A Secret Shame...

My friends, I am sure that some, nay all, of you have wondered why this blogger has been so lax in his contributions of late. "Is it his demanding work schedule," some of you have no doubt asked yourselves. "Or perhaps his many brilliant artistic forays require his undivided attention," you wonder dreamily. Well let those questions linger no longer. It is time, my friends, for the truth: I have shamed myself. I live in a state of pitiable 'mixtual turpitude and trepidation, gnawed by the fear that the public should learn certain facts about my proclivities. But it is time for the light of day to shine down, and for me to expose myself warts and all. Yes, my friends, it is true. I enjoy Elderberries.
Not just enjoy! Of late, it is my most consistent laugh on the page, indeed, I laugh OUT LOUD almost daily upon reading it. Dusty's charming foibles, Evelyn and Tom the cat, Boone and his disdain for rival shipping companies. Even the Professor, consumate straight man. All of them have wormed their way into my squalid, unworthy heart. And ah, Ludmilla, grande dame of the kitchen and keeper of the Soviet flame. And my morning merriment is no mere chuckle, friends, no, but a belly laugh to surpass even that which Blondie brings to me each day. And the crowning jewel on the head of the Royal Elderberries: the fact that all this mirth is rendered by a man now sadly passed away! For whatever reason his name remains in the byline, and his soul remains at the heart of the strip. You might assume the strips to be merely stockpiled from before his death, but I ask you, would Dusty and Boone's current Wii-related storyline have been written over a year ago? Not likely. But in any event, let's take a look at today's glorious panellations:








The Geriatric Six Million Dollar Man! I'm in stitches. And Dusty's charming dialect (confoundingly shared by Boone in panel two)! Old men, up past midnight! Some of you may, by this point, think that I am being sarcastic in my appreciation of Elderberries, but I assure you it is not the case. I am as bewildered by this as any of you, believe me. How has this happened? Have I become prematurely aged? Have I lost my taste for the finer things in 'mix? All I can offer you is the truth of my situation friends, my secret shame, and leave the rest to you to decide.

Chutney and Curtis, sitting in a tree?

I can't remember whether Curtis appears in the Chron, so you west coasters might be out of the loop for this one-- fasten those seat belts, because it seems another Jon*-dates-Liz mind blower might be a brewin'.

At first I thought old Ray B. was yanking our collective crank, but look at the expression on the C-man's face in the third panel. It is one of yearning, of hope! Those exclamation lines or whatever you would call them, that then in panel 4 are the same color as Chutney's exclamation lines. Perhaps we are to interpret that as them being on the same page? Only time can tell but come on, Curtis, Michelle is a total cooze. Chutney is as spicily sweet as her namesake. My fingers are officially crossed.

*(Q. A.)