Even Leroy Lockhorn, the most interesting man in the world, needs to update his repertoire once in a while. Loretta gladly reminds him of this as they're off to yet another Levittown cocktail party. He may have to rely tonight on his old tried-and-true standard, and that is speaking out against the institution of matrimony. As an afterthought, you would think Leroy has thousands of hospital stories, given his medical history.
Loretta has served Leroy his dinner. It is an abomination, as is anything Loretta has ever cooked. This time we have a steak, burnt beyond recognition, of the consistency of shoe leather, and emitting acrid fumes throughout the dining room. This wouldn't be the first time Leroy has recited a requiem in memory of whatever the culinary atrocity on his plate used to be.
Leroy wasn't around today, so Loretta couldn't insult him in front of an audience (comprising the sole bored looking neighbor) as usual. She resorts to insulting him when he's not even there, but it's not the same. Who prints pictures made from cell phones, anyway?
I'm guessing that Leroy has asked Dr. H. Blog M.D. for a second opinion after the doctor informed him he was overweight, hence the doctor's comment. I say guessing because I don't know what actually happened, since the doctor's response does not seem to fit at all as a retort to "I want a second opinion." The confusion and awkwardness is enhanced further by Loretta's giggling at Leroy's misfortune, especially since, as I have pointed out several times lately, their bodies have exactly the same shape.
A woman neighbor visits Loretta. She sits on the couch, transfixed with a stare of boredom, as though she would rather be anywhere else on the planet, as Loretta insults her napping husband with yet another play on words. I wonder why this scene seems so familiar?
Leroy recalls yesterday's episode at Jones Beach when it was revealed he has the body of a frog, so it stands to reason he wouldn't want to look at Loretta's body if he can help it, since their body types are, to all appearances, identical.
Panel One, upper left Love means never having to say, "Love means never having to say, "Love means never having to say, . . . and so forth. This is an infinite loop, reminiscent of the trap one falls in when one relies on cliches too often. Nonetheless, Leroy deserves credit for disguising his wisdom as a proud proclamation of his cheapness.
It's the rare evening where the Lockhorns dine out in style, which means at an establishment that is not a fast food joint. Loretta voices her opinion on the matter in her trademark sarcastic manner when the waiter presents her with the ketchup. Touche. As the evening wears on, the waiter will likely have some good stories to pass on to his coworkers for when business is slow.
It figures that Loretta, when caught off guard, is bedecked in the most cliched getup imaginable for the American housewife: bathrobe, hair curlers, fuzzy slippers, but I have to ask, where's the mudpack? Leroy's expression clearly indicates that the timing of his invitation to the neighbors was purely intentional. When has he ever invited neighbors over, anyway? The male guest and Leroy exchange knowing glances. I figure the couple have been contemplating marriage, and Leroy set the guy straight in a most striking way.
After the extremely rare occasion when Leroy buys Loretta a ring, what does she do but bring it right to the jewelers to get it appraised! You can't blame her for her curiosity, as Leroy's cheapness is legendary. Who knows where he got that thing? Why, its stone consists of a mineral unknown to science! Or, it could be the jeweler flunked chemistry in high school.
Today's scene is familiar. Leroy is napping in his favorite armchair. Loretta receives a visitor. Loretta wastes no time in parading her visitor by the reposing Leroy, for the express purpose of insulting Leroy in front of an audience. The neighbors always seem bored or annoyed by such performances, but you have to wonder why they keep visiting the Lockhorns with such consistent frequency. Maybe it's like watching cable TV. You know it's nothing but crap, and yet, you keep going back for more.
At first glance, Loretta's extravagantly arrogant pose takes center stage, as she gloats in triumph in her trademark affected manner, having officially conferred upon her husband the status of public butt of complaints. A closer inspection, however, reveals that it is Leroy who steals the show with his excellent deadpan reaction.
Even though Scrabble is a word game, Loretta's comment just doesn't make sense. If you're at all familiar with the game, I'm sure you'll agree. Loretta probably has hundreds of tired old idioms and cliches, all involving the noun "word," in mind for recital during tonight's game. A word to the wise.
In Panel One, upper left, Leroy inexplicably leaves himself wide open by tossing out an idiom which Loretta, naturally enough, chews up and spits out right back in his face.
Leroy, yet again, is embroiled in a ferocious argument with one of his neighbors. His irascibility toward his neighbors is legendary. Many of these heated discussions turn to fisticuffs, and it seems like Leroy's interlocutor is deciding between clenching his fist in anticipation of such, or flipping Leroy the bird. Loretta, of course, is there to provide commentary to whomever she can get to listen. She seems to be implying that Leroy brightens up a room by leaving it.
