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Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/14/14

Sarah writes:

“And then there was a bully and he said my picture was BAD but I told him NO and all the kids were like ‘YAY CAN WE BE SARAH’S FRIEND’ and the Teacher said ‘SARAH is the Boss now!’ But the old lady came and smelled like pee but she was the boss of EVERYBODY and told them whatever SARAH wants and gave me the money for the museum so Kelly can’t kiss Nikki ANY MORE and has to give me rides WHEREVER I WANT. And then the Daddy says, ‘Tell it again, Mommy! Tell the story again about SARAH!'”

Judge Parker 7/14/14

Neddy explains:

“Ready-to-wear for princesses ‘cuz they’re princess dresses and they’re named after princesses and you feel like a princess when you wear one! This one’s the Rapunzel, and this is Snow White, and Pocahontas with the beads, and Belle. The one that comes with a scarf is called Jasmine and the swimwear is Ariel! Sam, will you help me with the licensing?”

Gasoline Alley 7/14/14

Did you ever get up in the morning and really, really want to draw a steam locomotive? No? Well then, my friend, I’m pretty sure your name isn’t Jim Scancarelli.

Gil Thorp 7/14/14

“Now we have to find a football program that’ll do right by True. That’s why we’ve come here to Milford to talk to you, Coach Thorp. Wait, that didn’t sound right somehow. Let’s start over again at the top, OK?”

— Uncle Lumpy

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Mary Worth 7/13/14

Little Olive Taylor is a sensitive spirit-child who fears water, sees fairies, takes instruction from angels, and indulges in a little routine precognition. So it’s fair to say she inhabits that uncanny halfspace between the spirit world and our own, is it not? That was a rhetorical question; of course she does.

So she knows she’s in a world of hurt. Consider:

• The little cyst on her torso may prove to be, as a surgeon once delicately explained to me, “the type of cyst that tends to reoccur.” Thus the doctor’s routine torsopsy may indicate the need for a torsotomy — or even a full-scale torsectomy, leaving poor Olive a stunted freak with legs emerging from her neck, and an arm from each ear. And what then, if the contagion spreads to her lap, or heaven forbid her nape?
• Don’t her parents seem just a liiiiitle too invested in a medical resolution to what seems like a family-dynamics problem? (“But Olive, you told us you always wanted a little cyster!”) No doubt they are in a rush to foist her back off on Mary so they can resume their casual neglect and nonstop rutting.
• Finally, with her gift of second sight, Olive can instantly recognize the chillingly named “Dr. Kapuht” as none other than the risen demon-stalker Kelrast, come to exact terrible revenge on any whom his Mary does not spurn.

Am I wrong? I don’t think I’m wrong:

Aldo always said that when one door closes, you just knock incessantly on another one until some fool tells you to come in. Run, Olive!

Slylock Fox (panel), 7/13/14

Ms. Mayfair, before going all-in with your fascist animal oppressors, consider that the entirety of your mating options consists of a) Count Weirdly, and b) this guy. Think it through, girl.

Prince Valiant, 7/13/14

Oh my gosh look you guys it’s Prince Valiant! Val and Aleta with family and friends set sail on the Island Queen for the Misty Isles, but in a great storm and with the crew distracted by a mystic bewitching siren song the ship is caught between massive rocks and a great whirlpool and ripped apart! Val is captured by a band of Sirens and forced to battle a Cyclops, whom he defeats by luring to the edge of a cliff.

But the Cyclops is revealed to be a mere man, “enchanted” beasts mere house pets, and goddess-queen Calypso a nutjob with anger issues. In short, the story starts like The Odyssey but ends like pretty much every episode of Scooby Doo ever.

Ruh-roh!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Oh my goodness that was so exciting! And now begins the eleventh blogyear — the second blog decade — of the Curmudgeonarchy. Look on these works, ye mighty, and despair ….

Apartment 3-G, 7/12/14

Despair especially upon reading today’s Apartment 3-G! After weeks of tedious passive-aggressive banter, Carol and Tommie finally bond over a prank that would embarrass a preschooler. Giggle-snort-guffaw, indeed, and I’ll raise you “chortle.”

It’s a mercy Tommie can’t hear the quotation marks when Luann and Margo tell people she’s the funny one.

But we can …

Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/12/14

Speaking of despair, see how crestfallen poor Rexy looks as his daughter rockets past him into society’s uppermost stratum of privilege and influence. I’m betting those free cab rides and Shamu passes seem pretty shabby about now don’t they Rex, you pathetic bourgeois striver.

Mark Trail, 7/12/14

The key to compelling fiction is carefully detailed secondary characters. See, for example, how the lion’s rage and loathing are directed inward at his own cowardice, not at his feisty erstwhile prey. Let’s listen in! “Sure, Leo — run from the fucking giraffe, loser. Like he’ll neck you to death or some shit. ‘King of the Jungle’ my ass. Goddamn, warthog again tonight — Zuri’s gonna kill me.” And even at this great distance the reader can sense the vulture’s disappointment at the loss of its meal, disgust at the craven lion, and maybe a flicker of hope that Chris’s plan will save it from starvation? Of course, that assumes that the corpse of Mark Trail, all leather and sinew, could possibly be digested, even by a vulture, and even after a couple days rotting in the African sun. But hey, a bird’s gotta dream — fly high, vulture guy!

Luann, 7/12/14

When Luann wants to disappear somebody, they put him on a plane. Longtime Luann crush Aaron Hill was exiled to Hawaii, but that has disadvantages of being still nominally in the US, so the disappeared one could theoretically keep in touch by phone. The technique was perfected for Miguel and one-shot “Sanchez” by sending them to Spanish-speaking countries. It’s perfect because not only are they outside the US so who cares, but if they did somehow manage to build a working telephone out of the native soot, feathers, and animal bones, we wouldn’t hear anything on our end but incomprehensible gibbering.

I’m super-interested in Gunther’s experience actually on his flight to nonexistence (OK, Peru, but c’mon). Will he just wink out once he crosses the border, or is it a gradual process of dematerialization culminating in technical nonexistence somewhere over, say, Quito? Can he feel the interstitial tissues of his internal organs relaxing their grip right now? What kind of Last Meals do they serve on a flight to Nowhere? He and Rosa are in Business Class (thanks, Mom — bye!), so will they get a couple dishes of those awesome hot nuts with their Diet Pepsis? Does Gunther save the cashews for last, and avoid the almonds entirely? Maybe, ever the gentleman, he gives Rosa his cashews and takes her almonds? It’s the least/last thing a fella can do.

Josh has withdrawn to his garret to finish his novel (tick-tappita tick-tapp tappita), so I’ll be here through Sunday the 27th. No fundraiser this time: thus your generous contribution will be an especially welcome surprise when we send it up in the basket with his sandwiches. If you have any technical issues with the site, reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net. Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy