You Don't Know What You're Missing!

Normally my policy is to discourage young talent (they only get in the
way), but I make an exception for Emily Gordon, who has the elegant taste of
someone from a more refined era, when the cocktails and conversation rapturously
flowed, and a piano tinkled in the background. So the Algonquin was the perfect
setting for drinks and gab, the waiters emerging like Henry James ghosts from
the dark polished wood in the lobby. At one point she alerted me to a site
called The Comics Curmudgeon, devoted to the explication, appreciation, and cheerful desecration of daily comic strips that continue to drift in their own strange perpetual purgatory, like Gasoline Alley and Mary Worth. Now that I've found it, I can't believe I haven't tumbled over Comics Curmudgeon before, given my own low-grade obsession with For Better or Worse and fascinatingly unfunny and badly scrawled strips like Girls and Sports and One Big Happy.

--James Wolcott

(emphasis mine)