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Prince Valiant, 3/28/10

A couple minor setbacks in the inky gloom is all it takes for Val to ditch Aleta and high-tail it back to the surface: “Hey, Arn, I tried, all right?” No matter, though — these guys who seemed so scary back in October come off up close like cranky grey Smurfs or tiny Burghers of Calais or something.

And while it’s sad to see Aleta’s slow-mo trail-marking striptease come to an end, under the circumstances a “loss of prudence” may be exactly what she needed.

Slylock Fox, (panel) 3/28/10

Sly, enraged that inamorata Cassandra Cat prefers his well-endowed rival Buford Bull, lashes out with yet another flimsy, jewelry-related pretext for jealous revenge. I ask: who’s the real heel here?

Only Max notices actual thief Reeky Rat, whose hiding place is becoming his tomb. “Squeak!” “Squeeeeeeeeak!”

Comics for Kids?—I think not!

The Lockhorns (panel), 3/28/10

Loretta corresponds online with Darkness Itself, who logs off in haste and horror.

Mary Worth (panel), 3/28/10

In an otherwise undistinguished recap of the week’s non-events, Mary vents her disgust and resentment at Bonnie and Fine Ernie Johnson, with their to-themselves-keeping, intrusion-resenting, arrogant lowness of key. Just who the hell do these people think they are?

Hey, yeah, still me. Heh, heh: y’know, Josh, amirite? Monday for sure, I’m told.

— Uncle Lumpy

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So ends the Spring 2010 Comics Curmudgeon Fundraiser. Thank you, generous readers!

Sally Forth, 3/27/10

Panel 1: The Sallies have arranged a pleasant evening for you, Ted. Do not distract them.
Panel 2: See? You scared one off. Also, Jackie will now marry Ralph. It’s the universe, Ted. Don’t toy with it.

Apartment 3-G, 3/27/10

Dr. Bryant, because he is an idiot, will trust Dr. Papagoras’s professional discretion in this matter.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/27/10

Cucumbers … what?!! Pickle relish? A cooling summer salad? Rejuvenation of delicate skin around the eyes? God damn you, Jughaid!

Dick Tracy, 3/27/10

Dick will not get his peace and quiet, and the caller is, in fact, quite serious. But the call is not for him. Dick Tracy is a web of lies.

Gil Thorp, 3/27/10

I dunno — looks to me like he’s playing defense there in panel three. This sports action is so confusing. But then —

Blondie, 3/27/10

Hey, that’s a pretty good look for Dagwood. Blondie, not so much.

That’s it for me; Josh will be back Sunday unless he gets waylaid or, y’know, tired or something. I had a really fun week – thanks, everybody!

— Uncle Lumpy

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The Comics Curmudgeon Spring 2010 Fundraiser

Today is the final day of the biannual fundraiser — so if you haven’t already, please join me and and your other fellow readers in supporting Josh Fruhlinger’s fine work here on the Comics Curmudgeon. Act now — thank you!

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

Apartment 3-G, 3/26/10

Hey, it’s Dr. Skully “Chemo” Bryant, by all appearances — and against all odds — still alive! In a fit of dementia last September, Bryant turned over his lucrative psychiatric practice to medical impersonator Aristotle Papagoras, who quickly transformed it into a walk-in narcotics dispensary and Love Shack, setting the Bobbie Merrill story in motion.

Today, Dr. Bryant makes good his commitment to locate Merrill’s medical records, showing Papagoras that words like “professional” and “oath” still mean something to somebody in his business any more. The records had been filed under Bobbie Merrill’s married name, which was …. Which waaaaaaas …?

Anton Chekhov is famously reported to have said, “If in Act I you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act”. Well, faithful readers, we have our pistol, and the clouds are gathering for the final act — but whose will it be?

Hägar the Horrible, 3/26/10

It’s funny because that’s what the word means! Seriously, aren’t we approaching some kind of limit on what qualifies as “wordplay”?

Mary Worth, 3/26/10

Mary, already in her priestly garb, calls from outside the compound on her burner cell, but her chosen sacrifice evades the trap. Honestly! Salmon squares it is, then.

In panel two, Toby dashes off a landscape while her portrait of Ian dries.

Slylock Fox, 3/3, 3/19, 3/26/10

“I see. Well, let’s go back up to 30 milligrams and see if they stop.”

— Uncle Lumpy