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Mark Trail, 7/20/15

Mark works out his resentment of his editor’s new office by abusing his expense account.

Apartment 3-G, 7/20/15

“I mean I’m going to garrotte her in an alley, dissolve her flesh in lye, crush her bones to powder, and dump the slurry in a river. Honestly, mother, sometimes it’s like you don’t know me at all!”

Slylock Fox, 7/20/15 (solution inverted)

Psst, Shady … tell Slylock you cooled them in the stream. Then offer him one, and invite him to sit down and cool his feet. You know how things work around there.

9 Chickweed Lane, 7/20/15

9 Chickweed Lane parodies the eponymous rabbit from Harvey, on the theory that the strip needs a character even more irritating than the regular cast.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Crock, (panels) 7/19/15

Say there, Crock Narration Box, I believe this is your very first appearance — congratulations, and welcome to the comics page! I hope you won’t mind a little constructive criticism from a long-time fan of Narration-Box classics like Phantom (“In the Bandar tongue!”), Apartment 3-G (“On the street, at the Tribeca Grill or maybe in their apartment …”) and — the Shakespeare of Narration Boxes — Amazing Spider-Man (Irony, anyone?“):

• First, credit where credit is due! The Lost Patrol’s gimmick is that they’re, well, lost, so good job maintaining the “fruitless search” narrative.
• You’re new here, but it’s “Narration Box,” OK? The panel frame doesn’t count — put a border around yourself, for decency’s sake.
• Finally show a little sympathy for your characters — when the joke is about them tripping over camel dung, “hot” and “steaming” are just twisting the knife.

Edge City, 7/19/15

Like Hi Flagston, Greg Wilkins, Frank DeGroot, and other stuck-in-time comics Dads, Len Ardin poses as a Gen-Xer, but his choice of music outs him as a Boomer. His music and, of course, his grotesquely swollen prostate.

Crankshaft, 7/19/15

Descending into madness, billionaire Howard Hughes grew obsessed with the spy drama Ice Station Zebra, watching it over and over. Here, Rose obsessively watches two Irish guys slug it out in a coal mine, scouring every scene for hidden clues that will help her make sense of her petty, vicious, empty life. She’s thaaaaat close to insight, she just knows it — but the answers just slip away every time. Of course it upsets her stomach — have a little compassion for the crazy old bat, you jerk. And take that damn hat off in the house.

Hi, everybody! I’m filling in until the 28th while Josh visits family and friends back East. Reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net if the site gives you any trouble. Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Apartment 3-G, 7/18/15

The “Stonewall” Margo is talking about here is not the legendary Greenwich Village bar where the modern gay rights movement began, but rather some sort of English country house that fake psychic Diane was pushing as a setting for Margo’s parents’ wedding in a plot point from five months ago that you probably already forgot. Like everything else that’s happening in the current “baffling dreamscape” iteration of Apartment 3-G, this plot twist makes sense so long as you don’t think about any of the details in any way. Like, the UK isn’t exactly one of the cheaper real estate markets in the world, so I’m pretty sure a manor fancy enough to be on “that British show about some Abbey” would go for a lot more for $50,000, or even £50,000. Also, would just the prospect of Martin and Gabriella renting this place for their wedding suddenly cause it to quintuple in value? I mean, I know Martin is supposed to be super-rich, but, uhhhhhh.

Crankshaft, 7/18/15

Sure, Crankshaft’s whole thing is that he’s a loathsome asshole and that’s why this strip is unbearable, but I admit I kind of like it when he’s a loathsome asshole during his son-in-law’s attempts to bond with him. “That’s for the theater. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I let my daughter marry a guy who makes theater comments at sporting events. You’re repugnant and you sicken me.”

Heathcliff, 7/18/15

Ha ha, Heathcliff made an extremely transparent medical marijuana joke! You know, this could explain a lot about this comic’s specific brand of low-grade, vaguely surreal whimsy.

Hey y’all, I’m off on an east coast trip to see friends and family! Your Uncle Lumpy will be here for some non-fundraising fill-in action for a week and change. See you on Wednesday the 29th!