Today's Lockhorns panel employs two elements crucial to its astounding success over the years. One element is, of course, Leroy's carping about Loretta's atrocious cooking. The other element is the time-honored Lockhorns tradition of wordplay on some tired old idiom, in this case "cold comfort," which predates Shakespearean times. The wordplay depends on the idiotic phrase "comfort food," but it is severely hampered here because the modifier "cold" could be misconstrued as pertaining to the temperature of the culinary monstrosity Loretta has served up, instead of the horrifying quality of its essence, as was surely intended. In an attempt to prod the reader in the right direction, the cartoonists depicted the meal in question to resemble exactly, within the context of the delightfully minimalist style in which the comic is drawn, a pile of shit.
Leroy reposes in his favorite armchair, probably exhausted from the latest round of bickering with Loretta. I say this because Loretta doesn't look all too chipper herself. Nonetheless, she staunchly performs her duty by complaining about her husband to her neighbor.
Leroy carries on the Lockhorns tradition of insulting one's spouse by wordplay on a tired old idiom. An irate Loretta no doubt will get her chance to return serve, as these two longtime adversaries are evenly matched in this clever skill. Naturally, today's performance is greeted with a look of excruciating boredom from the receptionist of one Willis Green, DDS, who may or may not soon be incorporated into the Lockhorns pantheon of ancillary characters, alongside the likes of D. Pullman and H. Blog.
D. Pullman, Marriage Counselor, as usual has his hands full. Leroy and Loretta have become embroiled in yet another argument. They both fume with anger as Pullman, once again, is completely at a loss as to what to do. The argument centers on Leroy's hilarious choice for the couple's "song," a choice which, at least from his perspective, is spot on. Why, it's bad enough just forking over $175 an hour just to hear Loretta complain nonstop to this ineffectual putz of a marriage counselor.
Loretta, as usual, is angry at Leroy. Her response is to give him the cold shoulder while leaving snide little reminders around the house to indicate her ire. The best way to get under Leroy's skin is to remind him of the very words he no doubt most deeply regrets ever having uttered, and she knows it.
I like Panel One, upper left. Loretta is expecting way too much, as any Lockhorns aficionado will tell you.
Oops. Loretta forgot to insult Leroy yesterday about his paycheck. She makes up for it today by killing two birds with one stone, insulting both his paycheck and his angling prowess with a single contemptuous barb. Leroy has nobody but himself to blame, giving Loretta the perfect opportunity to spew her venom the instant she opens the door to greet him. What the hell did he expect, with that ridiculous display of pride over his catch the size of a minnow?
Facebook has been around for less than a decade. It needs pioneers. Enter Leroy. The man is already a legend in his Levittown neighborhood. His irascibility and antagonism toward his neighbors is the stuff of lore. Rude comments, shouting matches, and even fisticuffs are not outside his realm. An electronic medium may be just what he needs to ensure that his legacy become everlasting.
Loretta says she wouldn't say it. Then, after a brief pause, she says it anyway, after which she reiterates immediately that she wouldn't say it. Notwithstanding she's a fine one to comment on Leroy's weight, Loretta employs her peculiar brand of logic to insult Leroy in such a way as to confuse him into thinking about it for the rest of the day, thus providing the insult with great staying power.
When it comes to experience in refereeing fights, Arthur Mercante Sr. would have to take a back seat to D. Pullman Marriage Counselor, given the countless bouts of spiteful bickering between Leroy and Loretta that Pullman has endured. Not that he's complaining, given that he's endured it all to the melodious tune of $175 an hour. This bearded Solomon sits pensively as he peers at Leroy though his pince-nez spectacles, most likely in contempt, as Leroy's weak jab at Loretta, relying solely on the humorless premise that fault has two meanings, falls short. We can see Loretta primed to counterattack, and she'll no doubt take Round 7 on points.
Loretta, the sage housewife of the Levittown plains, receives many visitors, every one of whom she will lead, nonchalantly, by Leroy's vicinity so that she might deliver a one-liner, always an insult directed toward Leroy which involves wordplay on an idiom, to an audience, invariably unimpressed, of one. Even though Loretta delivers her mot du jour in perfect rhyme, the neighbor's bored expression indicates that this new twist won't make a difference, especially after witnessing perhaps hundreds of such performances. Loretta's wit is again wasted, forever lost in the wilderness of space and time, and deservedly so, much like this blog.
Loretta is the embodying spirit of every negative stereotype pertaining to the American housewife imaginable. Today she adds to the list an incredible naivety. I have a hard time believing she can be that dumb, given all the cleverly plotted abuse, verbal and otherwise, she has directed toward Leroy for years. Then again, as she's never worked, she very well may be ignorant of the ways of bill collectors, which could, at least partially, explain her ridiculously compulsive shopping habits. But if this be the case, why has it taken Leroy so long to notice?
