Archive: Phantom

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Mark Trail, 6/9/17

Oh, man, I haven’t kept you up to date on Mark’s Kidnap Adventure, huh? Well, that’s because literally nothing has happened except for Johnny getting a little too far ahead of the group for Bald Kidnapper Guy’s comfort, but now we know that our heroes are going to triumph through the power of … trick riding! Pretty sexy, eh? Trick riding? That’s a sexy thing? [looks it up on Wikipedia] Oh, it’s just business about riding a horse in a fancy way, never mind.

Mary Worth, 6/9/17

Meanwhile, Katie and Derek are having a big blowout argument — the sexy kind, the kind that stirs the passions and reaches a climax when anger turns to lust and [squints and looks more closely at strip] nope, nope, never mind, this is the kind of argument that erects a wall of emotional distrust between two people and it’s hard to ever come back from it to a loving, intimate relationship, forget I said anything.

Phantom, 6/9/17

Fine, here’s an actual sexy soap opera strip. Yes, it’s doing a particularly weird version of the thing where if the readers at home glimpse the Phantom’s eyeballs, we’ll all die, but just … there are pecs, OK? Large, sexy, hairy pecs. And underboob shadow! Something for everyone!

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Mary Worth, 5/7/17

Derek strides determined onto the smoking deck, the new pack in his fist a taut miracle of cellophane, paper, foil, and promise — of hours of pleasant anticipation, indulgence, and satisfaction. Unguided, his hands repeat the practiced rituals that release the first cigarette of twenty — twenty, by God — fresh, firm, fragrant, perfect. The match glows in his cupped hands as the head burns off, and the flame kisses the tobacco into life.

Confusion of fire, ash, and ember as the tip catches, then blessed smoke, warming his lip as it passes over, bathing his mouth in electric mist. Teasing himself, he savors the pungent earthiness and the cascade of memories recalled from half a lifetime of such moments — in terror, bliss, bitter cold — before drawing it deeply in. Relishing the familiar catch in his throat, he closes his eyes to bathe in his first deliberate, fully conscious breath in what seems like months.

Full, rich, warm, radiant, held, and released softly as a sigh, his spent breath scrolls effortlessly back into the sea air. The shimmering silver column pauses for just a moment at the rail, then streams abaft to dissolve in the tropical sunlight.

The old, remembered music rises in his ears, an impossibly high-pitched sostenuto from a faraway violin, along with a placid warmth and golden lightness radiating throughout his body, and keen appreciation of every sensation etched into this moment: sun hot on his arms, breeze soft on his cheeks, whisper of scent from a woman now at his side.

“Oh, hi — Esmée, isn’t it? Nice day, huh?”

Curtis, 5/7/17

OK, this strip is a knockoff of the “Curtis is humiliated trying on clothes” series in which a dressing-room door flies open to reveal Curtis in his underwear before a sudden storeful of jeering spectators. But hey waitaminute – what is this crowd laughing at? Chutney’s an attractive girl, and has been drawn even more so over the years – surely “boyfriend” and “date” aren’t laughably out of the question.

So they must be laughing at Curtis — so selfish, shallow, and incapable of love or friendship that they snap pictures of the famous monster to show their friends. Curtis is headed toward a really dark place — no pepperoni for you, jerkwad!

Phantom, 5/7/17

Hey, I know I plug this strip like it’s my job or something even though folks like Josh aren’t feeling it. But c’mon, people: Jungle Patrol! Minions of ‘The Python’ Chatu! résumé-building “Leopard Print” Hawa and “Full Auto” Kay! Captain “Jimmy Olsen” Weeks in full “Golly, Colonel” mode! Colonel Worubu himself rocking his fourpack in that breechclout! That’s some quality entertainment right there.

But as long as the evildoers (evilsayers, really) are all lined up on their knees like that, I’d avoid saying things like “brilliant execution” — somebody in this crew could easily get the wrong idea.


Hey, that’s it for me — Josh will be back early tomorrow, continuing the great circle of whatever this is. Thank you for a lovely time!

–Uncle Lumpy

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Phantom, 4/29/17

Hmmm … can’t shake a “feeling of death,” Big Guy? Maybe it’s because you sleep cheek-by-jowl with your ancestors’ corpses, decorate yourself with skull jewelry, and live inside a gigantic death’s-head?

Nah. More likely it’s just a premonition that your city-bred wife, out stalking a pygmy tribal chief in the deep jungle, is about to get all slain by one of his adorable little arrows.

Crankshaft, 4/29/17

Wait, sad to outlive your dreams? But that way you’d still be around to enjoy them after they turn into facts! Sounds kinda nice — sign me up!

Not Lillian, though — she’s lived in the Funkyverse long enough to know this ain’t no Disney movie (the depression cats are a giveaway). So she games the system, adopting only those dreams that will fail slowly enough to outlast her. That way, she can die basking in the delusion that her remaining dreams still had a shot. Not like her dream to open a used bookstore above the garage — that sucker failed from the get-go and mocks her to this day.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/29/17

OK, Rex Morgan has been setting up this porno for so long the only question left is the dramatis personae: Niki and Kelly, sure, but who’s on third: rich-girl Holly — or Kelly’s Mom Summer (ew)?

And pace Josh, Niki’s actually far from a novice at this sort of thing: a decade ago, June blackmailed him into “cleaning her garage,” if you know what I mean. And that was before he got his wet hands all over Rex’s trout.

Anyway, it’s great to see this classic soaper returning to its roots. Its sexy, creepy roots.

Spider-Man, 4/29/17

Spider-Man plugs Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy franchise almost as hard as Mary Worth plugs Carnival Cruise Lines. Probably for more cash, but definitely with a lot less effort. Never change, Web-Slinger!


Hello, faithful reader! I’m sitting in while Josh enjoys a Spring Break chock-full of enjoyable activities on a colossal liner steaming around the Caribbean, or maybe just sneaks out back for a delicious cigarette. Either way, reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net if you have any problems with the site.

If you use the commenting feature, be aware that I’m notified automatically when a comment is placed in moderation, so there’s no need to alert me by email or in a follow-up comment. I’ll clear comments as soon as I see them, which won’t always be immediately. Thanks for your anticipated patience!

–Uncle Lumpy