clerk: Browse The Strips

Friday June 7, 2019

Lynn's Comments: I think I’ve said before that the word "stoopid" ruffled a lot of readers' feathers. Many times I had to explain that despite the spelling, this is the way some words sound. They were not appeased. Artistic license is not necessarily a license to misspell!

Saturday July 13, 2019

Lynn's Comments: Here, Michael is served the one thing he really doesn’t want to eat.

My Aunt Margaret worked at Moir’s Chocolates during the 1950s. Every year, she’d send us a box of chocolates for Christmas. I thought she had the best job in the world. One year, when I was about 10, she came with her family from Ontario to Vancouver to visit us and I told her I would love to work in a chocolate factory. She laughed! She told me she was sick of chocolate! Apparently, the day she was sent to the packaging floor of the factory, she was told that all the employees were invited to eat as much chocolate as they wanted. She dug in! After two days, she had no desire to eat, touch or smell chocolate, and that everyone else felt the same. The Moir’s Company policy paid off. Sadly, Margie’s dislike of chocolate lasted the rest of her life!

Sunday November 3, 2019

Lynn's Comments: After I drew up this strip, I actually found a boot drying rack just like the one I drew here. It was home made. My guess is that some enterprising company is making them out of plastic now!

Sunday December 8, 2019

Lynn's Comments: Every now and then I did a serious and reflective punch line. I had to. This wouldn’t have been a realistic look inside the home of a North American family if the characters took their good health and good fortune for granted. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to buy groceries like this!

Sunday May 31, 2020

Lynn's Comments: The scenarios that took place in grocery stores and pharmacies were fun to draw, but the artists who helped to ink and colour the backgrounds for me hated them—there were just too many little details.

Thursday August 6, 2020

Lynn's Comments: This is from a summer I spent in Quebec. I was 16 and had gone to Montreal to learn French and to help my Aunt with my young cousins. I wrote letters to the "boy I left behind," and he never wrote back to me. I was heartbroken. Just one letter would have been nice. He didn't have to say anything personal...just "Hi" and I would have been thrilled.

Sunday May 1, 2022

Lynn's Comments: This Sunday was the result of a "what if" scenario. I was in a department store change booth trying on bathing suits with a growing sense of doom. Everything seemed designed to accentuate my worst assets. My daughter was old enough to know not to escape and lead me on a chase through a busy mall, but the thought crossed my mind. What if I had to run out in public wearing the disastrous suit I was struggling into? This idea made its way onto the Sunday page, and the result was a flood of letters from other moms similarly disgusted by the cruel offerings foisted on us by bathing suit manufacturers.