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Momma, 3/26/11

I was all set to just write this off as more of this strip’s typical Oedipal horror, but then I actually got a good look of the chinless, mouthless nightmare on the front of Tina’s head in panel two. I don’t care how much you love your wife, there’s now way you’re going to describe that as anybody’s “gorgeous face.”

Crock, 3/26/11

Oh boy! Is Crock going to feature more jokes involving Quench the camel either threatening to slobber on people or actually slobbering on people? I am very firmly in favor of this, as it’s the first even vaguely delightful development to come occur in Crock in the entire time I’ve been inflicting it on myself. Yay for more camel saliva! God, how low are my standards that I just said that?

Marvin, 3/26/11

Having dedicated its main focus to its title character’s noxious feces for some time now, Marvin has taken the logical next step, and has begun using the aforementioned feces as the solution to most of the problems that arise within the strip’s narrative.

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Family Circus, 3/14/11

Ill-content with his future as a sullen dick, Billy aspires to be a sullen ignorant dick. Live the dream, Billy!

Baby Blues, 3/14/11

Uh-oh — looks like Hammie’s been bitten by a radioactive spider. Lot of that going around. Can’t wait for the musical!

Marvin, 3/14/11

Marvin, perfected. You folks can stop now.

Judge Parker, 3/14/11

Marketing executive — of course. Alan’s Blackberry® also brings news that his two-week Wonder Novel has received a Pulitzer Prize, and Sam’s been appointed Attorney General and Papal Nuncio. Judge Parker pumps its characters so full of gas it’s like watching Ally McBeal staged by Macy’s parade balloons.

Dick Tracy, 3/14/11

Whoa — what the hell is that thing growing out of Dick’s left wrist? And are we headed for four months of “It’s morning out there”/”I’m gonna call you, Tracy”? Time will tell.

Hey, I’m outta here! Josh will return on Monday with your COTW, and chew back into the comics on Tuesday. It’s been a fun week — thanks!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Crock, 1/25/11

Today we have an excellent demonstration of the inner workings of the underimagined hell-world that is Crock. Our action involves Figowitz, who is always slouched despondently against the exterior wall of the Foreign Legion’s fort, and Captain Preppie, who for dramatic reasons should be shown sitting jauntily with his legs crossed. Except: there is no furniture upon which the good captain can place his shapely buttocks in Figowitz’s blasted desert sitting-spot! What to do? Summon a vaguely cuboid sitting-box out of nowhere, of course. Once Preppie gets up to stroll away, this mysterious plinth can simply vanish into the ether of narrative convenience out of which it emerged.

On a surely totally unrelated note, the chunk missing from Preppie’s right elbow in panel one is no doubt of aesthetic significance too sublime to be understood by a ruffian such as myself; we certainly shouldn’t assume that this particular drawing of the handsome captain has been carelessly cut and pasted from an earlier strip.

Apartment 3-G, 1/25/11

Normally when your new boyfriend drives you to a creepy abandoned house somewhere in New Jersey, that’s a sign of very bad news to come. But Paul drives a huge, pearly white Hummer! He must be a classy guy!

Marvin, 1/25/11

The WikiLeaks saga, combining as it does political intrigue, cloak-and-dagger spy drama, philosophical debates about the merits of openness vs. secrecy in different realms, and accusations of sexual assault, has enough inherent drama to serve as a the foundation for a whole series of fascinating novels. Or, if you’re Marvin, you could use it as the basis for a pun about pissing yourself!