Post Content

Oh my gosh it’s the last week of August, and if kids haven’t already gone back to whatever passes for school in 2021, they’re thinking hard about it. Let’s join in …

Baby Blues, 8/30/21

“Kids don’t want to go to school, and their parents can’t wait to get rid of them” is a trope usually found in family comic strips. But once Wanda finds out Darryl is working from home this fall, they’ll be smack in the middle of Lockhorns country.

Crankshaft, 8/30/21

Ed Crankshaft’s clients avoid him at the cost of their own convenience and their children’s futures. Checks out.

Gil Thorp, 8/30/21

Gil Thorp kicks off the school year with sports-team carwashes on every Milford streetcorner. Mom Claxton seems to think these have something to do with getting your car cleaned, but Tevin knows the score. And as an avid consumer of such services myself, I can pass along a tip: “Psst, Tevin—Girls’ water polo.”

Rhymes with Orange, 8/30/21

Yikes, who would have expected Rhymes with Orange to take the baton from Dick Tracy in the “Ironic Deaths” relay? Those sprinkles are just twisting the knife.

Garfield, 8/30/21

Oh, come ON! What do you think this is, Heathcliff?

— Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

Funky Winkerbean, 8/29/21

Oh, poor Les is leaving Hollywood—a place he slags relentlessly, creeps out, ham-handedly bilks, and now pretends to relish leaving.

But apparently his self-satisfaction is tinged with regret that high-school English teachers aren’t held in the same high regard as Hollywood writers. Fortunately, good writers—and even Les—draw material from their own lives, so here’s the seed for Lisa’s Story IV: Les Moore is a Pompous Hypocrite.

Mark Trail, 8/29/21

After delivering a helpful lesson about birds breaking wind, Mark is himself educated by a goose. I bet it plans to “modify his habitat,” too.

Prince Valiant, 8/29/21

Long story short, Val has been drugged by a mysterious hooded sorceress on his way back to Camelot. But he convinced a couple of raven-hallucinations to alert his wife/sorceress Aleta, so mystical help is only a matter of time. While we wait, let’s all admire that shark-on-a-rope guarding the throne.

— Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

Funky Winkerbean, 8/28/21

“Wait, you don’t have cancer? And here I thought you were coming on to me, you little tease!”

Judge Parker, 8/28/21

A Christmas Reunion

April watched her sigh dissolve in the icy air. The blur of life on the run, the breakup, all led her back here, to Cavelton. Her Dad needed her: the family business was on the rocks. Just one more job, he said, for Abby. Good money, done by Christmas, then Mallorca.

She crossed the square past the carolers, careful to stay within sightlines from the bank roof. In position on the Courthouse steps, right on time. Distract the mayor, five seconds tops, then run with the crowd.

The doors opened to reveal … Randy? But not the cringing loser she had abandoned: this man strode confidently, head high— like a Judge. Shocked and excited, she glanced up and purred, “Hey, you.” “April? Is it really you?” he replied, taking her hands just as the bullet from Norton’s rifle tore through his lung. “Bastard!” April thought, “Mallorca, my ass!”

Kneeling beside Randy on the now empty steps, she heard him whisper, “This … this is where we belong … together!” They embraced for the last time, as the Christmas music swelled and snow began to fall.

Mary Worth, 8/28/21

Where duels were illegal, duellists often settled their scores on boundary-river sandbars of uncertain jurisdiction. This is the precedent for Wilbur and Libby duking it out in the litter box.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/28/21

The Morgans return to their roots—getting free stuff, and deciding which free stuff they prefer to the other free stuff they get.

Oh, hi! I’m sitting in through Monday, September 6, while Josh visits friends and family back East. Reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net with any site or comment issues.

Be sure to alert me if you have trouble reading this in Josh’s new ultra-convenient newsletter format—I’m new to it, and different platforms/email clients treat html differently.

— Uncle Lumpy