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Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!

When Josh Fruhlinger started this blog in 2004, it looked something like this, featured a single comic in each post, drew the attention of a few friends and family, and sometimes went dark for weeks at a time. Today’s Comics Curmudgeon offers better graphics, coverage, and performance, so that readers can stop by every day for a quick chuckle, keep up with characters they’ve followed since childhood, and occasionally discover something new.

Blogging doesn’t cost much, but takes a huge investment of time — and for a freelance writer and editor like Josh, that’s money out of pocket. Twice a year, I try to put some of it back in by encouraging readers like you to join me in financial support of the Comics Curmudgeon. Our contributions help give Josh an economic justification to keep blogging, and a well-appreciated vote of confidence in his fine work.

Click the banner above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, or the links underneath to send a check or get more information. You can find full details (and an index to the fundraiser banners) here. Thank you!

— Uncle Lumpy

No “Comments of the week” while Josh is on vacation. Also, no advertising sponsors to thank: all the more reason for a generous contribution!

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Mary Worth, 3/22/10

Ladies and gentlemen, our long national frolic has ended, and just as we’d hoped — with a Charterstone pool party! Mary helpfully excuses Wilbur’s manic episode by reminding us his sensible lady friend Iris was out of town. But what can Mary mean by “returns”? Have her widows’ stocks declared dividends? Is Carlos Alora back on the job as groundskeeper? Dare we hope for Zombie Aldo? More likely, she just needs to get that copy of The Shorter Bartlett’s Quotations back to the library. Those fines add up.

9 Chickweed Lane, 3/22/10

One of the most annoying tendencies of serial strips is to sanctify characters until they lose all capacity for drama or comedy. Judge Parker‘s Sam Driver, Steve Roper, and Funky Winkerbean‘s bandleader Harry Dinkle has each in his turn been neutered, cast in plaster, and set up on a shelf for admiration in lieu of entertainment.

In its current story 9 Chickweed Lane — already in the running for most annoying strip in the history of ever — is going for a twofer. Mean-spirited bully Edna O’Malley (née Ernst) has already been recast as a dewy, chaste, ever-so-talented, misunderstood patriot. And here, in a single panel, her future husband is transformed from a lieutenant busted for a pointless and bungled espionage attempt into a noble set-upon war hero. Could we please have the cat back? I mean, if it’s not off in Africa curing malaria or something.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/21/10

Just when you think Herb and Jamaal has reached the top of its game, it breaks new ground. Generic dialogue? No dialogue at all! Bland characters? Unknown bland characters (Herb and Sarah’s flat-topped son Ezekiel, impy neighbor Willie, and Willie’s dad, um…)! Labored, arbitrary setups? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet! And icing on the cake, a heartwarming Mary Worth-style quotation from Malcolm X. ‘Cause if that man stood for anything, it’s that it’s OK to let yourself be victimized, as long as you can be smug about it.

Gil Thorp, 3/22/10

Underemployed dropout Steve Luhm here puts right his slightly icky will-they-or-won’t-they flirtation with Milford B-baller Cassie Corman. Cassie has a well-established taste for older boys — they don’t even have to be much older, and from the look of Ray Richey there, just about any boy will do. Well, Steve’s having none of it, and oh hey look Milford’s closing in on the point spread and Kinsella’s still on fire. Excuse me, I gotta call my bookie.

— Uncle Lumpy

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FoxTrot, 3/21/10

Earlier this evening King Features had only released those color comics with names beginning “A” through “C”. It looked like I would be forced to serve up Crock to you fine folks again, and I felt shame. The mighty Houston Chronicle eventually came to my rescue, but in my early panic I steeled myself, went out, and bought a newspaper. Well, The San Francisco Chronicle, but you know what I mean. And there, in pale ink on flimsy translucent pulp, was Steve Jobs’s vision of the comics’ future. Along with proof positive that Jason Fox does not read newspaper Spider-Man.

Crankshaft, 3/21/10

Other than that, sad to say, the Sunday funnies are mostly a cavalcade of misery, alienation, and spite — and that’s leaving out Crock. Here’s mom Lillian rejecting son Jeff’s umpteenth feeble, doomed attempt to win her favor. Hey, Jeff — I bet your pharmacist will swap that talking pillbox for something that will shut the old pill up for good.

Family Circus, 3/21/10

Of course, the “Greatest Generation” has no monopoly on shabby disregard for the feelings of loved ones. Here, Bil’s simple dream of family harmony — lovingly documented in his cartoons for more than half a century — is revealed as a hollow sham. But take heart — I hear that in a week or two, they’ll be ignoring him in favor of comics on their shiny new iPads!

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/21/10

Dysfunction abounds even in the bucolic Eden of Hootin’ Holler. In panel 5, Loweezy lets it slip that her fragile romantic life with husband Snuffy is held together by porn almost as much as moonshine.

Heh, heh — Grampy!

— Uncle Lumpy