Let us revel. Today's Lockhorns Sunday comics cornucopia begins in Panel One, top left, where Leroy is busy at his trusted iMac, apparently using Google to settle a bet with his neighbor, which is plausible, given Leroy's argumentative nature. Since Loretta embodies every negative stereotype regarding American housewives ever conceived, it's not surprising to learn that vanity toward her age is one of them.
Somehow, Leroy was able to swing for a reasonably priced low season vacation package for two at Punta Cana. Vacation or not, he must still contend with Loretta's constant nettlesome presence. She has him writing post cards to her insane mother, a living relic of the Victorian Age. This prompts Leroy to speak the simple truth, baldly and directly, with no adages, cliches, or puns thrown in, thereby producing perhaps the greatest mother-in-law gag ever seen in print.
Loretta's head has grown in size to exceed that of her body. It dominates today's panel, encompassing all of its center. The woman on the couch is mesmerized by this freak phenomenon. What has caused Loretta's head to swell to such gigantic proportions? That's easy: after decades of trying, she's finally succeeded in breaking Leroy's spirit. As Leroy's mien in the background confirms, countless years of Loretta's nagging have reduced him to a lifeless mope, forever lost in a daze of anguishing ennui and despair.
Presumably Dr. H. Blog M.D. is Leroy's primary care physician in Leroy's HMO. Thus Leroy, ever irascible, may be taking a well-aimed potshot at the doctor. With Loretta standing right there, he has blown a golden opportunity to say, "My headaches started when I got married." How often does a chance like that pop up?
Again we see Leroy managing his finances on a table, and not at the infamous tall boy desk. This gives Loretta more space, and a better vantage point from which to kibbutz. As she belongs to the same gym as Leroy, may we assume she did not renew her membership? Otherwise, she loses credibility, since she's just as guilty as Leroy at today's scintillating idiom, throwing good money after bad.
The neighbors, you may have noticed, seem to pop in to visit the Lockhorns with unnaturally high frequency. It's always the same. The neighbor looks on with an air of bored indifference as one Lockhorns spouse insults the other, always with a well-timed one-liner delivered to the neighbor comprising an audience of one. Today's audience is especially tough. The bald guy seems thoroughly unimpressed by Leroy's brilliant metaphor about Loretta's dreadful cooking. It is apparent the palates of Levittown are refined to the point where only the purest levels of vicious spite and acerbic loathing will suffice as entertainment.
Even Loretta can sympathize with Leroy, as she glumly tells the reason for his sadness to her neighbor, who resembles an anthropologist observing her subject. If only Leroy knew of his fame outside the wretched universe in which he lives! In his own world a nondescript schlep, he has no way of knowing about all the wonderful, provocative hits we get when those of us in the real world google "Leroy Lockhorn," thus providing ourselves with hours of intense surfing pleasure.
Lockhorns Sunday kicks off with the revelation that Leroy keeps a podium in the house. It's handy for occasions when Leroy wishes to engage in diversions, such as bowling, that will provide him with much-needed relief from Loretta's constant annoying presence. All it takes is some bombastic oratory, accentuated by fist-pounding and sprinkled with quotes from the Declaration of Independence. 
Leroy's arms barely reach beyond his eyes, but this doesn't stop him from celebrating wildly as the hockey game he's been watching has gone into overtime. Since his beloved Islanders didn't even make the playoffs, he cares naught who wins the game. His pleasure derives solely from Loretta's chagrin at having to sit through more sports on TV instead of getting to watch some Lifetime, and her whining only accentuates it.
The prospect of being cooped up in the house with Leroy has Loretta frantically taping pictures of famous landmarks onto the living room walls as a means of escape. If Leroy and Loretta get on each other's nerves too much, the Lockhorns may well end up on a slaycation. Clearly, they're better off with a naycation, which is no vacation at all, but the very least they could consider alternatives, such as a haycation (a drive to rural Upstate New York), or a raycation (renting a pair of sunlamps). The possibilities are endless.
The current story line in Mary Worth is about a woman whose compulsive shopping habits have rendered her life out of control. There can be no doubt that the authors of this beloved serial comic strip have pored over decades of Lockhorns cartoons as part of their research into this psychological phenomenon, as Loretta remains to this day the best known literary figure among the world's compulsive shoppers. The most startling aspect of Loretta's affliction is the gloating expression she wears on her face as she returns home with yet more armloads of unnecessary and expensive purchases. She absolutely beams with pride, basking in the purely spiteful pleasure of having run Leroy's credit card debts even higher. Leroy can do no more than take advantage of having been casually standing by the front door with his neighbor as Loretta made her entrance, so as to deliver a one-liner in front of an audience. It remains a mystery as to why Loretta's father ever married a woman who dresses up like Queen Victoria.
