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Heathcliff, 9/14/24

One of the hazards of the Backup Comics Blogger business is that you start musing about the interior lives of comic strip characters. To wit: does Heathcliff resent Garfield? I mean, he’s got nothing to be ashamed of: Heathcliff has run for fifty years; launched a TV show, movie, and more than 50 books; hung in the Louvre; and sponsored NASCAR driver T.J. Bell (2007 Ford F-150 #50). But relative latecomer Garfield (1976) is a force of nature: the world’s most widely syndicated strip; multiple TV specials; TV series in the US (four Emmys), France, and coming up on Nickelodeon; and wellspring of the Paws, Inc. licensing and merchandising juggernaut sold to Viacom in 2019 for an undisclosed amount probably north of a quarter billion dollars. When you think “orange comic-strip cat,” Heathcliff is probably your second thought.

So I understand Grandma Nutmeg’s mistake; I’ve made it myself. But I understand Heathcliff’s little scowl, too.

Crankshaft, 9/14/24

[Author’s note: On Wednesday I compared legacy comic strip Funky Winkerbean to a parasitic snail. That comparison was mean-spirited and grossly unfair. I have heard and understood those to whom I’ve caused incalculable pain and harm. I am profoundly sorry, and extend my sincere apologies to parasitic snails everywhere.]

In his Joan of Arc play Die Jungfrau von Orleans, Schiller wrote, “Mit der Dummheit kämpfen Götter selbst vergebens”—”Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain.” But I wish at least a couple of those gods would contend with Les here, so I don’t have to. Consider: Les is working around the School Board’s ill-drafted rule that disapproved books can’t be ordered by the school [nudge nudge wink wink] by ordering copies himself to be distributed to students through a local bookstore. Why not just pass them out in class? Don’t know!

And when that bookstore is torched by an angry mob, he accepts the kindly offer of another bookstore owner to take over distribution. What could go wrong? Maybe that thing that went wrong last time? Nah, it’ll be fine.

Frankly, if this “banned book” prestige arc ends with some stupid pun about Harry L. Dinkle’s “band books,” I’ll be strangely satisfied. That’s all I’ve got for you today, Les: go away now!

Luann, 9/14/24

OK here’s another Les, sort of a palate-cleanser. Like Thomas Fairchild in Sabrina—who took a chauffeur’s job so he’d have time to read books—Leslie Knox is unambitious, comfortable in his own skin, and content. He’s the bad one. Whiny, manipulative, anxiety-ridden, passive-aggressive Mama’s-boy Gunther is the good one. You will be made to agree!

Pearls before Swine, 9/14/24

Geez, and here I thought Dagwood was a fascist. Fight the cyclocracy!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/14/24

Panel three: Mary Worth plops down between Parker and Truck and hisses, “Listen to me, young man. You get right back on that bike and this time, stay in your lane.”


So ends the 2024 Comics Curmudgeon Fall Fundraiser. Josh sends his grateful thanks from far-off sunny Italy, and I add my own. Thank you, generous readers!

—Uncle Lumpy

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Phantom, 9/13/24

The AI-powered Avarice bot learns from the creatures around it and imitates their behavior! It won’t be long before it’s hoarding priceless relics, lording it over the natives, and acting like a dick to the Jungle Patrol!

Zits, 9/13/24

Jeremy achieves Singularity with a polite, considerate, relatable AI version of himself. But I call shenanigans: there’s no way the AI learned those behaviors by training on the Internet.

Rhymes with Orange, 9/13/24

Oh c’mon everybody knows commercials are for looking at your phone.

Gil Thorp, 9/13/24

My only connection to football is a vestigial fondness for the Green Bay Packers from the dairyland of my birth. But in the words of our compatriots over at This Week in Milford, what the hell is going on here? Green Team’s QB is passing left but Milford’s defenseman intercepts it on the right. Did our point of view cross the line in panel two? And where’s the runback? Anybody looking to disprove the General Relativity theory of space-time should fire a couple electrons into Gil Thorp.

Sherman’s Lagoon, 9/13/24

Fillmore sits in homage to his idol Truck Tyler, waiting for inspiration. Sadly, Hawthorne’s assaults will cause his pickin’ finger to lock up.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/13/24

All that bullyin’ don’t sit well with Truck, who knows a thing or two about sittin’.


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—Uncle Lumpy

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Gearhead Gertie, 9/12/24

Those are legit NASCAR car‑and‑driver number flags. Of course they are; this is Gearhead Gertie. But if Gertie is a fan of more than a third of the field, can she really claim to be a fan at of any individual team? (Tip: don’t ever tell a NASCAR fan it’s not a team sport.) Does she even care who wins, or is she just there for the noise, fumes, and camaraderie? I also wonder about Gertie’s relationship with dashed‑pride‑guy there. Will they bond over their shared admiration of Josh Berry and Chase Elliott, or squabble over the merits of Kyle Busch and Harrison Burton?

Six Chix, 9/12/24

Use emojis to immunize yourself against the spontaneous laughter-induced buttockectomy that put this poor lady in the hospital. Or just read Six Chix every day and nip the problem in its bud.

Take It from the Tinkersons, 9/12/24

Once a year or so, this mostly joke‑a‑day strip veers wildly into over‑the‑top workplace dramedy. Ellen here is the new sales manager at Ed‑N‑Son Light Bulbs. She claims to be the twin of former sales manager and suspected serial killer Helen who, like many of her colleagues, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. But everybody assumes she’s really Helen and fears the worst.

Ted, facing an empty future hawking knockoff light bulbs in a shrinking market dominated by Big LED, embraces the risk. All things considered, suicide by proxy looks like the easy way out.

Blondie, 9/12/24

Dag, when you’re counting on Social Security and a pension from the J.C. Dithers Company for steady income, it just might be time to check out Powerball.

Rex Morgan, 9/12/24

Parker sits beside the seated Truck, who muses, “if only I had worn one of those newfangled finger helmets, I wouldn’t be sitting here today! And yet today here I sit!”


—Uncle Lumpy