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Curtis, 9/26/10

Curtis shackles its artist’s powerful, primitive vision and impeccable draftsmanship to the well-thumbed sheaf of stock narratives the world expects from a genre strip. Hey, it’s a living. But art will out! The strip slips its narrative fetters once a year for Kwanzaa, and once in a while for its title character’s superhero fantasies.

There’s so much to love here: the spandex mask rising to wrap SuperCaptainCoolMan’s improbable coiffure, the villain’s breakfast, mustache, and pince-nez, the allusion to confusing and unspeakable prison sex, “…you evil but stupid genius”, and that implacable wall o’ mammoth. But best of all, the electric elephant stinkeye at the climax, and “ZORGG.” A worthy successor to QLUNQ! HA HA HA WHINNY!

Then back to earth for a tired “principal’s office” joke — and maybe Derrick and “Onion” waiting in the hall? The nicest trips end far too soon.

Mark Trail, 9/26/10

Mark’s part-time gig with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has slowly but completely corrupted his principles as an Outdoor Journalist. No longer does he implore readers to “Enjoy Nature” — no, now it’s all, “Stay away from the terrifying outdoors, where you will die from the flash floods and the lightning and the tornadoes and the tsunamis and the flying squid.” And shilling weather radios so people can stay inside and entertain themselves by scaring the dog.

“EEEEEEE!”

Brenda Starr, 9/26/10

No sound effects here but the pitapat of my fanboy heart. Brenda Starr is looking into the Pokeville hometown background of Tap Fitzpatrick, the flamboyant DA falsely (she thinks) accused of the murder of TV host Felicity Fox (no, not her). Pokeville has its secrets, at least one of whom is driving that Hummer that nearly ran over Brenda’s Mustang. But most of the town’s action is at Joe’s One Stop, Pokeville’s Jack Ass Acres, where you can get anything you want from the resident gap-toothed androgyne and owner of Bullseye the Dog — except information.

O Brenda Starr, how do I love thee?

1. Crisp, hard-edged modern drawing by artist June Brigman — retaining the trademark eye-sparkles of Dale Messick’s loopy-girly style.
2. People smoke, yet the strip is not about their smoking (see, Curtis?).
3. Intelligent background jokes — “Live Bait! Tanning!”
4. Timely material — Hummers, Mustangs, bloggers, prescription drug abuse, the decline of print journalism.
5. Author Mary Schmich, renaissance woman and (dare I hope?) future hyphenated spouse of former Baltimore Mayor Kurt Schmoke.
6. Brenda Starr kicks ass!

Pluggers, 9/26/10

The essence of Pluggers. Except for the color, which seems way too upscale, and anyway should have leached out decades ago.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Luann, 9/21/10

Brad, I will say words to you now, so squint up your eyes and make the “I hear you” face. If you tell the girl “Now that Dirk is back you and I should wed”, you should not tell her “Dirk must not be the boss of us”, too. You are the one who wants to make him the boss of you, so you two can wed! It is wrong to say both things! It is like you and you in some kind of big talk fight! Stop it — got that?

The pants of this girl rule your mind!

And don’t just say all kinds of stuff when you get mad! Think hard, and try to make it sound like you want to make sense when you talk! Girls like it a lot when you try hard to be smart for them! I know it hurts, but you have to do it — keep your mind on the pants!

What, once more? You say not so fast this time? Here you go: pants!

And oh, yes: nice truck. Why do you two have to stand in front of it all the time like that? And talk so much? By “so much”, I mean “at all.” And by “in front”, I mean “where we can see you.”

Apartment 3-G, 9/21/10

Whoa! After years stuck in the early ’60’s, A3G stomps on the accelerator — no sooner does Tommie get a makeover than a woman of color shows up! I’m pretty sure that’s a first, and if they keep up this pace, I hope the gals watch out for flying cars ’round about next week or so. Ted Forth’s gonna be so pissed.

Pluggers, 9/21/10

You bet, ’cause you know if it were, this guy would be right there with his épées, vaulting pole, and rowing shell.

Thanks to everybody who contributed yesterday — don’t forget that if you want to send Josh a check or something, I’ll be happy to send you his address. Just email me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net — I mean what the hell, it’s not like it’s my address or anything!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/7/10

In all my years of reading the strip, I have encountered few scenes in Snuffy Smith more harrowing than panel two here. Lureen looks rightly terrified at the slavering mob of women who have assembled at the Gossip Fence, the traditional gathering place for female-oriented rituals in Hootin’ Holler. Little does she know that any woman who manages to successfully bed the hamlet’s most eligible bachelor is by iron custom torn to bits and devoured by all the other women in the town. This is how the community maintains its uniform hideousness: by weeding all the even vaguely attractive people out of the gene pool.

Archie, 9/7/10

Mr. Weatherbee, with his black shirt and white jacket, always seems to be waiting for an ’80s fashion revival that never arrives; today, he’s really attempting to force the issue by donning a piano tie. GIVE IT UP, MR. WEATHERBEE. IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.

Spider-Man, 9/7/10

I love the fact that Spider-Man, true to his intense laziness, just automatically associates computers with video games and nothing else. “Wait, you can use the keyboard-television for things that aren’t Farmville?”

Pluggers, 9/7/10

Seriously, pluggers are shockingly lazy and just straight up don’t give a rat’s ass about what you think.