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Wizard of Id, 9/2/14

Do you think the Wizard makes his own coffee? I don’t think the Wizard makes his own coffee.

So here’s how mornings go down in the Ofid household: when the rooster goes off Wiz casually throws a frogspell into Blanche there and hits snooze for a couple more Zs. Blanche hops wetly to the kitchen and struggles to get the coffee started. Nothing works: she slides around on the linoleum, her webbed fingers don’t grip the matches, eyes aren’t wired to see anything that isn’t moving, and she reflexively splots every fly – and these are the Middle Ages so FLIES, yo. Finally she gets the job done and sits down to have a cup and wash out the fly taste. She’s way past expecting thanks or even courtesy but could she at least have her goddamn window back you asshole?

Mark Trail, 9/2/14

Dirty, Dirty, Dirty, you just can’t catch a break with these stampedes, can you? It’s like recurring psoriasis, only with charismatic megafauna.

And c’mon, Mark – those elephants are already headed away from you in the first panel. Admit it, you’re doing this for fun.

Pluggers, 9/2/14

Pluggers can’t understand why looters don’t get free delivery.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/2/14

It’s not Les Moore it’s not Les Moore it’s not Les Moore it’s not Les Moore it’s not Les Moore ….

So hey. Yeah, Josh and Amber arrive in LA late tomorrow God willing but that doesn’t mean you get your precious Josh back QUITE so fast no siree. There are households to unload; laid-back California ISPs to bribe, cajole, and threaten; and sleep debts to pay off.

The fundraiser ends when they arrive in LA (Hurry! Thanks!), but I’ll stay on a bit. The plan is for me to post through Friday and Josh to return with COTW sometime that afternoon. But you know what happens to plans, right? — they gang aft agley, that’s what. I’ll keep you posted.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Apartment 3-G, 9/1/14 (panel)

They’re going to either burst into a Rocky Ledge duet or dash for the bedroom, and I don’t know which would be worse.

Slylock Fox, 9/1/14

I’m always fascinated by Weirdly’s gadgets, minor taxonomy-related errors aside. But I was transfixed by Slylock’s scuba outfit, encasing his luxuriant red tail in yards of pillowy blue neoprene. At first it looked like a clever canid-specific buoyancy compensator, maintaining both depth and balance — probably fart-powered to conserve breathing air and protect the delicate reef ecology. Then I saw Max’s predicament, and realized that Sly’s tailsheath is essential defense against the carnivorous goldfish, which consumes its victim tail-first, inch by inch, until after long months of agony the nose disappears into its toothy maw like the final cherry of an after-dinner flambé. Red in tooth and claw, folks — dive safe, and keep those tails covered!

Mary Worth, 9/1/14

Mary is driven insane about the way l’affaire Kaphut was resolved without her interference so no credit is coming her way and she had to go crawling to that smug punk son of her jellyfish boyfriend just to find out what the hell happened. Like she’s no better than some damn nurse! In her rage she lets her defenses slip and reverts to the hair, posture, expression, and sing-songy speech cadences of an Evil Queen in a Disney movie (probably Ursula from The Little Mermaid, but maybe Cruella from 101 Dalmations, your choice):

♫ “You seeeeeeeeem to have very ACurate gutinnnnnnnnstincts (cackle cackle cackle)!” ♫
♫ “You KNOW what was reeeeeecently reVEALED about himmmmmmm? hmmmmmmm? (cackle shriek cackle, whiff of sulfur, bright flash)”

Van Horn Texas — home to Jeff Bezos’ Blue Image spaceport and the 10,000-year clock buried in the surrounding hills. Come for the diesel-fried chicken and donkey-ropin’; leave for Tucson in the morning. Send burrito money, folks — he’s a long, long way from home and a burrito could be a good friend right now.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Crankshaft, 8/31/14 (panels)

I over-edit. Even on deadline, I’ll find a weak verb, unnecessary adverb, or clumsy subordinate clause and go back to the edit screen to tune it up, repeating the process many times until I start changing the same things back and forth or grow embarrassed at how many revisions WordPress says I’ve racked up. So even though I poke fun at some of the bizarre sounds-like-English dialogue in Crankshaft and Funky Winkerbean, I’m sympathetic, see? I know how staring at a handful of words too long makes you doubt readers will understand them, and after that it’s a quick trip down the hall of mirrors.

But c’mon. This is an old joke based on a familiar phrase. Nobody is going to misunderstand you if you leave out that second “wee.” And your audience is not Beavis.

Funky Winkerbean, 8/31/14 (panels)

And here’s Crankshaft‘s companion strip on the Centerville-Westview axis, all done up in its trademark Sunday Murk-O-Vision — because what Funky Winkerbean needs is more gloom.

The narrative challenge here is that the easy gag “hurry-up offense ends a bad game sooner” is undercut by the team’s recent improvement. Doesn’t bother Les, though – he’s like the guy who ruins a good meal out by complaining about the food he got on a previous visit, making damn sure the chef’s wife at the hostess station can hear him loud and clear.

Judge Parker, 8/31/14 (panels)

Neddy shamelessly sucks up to Rocky Ledge to get her deal approved as the randy entertainer takes a long, approving glance down the dress she chose for exactly that purpose. Sam beams: “My daughter, the closer — check please!”

“No, not you, Maurice.”

On the Road Again, as sung by country music legend Willie Nelson and acted out in real life by Josh and Amber. No stopping in Luckenbach, though – it’s time to press westward, ever westward!

— Uncle Lumpy