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Sincere thanks to everyone who supported the Pledge Drive — and if the appeal didn’t fit your schedule, budget, or charitable priorities, thank you for your patience. No more fund-raising ’til fall I promise, although “surprise” contributions are always a welcome treat! The button’s at the left under the Comment of the Week there. Just sayin’.

If you missed any of the Pledge Drive banners, they’re at the bottom of this page.

— Uncle Lumpy

Funky Winkerbean, 4/18/09

Passive-aggressive zombie Lisa Moore deftly sinks the hook, assuring that the condom will stay in Les’s jacket until he needs to replace the elbow-patches again. (No, he does not keep the condom in his wallet: Lisa’s picture is in that wallet! Duh!)

Personal note: Most of the time, making fun of comics is like plinking cans with a .22 — an idle diversion, not too destructive. An especially irritating strip might make me wish for a slightly higher caliber. But when the Dead Chick shows up in Funky Winkerbean, I start wondering how big a thermonuclear device it would take to blow eastern Ohio to rust and splinters. I suspect this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m working on it.

Mark Trail, 4/18/09

In panic, Rusty bends time, space, and perspective as Sassy’s wild glee ends in dismay.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/18, 3/28/09 (details, retouched: originals here and here)

Just as Seinfeld famously expanded the horizons of observational comedy, so Rex Morgan, M.D. opens new vistas for observational drama. Clueless yuppies Rex and June drift along on chitchat and ice cream, vaguely entertained by the epidemics, kidnappings, and murders that backdrop their meaningless lives. Great fortunes are reversed, families ruined, lives lost — none of it touches them.

Until now. In the person of Agnes Dunsmore, June confronts her own gin-soaked, loveless future. Staring through the veil at those fissures and spider-veins as into a mirror, she forms the thought that burns in her eyes, and breathes, “Guido — and now — before it’s too late!”

— Uncle Lumpy

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It’s the final day of the Comics Curmudgeon Spring Pledge Drive, so if you’ve been waiting for a dramatic moment to drop your awesome cash bomb, now’s the time!



Just click the banner to contribute by PayPal® or credit card, or get an address for a check or cash. And a sincere thank you to everyone whose generosity helps keep the Comics Curmudgeon strong and independent.

Gil Thorp, 4/17/09

One of the many charms of Gil Thorp is its punctilious attention to the names of players, teams, and incidental characters whom we may never see again and will certainly never care about! Rich, here, for example, or WHCC, the fictitious one-step-above-public-access Milford TV station (and not the actual Bloomington, IN country FM radio station). But “Spartans” seems a little off for the St. Mark’s team — shouldn’t it be the “Lions” or the “Friars” or something? Hey, the “Notaries” would be a great name for a ball team!

Shoe, 4/17/09

Shoe ups the ante on “that is not how birds work” humor.

Beetle Bailey, 4/17/09

When does anvil season start? Soon, right? Please?

Mary Worth, 4/17/09

“That’s not love — that’s not even coherent.” But hey, do you suppose Doc Jeff ran a background check on his beloved Mary? And if so, what dark mysteries did he uncover?

Judge Parker, 4/17/09

I basically got nuthin’ here — a little more exposition on the The Fabulous Ledge-Danube/Rasmussen-Akermans to run out the clock on a slow week, tempered as always by Eduardo Barreto’s handsome draftsmanship. But thanks in no small part to determined rabble-rousing by faithful reader Dave and others, and a rousing response by us cookie-clearin’ survey-stuffin’ rabble, Judge Parker has been reinstated by The Washington Post. Way to go!

— Uncle Lumpy

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For many of us, the past six months have been a little rough. If the Comics Curmudgeon helped smooth things out, why not return the favor?



To contribute by PayPal® or credit card, click the banner. To send cash, check, fruitcake or loose gemstones, reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net for the address. Either way, thank you!

Why would any comic strip merely amuse or entertain its readers, when it could Speak Out on Important Concerns of Today’s Youth — who will totally not laugh at pathetic attempts to imitate their slang! Word up? For sha-zizzle, bros — and brosettes!

Crankshaft, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — don’t cheat! Because cheating cheats you and the game — and that helps the game win! You love the game, don’t you? Of course you do — that’s why you want it to win! And if that means you have to lose, well, suck it up! Get on the damn juice — for the sake of the game! Um, wait a minute; I’m a little confused here. Weren’t we supposed to have a flashback or something? CUE THE DAMN FLASHBACK!

Curtis, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — be true to yourselves, and all your dreams will come true. Of course, they’ll probably come true for somebody else — somebody whose idea of “true to himself” involves shameless ass-kissing.

Mark Trail, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — don’t smoke! And don’t become criminals! But if you do become criminals — really, really stupid criminals — don’t go out for an all-afternoon fishing trip without your smokes, because that is not how addiction works. At least do something right, fer Chrissake!

Spider-Man, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — do you know what to do in the event of an electrical fire? Do you:

• Stop it with a rubber mat? NO! — It will just bat the mat away — like a foul ball!
• Douse it with water? NO! — Water won’t douse an electrical fire — loser!
• Dress it up in a ridiculous spiky outfit? NO! — Electrical fires have no shame, and will appear in public thus garbed!
• Stop it with a can of sand? NO! — I pan your can of sand, my man — electric fires withstand such plans!
• Perhaps if I employed a bucket? NO! — and watch your damn mouth, kid!
• Well, what if I call Spider-Man? OK, you’re just messing with me now.

Zippy the Pinhead, 4/16/09

Well, maybe not “Slim Jim.” But we’re with you the rest of the way, pal.

What the hell is wrong with these people? — an occasional feature!

Edge City, 4/6, 9, 10, 14, 15, 16/09

What the hell is wrong with these people?

— Uncle Lumpy