A greeting card display case grandly supplies the scenery for today's panel. It is clear that Leroy is the intended recipient of Loretta's get-well card, as she explains its purpose to the saleswoman, that being to taunt and nag him as he recuperates from the latest self-inflicted injury incurred while attempting to do handy work around the house. The alarming frequency of this phenomenon, along with Loretta's slyly cool demeanor, suggest perhaps that Leroy's demise may not have occurred entirely by accident.
Leroy lumbers about the house, disheveled, unshaven, and unkempt. He baldly scratches himself, as his dolorous eyes scan The Racing Form for more losing horses. He's well beyond caring about his appearance, his demeanor, or, from the looks of things, his hygiene. Loretta, thoroughly embarrassed in front of her neighbor, saves face by declaring openly her venomous disgust for Leroy, deeming him unfit as human chattel. The neighbor steals the scene with her defensive posture, coiling back into the couch as far as possible from Loretta, her hands firmly gripping the couch cushions and her eyes narrowed in icy cool alertness, as she anticipates Loretta's next move as one would a cobra's.
Scooters, not at all to be confused with Hooters, is that well known chain of restaurants famous for its waitresses, who just happen to be Leroy's preferred type of woman, approximately seven and a half feet tall (five of which comprise the legs), with twelve inch waists, and with breasts comparable to Chesty Morgan's. Leroy's passing comment is clearly meant to taunt Loretta, whose bodily dimensions exactly mirror Leroy's. Come to think of it, she can't cook, either. This could get ugly.
Today's Sunday Lockhorns is outstanding. We have Leroy in the hospital, an appointment with D. Pullman, Leroy in an art gallery, Loretta's dieting fiascos, and Leroy's bimbo-ogling, all in one glorious set of panels. These are five acute specimens from the pantheon of beloved Lockhorns gags, and we should take the time to be appreciative. 
It appears Loretta knows a dark secret of the hardware store clerk, and is blackmailing him into helping her to embarrass Leroy in Public. She should be careful. Continually pointing out Leroy's bad taste will lead people to think it pertains to his taste in spouses as well.
In spite of his ongoing battles with the bathroom scale, Leroy cannot resist the temptation of a handy box of doughnuts. Loretta, herself immersed in perpetual self-loathing over her body image, takes offense at Leroy's transgression. Either that, or she fears that the appetite-suppressing qualities of the doughnuts will deny her the pleasure of torturing Leroy with her horrible cooking that evening.
Loretta can't wait to see the look on Leroy's face when he learns that his credit card limit has been exceeded. It's too bad the clerk and the neighbor do not share in the obvious pleasure Loretta feels whenever she tortures Leroy by running up his debts.
We're all familiar with the stereotype of the wife remembering every damn thing her husband has ever said, but perhaps it's inaccurate. Whatever the case, Loretta's taking no chances, as Leroy explains in his trademark deadpan delivery to his neighbor, who is clearly ill at ease at witnessing further examples of the obsessive spite that dominates the couple's relationship. It's reasonable to assume that Leroy's faults are not a matter of public record, and thus we may conclude Loretta builds her "scrapbook" with hand written notes in which she criticizes her husband, thereby raising the art of nagging beyond pathological levels.
Today we see a new twist on an old gag, popular many years ago, when an unsuspecting patron would open a fortune cookie to read, "Help! I'm being held prisoner in a Chinese fortune cookie factory!" Perhaps The Lockhorns is commenting in a sly way on the new wave of paranoia sweeping America in the midst of these stark economic times. It's surprising to learn that embassies now have the power to arrest and detain citizens of their host country, and even set bail. What happens if Leroy and Loretta jump bail? Will the embassy police send a special unit to Levittown?
Loretta, having been force fed by the media the notion that spouses must always ask the question "How was your day?", demands that Leroy do the same. Meanwhile, Leroy deeply regrets having opened a twitter account, as it has enabled Loretta to annoy him constantly, even when he's at work. We have the recipe for a pleasant evening of bickering.
Loretta, as insecure a social climber as ever there was, drags Leroy against his will to the ballet. Leroy will return the favor by poking at her ridiculous grandiosity all evening long with the down home earthly sarcasm of the common man. 
Abstraction abounds as we see Levittown's latest soiree taking place in midair. The Lockhorns have arrived late. Leroy apologizes, and promptly blames Loretta, for their tardiness. Leroy and the host clearly are not thrilled to see each other, so it's likely they're late by Leroy's own design. Understandably, Loretta resents being made a scapegoat in what's shaping up to be a tense and awkward evening for all involved.
