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Mary Worth, 1/23/22

Oh my GOD, the island ISN’T EVEN DESERTED, Wilbur is going to be FINE, just FINE. I don’t want to overstate things, but this is absolutely, positively, the greatest injustice in all of recorded human history. He’s not even going to take the opportunity to finally, actually stop drinking this time because all the obnoxious Australians/Floridians (depending on what ocean we’re in) are absolutely going to be buying him round after round of free booze once he stumbles in there and tells his story.

Pardon My Planet, 1/23/22

Ha ha, it’s funny because this guy is so economically desperate that he’s begging some spirit being to rip all his teeth out of head just for a few more dollars! Sure, he needs to buy food, but what are you going to chew it with, buddy? What are you gonna chew it with

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Hi and Lois, 9/17/21

Do teen boys still, in the year 2021, lie around their bedrooms, decorated with Stones and Led Zep posters, and talk about how bands today suck? I mean, they did when I was a teen in the ’90s, which was also decades after those bands had been relevant, so I don’t see why they wouldn’t now, but I admit that I don’t have any personal insight into the subject. I certainly hope little brothers of teen boys still lurk in the hallway outside their rooms, ready to strut in sassily with a perfect cutting sitcom-quality bon mot, because otherwise I will despair over the direction of today’s youth.

Family Circus, 9/17/21

Sure, you would think Big Daddy Keane would take this opportunity to unceremoniously plop his son on the other side of the fence and then power-walk away from his family forever, but I don’t think the desire to do that iss the emotion being conveyed by his facial expression here. It’s more a look of pure panic, as if he’d do anything to stop whatever sort of blubbering, weeping noise Jeffy is making, which should give all of us pause about whatever sort of blubbering, weeping noise Jeffy is capable of making.

Pardon My Planet, 9/17/21

I don’t really talk about Pardon My Planet very much, but on a day where one of its interchangeable characters spins an erotic description of a very fuckable armadillo, could I really ignore it? I mean, I probably could, most days, but the comics fodder is a little thin today. I just wrung a paragraph out of Jeffy crying, for pete’s sake. Anyway, like I said, this guy wants to fuck an armadillo, but what’s really sad is that he’s ashamed of it so he tries to project conventional feminine attributes onto the poor fantasy beast as if that places his desires within the bounds of traditional heteronormativity, when in fact it just makes it all much, much worse.

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Mark Trail, 9/6/21

I’ve been enjoying Mark’s fish-out-of-water misadventures in wildlife-themed social media, and especially Cherry’s return to Elrod-era badassery. But it’s deeply satisfying to see Mark head back into his element, confident hand on the wheel and fully prepared for whatever’s ahead. And the fact that he’s leaving Rusty out of yet another fishing trip, well, that’s just the icing on the cake.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 9/6/21

It’s funny because John and George are dead!

Pardon My Planet, 9/6/21

I dunno, Jesse, somebody put a lot of care into inking those jeans.

Take It from the Tinkersons, 9/6/21

Oh no! Clueless boss Ed interrupted Joe just as he was about to spill the beans to Ted about the real culprit in Helen’s husbands’ deaths. Now it’s six months of “My son is lazy and my dog is fat” until the facts emerge. Why is there never a Time Drone around when you need one?

Pluggers, 9/6/21

Happy Labor Day, faithful U.S. and Canadian readers! Hot dogs are sandwiches—enjoy every one!

Welp, that’s it for me! Thanks, everybody; I had a good time. Tune in again tomorrow for Josh’s triumphant return!

— Uncle Lumpy