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Prince Valiant, 3/28/10

A couple minor setbacks in the inky gloom is all it takes for Val to ditch Aleta and high-tail it back to the surface: “Hey, Arn, I tried, all right?” No matter, though — these guys who seemed so scary back in October come off up close like cranky grey Smurfs or tiny Burghers of Calais or something.

And while it’s sad to see Aleta’s slow-mo trail-marking striptease come to an end, under the circumstances a “loss of prudence” may be exactly what she needed.

Slylock Fox, (panel) 3/28/10

Sly, enraged that inamorata Cassandra Cat prefers his well-endowed rival Buford Bull, lashes out with yet another flimsy, jewelry-related pretext for jealous revenge. I ask: who’s the real heel here?

Only Max notices actual thief Reeky Rat, whose hiding place is becoming his tomb. “Squeak!” “Squeeeeeeeeak!”

Comics for Kids?—I think not!

The Lockhorns (panel), 3/28/10

Loretta corresponds online with Darkness Itself, who logs off in haste and horror.

Mary Worth (panel), 3/28/10

In an otherwise undistinguished recap of the week’s non-events, Mary vents her disgust and resentment at Bonnie and Fine Ernie Johnson, with their to-themselves-keeping, intrusion-resenting, arrogant lowness of key. Just who the hell do these people think they are?

Hey, yeah, still me. Heh, heh: y’know, Josh, amirite? Monday for sure, I’m told.

— Uncle Lumpy

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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