Post Content

Prince Valiant, 11/18/12

OK, so when his cultured wife Lady Winnifred died, Lord Grunyard fell apart, leaving Lockbramble’s lush but chilly northern lands in the hands of greedy, archery-obsessed overseer Roger Runetyne, who impoverished them in a vain attempt to grow tea, which he figured Britons might like. Moral: marketing insight is no substitute for operational capability!

Ace archer rebel Rhoda Red Hood plans to enter and win Lockbramble’s archery tournament in disguise, humiliating Runetyne so the rebels can reinstall Grunyard as their puppet ruler. One of those Hunger Games-y “win the contest and save the land” plots.

And oh yeah Val and Gawain wander in, get caught and released by the rebels, and allay Runetyne’s fears that the royals are onto him by showing up at the castle plastered.

But mainly, after this week in Rex Morgan, M.D., I figured you’d just want to stare at that first panel for a little while.

Phantom, 11/18/12

While the daily Phantom putters along playing Who’s Got the Lion?, the Sundays loop back to the year-and-a-half-long Diana’s Rescue story, in which gun-totin’, pirate-hatin’, Phantom-lovin’ Captain Savarna played a prominent role.

Once the Phantom finds that skeleton in the final panel, he’ll search for proof it’s Savarna’s: the purple notebook she always carried, filled with her 785 practice signatures — Mrs. Savarna Phantom Walker* in loopy schoolgirl script, with little hearts above all the i's and j's.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/18/12

Hey, let’s look in on the happy couple!

With his daughter off at college, Les married Cayla as a replacement foil for his execrable pun-like utterances. But Cayla is a take-charge ex-baseballer who doesn’t mind taking down a rival, or a mere annoyance like her new husband. And she is so done with his Lisa shit. Three strikes and you’re out, buddy.

That’s it for me: Josh will be back later today with Comments of the Week, and regular posts starting Monday. Thanks for a fun week!

–Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

Prince Valiant, 3/13/11

In the dark ages before mobile phones, a sorceress with a beef could hex a passing oaf, daub ZOMG U R A HOAR!!11! on his tunic, and send him lumbering off to her rival’s lair. A good catfight would choke the streets of Camelot with oaves trudging to and fro through the dung and offal wearing STFU, 4Q 2U2, and 182, or lounging in the market as ZZZ or BRB.

Maldubh, sorceress wife of Val’s rival Draco, recently oafed Val and Aleta: V@L+A1337A — FOAD Y NOT? KTHXBAI, and here we see the reply: OMFG MAGIC FAIL NEENR NEENR.

Dick Tracy (panels), 3/13/11

Dick Tracy and Dick Locher say goodbye. Aww, nice. “High-speed”, heh!

The Lockhorns (panel), 3/13/11

Loretta Lockhorn brags about her plan to sex her husband to death. Sorry, Loretta — Anna Nicole Smith you are not.

— Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

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