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Apartment 3-G, 2/18/13

Margo wakes up from her asphyxiation coma and just naturally assumes Tommie has dragged her home from yet another blackout bender.

Gasoline Alley, 2/18/13

Rufus needs to arrange a sham marriage in a hurry to secure his inheritance under the terms of a really terribly drafted will, but he can’t find a human volunteer because rich or poor, he’s still Rufus. Still, none of that excuses Joel pimping out his mule. And Becky’s enthusiasm for the arrangement is starting to creep me out.

Momma, 2/18/13

As Gertrude Stein once said of Oakland, “There is no there there.” At least not nearly enough for a vaccination scar.

Gil Thorp, 2/18/13

Oh imagine that, the peacock wasn’t really the magical score-enhancing reincarnation of his tragically dead brother after all, just the wayward pet of some amiable neighbor-doofus. But Scott will say anything to deny the plain truth: “Um, … do you mean today? The sun was in my eyes! Bitch set me up! What was that noise? She said she was 18! My dog ate it! Greedo shot first! I took a wide stance! It’s not you, it’s me! I thought they were tomato plants! I never got your message! She’s just a friend! I was drunk! The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat! How could I have known it was loaded? I swear nothing like this ever happened to me before! The heart wants what it wants! I didn’t see the sign! I was dead at the time — on the Moon, with Steve! Everybody does it! Wait, I was just holding it for somebody! Ida Know! NOT ME!”

— Uncle Lumpy

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Women, amirite?

Phantom, 2/17/13

OK, so the Phantom adheres to the quaint old ‘50’s-TV-cowboy “shoot the guns from the bad guys’ hands” ethic, while Savarna just stone cold kills the bastards, no fuss. But the Ghost Who Negotiates ought to know that while employers may set terms and conditions (like uniforms, mmm…) for their workers, they can’t go around telling independent contractors like Savarna how to deliver their services. What I’m saying is if he hasn’t got a W-2 job on offer here, he’d better let Savarna continue her reign of bloody 1099-MISC slaughter, or there’ll be hell to pay with the IRS.

Lockhorns panel, 2/17/13

At last we know what keeps the Lockhorns together: as devout Catholics, death is the only permissible exit from their loveless hell of a marriage. But really, Father — a penance enhancement for Leroy? Isn’t Loretta enough? You’ve just heard the endless catalog of her horrifying sins against this poor man; have you no mercy? Don’t pretend you can’t hear me, Padre, I know you’re still in there!

Sally Forth, 2/17/13

Ted tries desperately to charm Sally out of her Seasonal Affective Disorder. I know you’re probably wondering, “Why should Ted and Sally have all the fun? Why can’t I enjoy the full-on Charles in Charge theme song karaoke binge experience?” Well, faithful reader, wonder no more:

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/17/13

Apparently cancer stripper Dolores’ gender-sniffin’ powers work only on the preborn, otherwise how could she have missed out on Honey’s Big Secret? Or maybe Honey is always extra-careful to put the seat back down? Seriously, is there any other way to read this? “Rex, I want you to know I’m not like the other girls. Not like other girls at all, CHECK IT OUT DOC!”

Poor Rex instantly shrivels back to his tiny prepubescent boyhood, to relive his psychosexual development in light of this revelation, and maybe get it right this time.

Crankshaft, 2/17/13

This has nothing to do with women, or of course humor — I just thought you’d enjoy seeing Ed Crankshaft in pain. Was I wrong? I don’t think so!

Hey, Josh is once again abandoning you for his annual winter sojurn at scenic Undisclosed Location. No fundraiser this time around, but I’ll be here through next Sunday. If you have any site issues, drop me a line at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net and I’ll do what I can to help.

“ ♫ I want Charles in charge of meeeee … ♫”

— Uncle Lumpy

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Beetle Bailey, 2/16/13

Ha ha, it’s funny because if Beetle hadn’t mouthed off, Sarge wouldn’t have broken his arm! Ha. Uh. This is awful.

Apartment 3-G, 2/16/13

Now this is hilarious because it’s just emotional abuse, you see. “I can’t imagine the world without Margo! Who would tell me what to do and where to go? Who would tell me when my haircut is stupid or I’m chewing too loudly? A MARGO-LESS LIFE WOULD BE MEANINGLESS!”

Programming note! I’m heading off on a vacation and Uncle Lumpy will be entertaining you in my absence! Be nice to him as he brings his usual avuncular hilarity to your computer screens. I’ll be back on Monday the 25th!