Welcome to the reboot of my old Sunday newspaper comics feature, all grown up. The Sunday funnies have always made me irrationally angry, even as a kid, and by God you’re going to all hear about it. That’s all you need to know.

This was my favorite thing to do on my old blog, and I only did five of them. I’m here to rectify this and fill this stupid website with a garbage dump of this shit! You lucky so-and-so.

Cathy

Cathy ended over ten years ago, but “classics” continue to permeate the newspapers of many cities nationwide. Replete with archaic gender role-related humor that would make Wendy from Thackerville, Oklahoma accidentally snort half her 128oz Big Gulp up her fat, fleshy nose, Cathy is a breath of fresh air for women everywhere whose husbands or boyfriends leave the house with the intention of picking up AA batteries for a Hello Kitty vibrator and come back nine hours later with fifty-seven dead pheasants in the backs of their camo pickup trucks.

Here we see Cathy and her friends sip cans of “dick” while sharing similar anecdotes about their significant others, allegedly, respectively, purchasing brand new TVs every time there’s a new football game. There’s a lot I hate about this particular strip, and maybe it was groundbreaking when it was created 91 years ago, but what self-respecting woman in 2022 would relate with “SHOPPING!!!” and not feel completely insulted by this kind of sentiment? Eat shit, Cathy. Get a nose.

Pluggers

I don’t understand this! Is this some “kids these days” boomer bitching? What’s a “plugger” and why do they reject technology that has been around since they were all 30 years old? Why are we thanking Gregory D. Grabiak, M.D., from Labtrobe, Pennsylvania? Was he a special guest at one of the many post-presidency Trump rallies, speaking up against that awful Dr. Fauci and his nefarious web of democracy-undermining plandemic lies???

Bonus points on this one for featuring Andy Bear. I hate it when my Pluggers comics don’t feature Andy Bear.

Blondie

My white-hot hatred for Blondie knows no bounds. Every panel I read fills me with seething, murderous anger. I know I don’t have a soul because there’s a void within me like a gas tank constantly being replenished with Blondie-related premium, unleaded misanthropy.

It’s like whoever writes for Blondie tries their damnedest to craft every sentence with utmost care and precision in order to send every last milliliter of stomach acid straight to my brain. Where do I even begin? Do centenarians Dean Young and John Marshall know that football has been going on fairly uninterrupted for the last two years? Do they even know anything about football? The dialogue is so unnatural that the two of them no doubt performed some grueling research on the topic and this is the best they both could come up with. Why are these knuckleheads wearing helmets? So they don’t injure themselves jerking each other off during halftime?

If you’re looking to spice up your love life, though, no better line to initiate foreplay quite like “Amigo, are you ready for some full-contact football playoff action?” Your unsuspecting partner will be like putty in your hands.