Archive: Pluggers

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Heathcliff, 10/25/13

It’s pizza night, everyone! And that’s why Heathcliff is on the roof playing the bagpipes. Sure, there’s literally no correlation between bagpiping and pizza, but Heathcliff doesn’t care about your square cultural consensus about the correspondence between the signifier and the signified any more than he cares about local noise ordinances. Heathcliff’s going to stand on top of your God-damned roof playing the God-damned bagpipes and then eat some God-damned pizza, because he’s God-damned Heathcliff. It doesn’t have to make sense. You know it, he knows it, so why you don’t you just stand there and listen to “Amazing Grace” or “Scotland the Brave” or whatever until he decides he’s done, hmm?

(By the way, this is another Heathcliff that works very well with the caption replaced by “I’m thinking of unfriending him on Facebook.”)

Pluggers, 10/25/13

After going to great lengths to try to convince us that pluggers are wholly incapable of sexual arousal, the strip has finally admitted that, yes, pluggers can experience faint stirrings of lust, but only if they work so hard at it that they actually experience physical pain.

Lockhorns, 10/25/13

LOOK A CONTEMPORARY CULTURAL REFERENCE THE LOCKHORNS IS DEFINITELY NOT A COLLECTION OF THOUSANDS OF CARTOONS ALL DRAWN IN A SWEATSHOP IN 1965 AND DOLED OUT TO NEWSPAPERS ONE AT A TIME OVER THE DECADES PLEASE CONTINUE READING THANK YOU

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Lockhorns, 10/23/12

Never let it be said that long-running legacy strips don’t occasionally enjoy innovating! For instance, today’s Lockhorns brings us a new perspective on Leroy and Loretta — specifically, a perspective about nine inches above their bedroom floor, for some reason. Normally I think of the Lockhorns as being fairly short and squat, but today we experience what it would be like to be a tiny, tiny creature over whom they loom menacingly!

Family Circus, 10/23/13

I can’t even tell you how happy I am that Jeffy has a sweatshirt (t-shirt? it’s hard to tell, given his freakishly stumpy arms) that just says “JEFFY” across the front in big letters. Do you think it’s so that in case he forgets who he is, he can look down and be reminded, both by his name written there and by all the chicken grease stains?

Dennis the Menace, 10/23/12

“Drowning, that’s how I’d kill a man,” Mr. Wilson had said. “No fuss, no muss, not a lot of messy blood,” Mr. Wilson had said.

Pluggers, 10/23/12

Danger, Pluggers, danger! The only reason anyone from fancy-pants New York City would write into you would be to make fun of your readers and their horrible fashion sense! Do not use their suggestions in your comic! Also, you have terrible crippling osteoporosis.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/19/13

Look at your plate Rex just look at the plate she can’t know no one must ever know.

Pluggers, 10/19/13

Psst: Kitchen — eat.

Six Chix, 10/19/13

In a stunning development, Aaron Hill returns to Luann.

Judge Parker, 10/19/13

Narcissist boor Alan Parker interrogates his tablemates before introducing himself or his family, and burns with the knowledge that not only is Audrey the nemesis-critic who panned his terrible novel but this is not lemon in his martini God DAMN the world and everything in it!

Katherine slurps her cough syrup, transfixed: April was right — murder up close looks nothing like in the movies!

Ha ha ok what the hell:

Blondie, 10/19/13

Facebook and Zynga turn to Blondie for promotion, in what Wall Streeters call a “sell signal.”


News item: Longtime faithful reader Ned Ryerson, proprietor of the excellent and hilarious Gil Thorp blog This Week in Milford, announced Thursday that he’s throwing in the towel, hanging up his spurs, and other metaphors for not going to do it any more. Despite its highly selective focus, TWIM had lots of innovative features, and if you haven’t ever checked out the “Milford Pantheon of Hair” or “What the Hell is Going On Here?”, you should give it a look.

TWIM remains my go-to reference for Gil Thorp character names, team positions, and incidental nonsense, and I remember the day I beat Ned to a stupid golf joke in the wee hours of the morning as one of the high points of my life. Thanks for the laughs, Ned, and hope we’ll continue to see you ’round these parts!

— Uncle Lumpy