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The Comics Curmudgeon Spring 2010 Fundraiser

Today is the final day of the biannual fundraiser — so if you haven’t already, please join me and and your other fellow readers in supporting Josh Fruhlinger’s fine work here on the Comics Curmudgeon. Act now — thank you!

Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!

Apartment 3-G, 3/26/10

Hey, it’s Dr. Skully “Chemo” Bryant, by all appearances — and against all odds — still alive! In a fit of dementia last September, Bryant turned over his lucrative psychiatric practice to medical impersonator Aristotle Papagoras, who quickly transformed it into a walk-in narcotics dispensary and Love Shack, setting the Bobbie Merrill story in motion.

Today, Dr. Bryant makes good his commitment to locate Merrill’s medical records, showing Papagoras that words like “professional” and “oath” still mean something to somebody in his business any more. The records had been filed under Bobbie Merrill’s married name, which was …. Which waaaaaaas …?

Anton Chekhov is famously reported to have said, “If in Act I you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act”. Well, faithful readers, we have our pistol, and the clouds are gathering for the final act — but whose will it be?

Hägar the Horrible, 3/26/10

It’s funny because that’s what the word means! Seriously, aren’t we approaching some kind of limit on what qualifies as “wordplay”?

Mary Worth, 3/26/10

Mary, already in her priestly garb, calls from outside the compound on her burner cell, but her chosen sacrifice evades the trap. Honestly! Salmon squares it is, then.

In panel two, Toby dashes off a landscape while her portrait of Ian dries.

Slylock Fox, 3/3, 3/19, 3/26/10

“I see. Well, let’s go back up to 30 milligrams and see if they stop.”

— Uncle Lumpy

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The Comics Curmudgeon Spring 2010 Fundraiser

Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!

Gasoline Alley, 3/23/10

For better or for worse, many comics rely on wordplay for humor. Here’s a typical example, in which a simple misunderstanding will launch days and days of escalating overreactions and hilarious hijinks.

We almost lost Old Walt once before. A few years ago, Gasoline Alley ran a sweet story about his impending retirement to an Old Comics Home, where he could reminisce with the likes of Smokey Stover, the Yellow Kid, and other contemporaries (he was “born” in 1900; his son Skeezix is pushing 90). They ended that story abruptly, yanking Walt back here to be neglected by Gertie, mishear and misspeak stuff, and generally be the butt of old-guy jokes. I like to think the Old Comics Home was a kind of Heaven, and that Walt must’ve committed some unpardonable sexual sin during his wait to get in. You go, Walt!

Crankshaft, 3/23/10

Speaking of “butt of old guy” jokes, there’s nothing celestial about Ed Crankshaft’s, um, wordplay. Panel two’s “lukecold” is actually one of his better attempts, although neither Pam nor we can raise our eyes to it from the horror below. But there’s no excuse for “space heater” in panel one. Honestly, guys – “There must be something wrong with the water heater”/”My shower was lukecold!” How hard is that?

Luann, 3/23/10

Quill gives Luann ambiguously phrased, ridiculous singing advice, which Luann first misunderstands for Chinese, then takes to heart. Next week, we’ll all enjoy her solo performance of “Nnnnngh, nnngh, mmmmmmmmf!” sung with no eye contact whatsoever.

Apartment 3-G, 3/23/10

And in other news… OK, I think we can call it official — Armed lunatic junkie skank Bobbie Merrill is Martin Magee’s wife, Gabriella’s rival, Margo’s stepmom, Dr. Papagoras’s lover, and there’s gonna be hell to pay.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

Mary Worth, 3/23/10

Hey, remember yesterday when I suggested Mary’s mysterious “return” might be an overdue library book? Note to self: never, ever attempt to out-lame Mary Worth.

Hey, it’s the Spring 2010 Fundraiser — any cash you can spare to support Josh’s work here will be greatly appreciated — thank you!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Mary Worth, 3/22/10

Ladies and gentlemen, our long national frolic has ended, and just as we’d hoped — with a Charterstone pool party! Mary helpfully excuses Wilbur’s manic episode by reminding us his sensible lady friend Iris was out of town. But what can Mary mean by “returns”? Have her widows’ stocks declared dividends? Is Carlos Alora back on the job as groundskeeper? Dare we hope for Zombie Aldo? More likely, she just needs to get that copy of The Shorter Bartlett’s Quotations back to the library. Those fines add up.

9 Chickweed Lane, 3/22/10

One of the most annoying tendencies of serial strips is to sanctify characters until they lose all capacity for drama or comedy. Judge Parker‘s Sam Driver, Steve Roper, and Funky Winkerbean‘s bandleader Harry Dinkle has each in his turn been neutered, cast in plaster, and set up on a shelf for admiration in lieu of entertainment.

In its current story 9 Chickweed Lane — already in the running for most annoying strip in the history of ever — is going for a twofer. Mean-spirited bully Edna O’Malley (née Ernst) has already been recast as a dewy, chaste, ever-so-talented, misunderstood patriot. And here, in a single panel, her future husband is transformed from a lieutenant busted for a pointless and bungled espionage attempt into a noble set-upon war hero. Could we please have the cat back? I mean, if it’s not off in Africa curing malaria or something.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/21/10

Just when you think Herb and Jamaal has reached the top of its game, it breaks new ground. Generic dialogue? No dialogue at all! Bland characters? Unknown bland characters (Herb and Sarah’s flat-topped son Ezekiel, impy neighbor Willie, and Willie’s dad, um…)! Labored, arbitrary setups? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet! And icing on the cake, a heartwarming Mary Worth-style quotation from Malcolm X. ‘Cause if that man stood for anything, it’s that it’s OK to let yourself be victimized, as long as you can be smug about it.

Gil Thorp, 3/22/10

Underemployed dropout Steve Luhm here puts right his slightly icky will-they-or-won’t-they flirtation with Milford B-baller Cassie Corman. Cassie has a well-established taste for older boys — they don’t even have to be much older, and from the look of Ray Richey there, just about any boy will do. Well, Steve’s having none of it, and oh hey look Milford’s closing in on the point spread and Kinsella’s still on fire. Excuse me, I gotta call my bookie.

— Uncle Lumpy