Pete’s concept of gravity and space appears to be on a par with Wonder Woman’s understanding of how rockets work. Objects in space don’t need bubbles or anything else to keep them “afloat”. But Batiuk’s on a roll here, so let’s let him have his fun, I guess.
21 thoughts on “Bursting with Inanity”
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Son of Stuck Funky 
EWW!!!!!!!!! Does Mopey Pete have BREASTS in panel 2?????????!!!!! ****VOMIT****.
Please can we END this and go back to Les making stupid puns in class!!! Please Batiuk!!!! I promise not snark!!!!
Say, wasn’t Batslop once rejected for a job at a comic book company? That would explain this tedious and lame comic book arc. “BAAAWWWW! They won’t let me work for the comic book, so I’ll make my own. *pout*”
This boggles the mind…… Does Tom really draw a salary for this trite?
And “Alex” is dropped quicker then Fred’s daughter…..sorry I already forgot her name
Fred who?
Just come out already, Batiuk. If that fake letter we all saw this week can, so can you.
NTTAWTT
I wouldn’t worry so much about what keeps it “afloat” as with where’s the goddam atmosphere. Ol’ Petey has definitely become part of some sort of LSD sub-cult up there in New York. He’s trippin’ balls right now.
Isn’t the guy who draws Apartment 3-G in his 80’s? Wasn’t Bil Keane about that age until his son took over Family Circus full time? That means Batiuk could squeeze this sort of stuff out for another twenty years. By then it should just be stick figures grunting at each other.
I was disappointed that we’re back to Mopey Pete’s masturbatory fantasy, but then I realized that I hate all the other characters in this strip. So sure, why not a nonsensical joke about gravity?
Pete’s breasts are probably traced from Wonder Woman, then partially erased (I think).
What fake letter? The “Andrew” one?
“Look, a boring, stupid comic strip with no jokes that no one ever reads! I wonder what keeps it in syndication??”
(Complete silence)
OK, I get the panels about the gray almond flying toward the suggestive castle from the original Little Mermaid videotape case… but what’s the point of panel 2?
It says something about Pete when his fantasy buff muscular body looks more like a serious case of man boobs.
Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.
Yeah, Batiuk could easily pass this on and continue the pain ad infinitum. If it’s any consolation his son appears to be in broadcast journalism so maybe wouldn’t be inclined to follow this path, but Ayres (or as i’ve said before, John Byrne) could easily keep it going.
Was part of the problem with Lynn Johnston that her children didn’t want any part of the strip? If so KUDOS TO THEM.
I wonder if they need a “GPS”…let’s bring back that story line…
You enter the building sometime towards dusk, not certain what you’ll find, but wanting to get out of the madness and bustle of the crowds. You’ve known about the local tourist trap for years, but never really felt inclined to look. Until now. The admissions booth is empty. The plastic walls are cracked and cloudy. But the clock inside has the correct time! Someone must be on break.
“A wax museum?” you guess. At least, that’s what the droopy-faced, stiff-limbed, dust-coated figures -could- be, you suppose.
The dust is so thick you can’t even make out the color of the character beneath. Most of the velvet ropes surrounding the displays are moth-eaten and sun-bleached. Motes dance in the air, the entire room smells of dust, burnt cheese, and something sour but undefinable. Like a little, angry smirk would smell.
You notice the few figures in better condition have only a light coating of dust…and coin slots beneath. Curious, you drop a quarter into one. The ancient, ninety-something man in the weird cap lurches, the corners of his face cracking, his limbs making terrible grinding noises that they contort in what -could- be supposed to be some sort of deranged, sick dance.
“COMIC TARZ-….COMIC TARZ-…PIZZ-….COMIC TARZ,” the figure screams, in a voice that wavers somewhere between H.R. Pufnstuf and Gomer Pyle.
Shocked, disgusted, you back without looking and knock the droopiest-faced sadsack figure in the room over. His limbs shatter, his head bounces, landing with an appalling **CRACK** at your feet. His torso, some ancient mechanism grinding inside murmurs “LOR-…LATE….FLASH….FLASH….LOR-…LOR-….KOMIXckssssss….”
Something in you breaks. You dash for the door, only now noticing there was someone in the admissions booth after all. It’s a man you’ve never seen before in your life, but somehow, in that moment your eyes meet, you know that this man thinks the world of himself, thinks nothing of anything else, and is about to throw the HISSIEST hissy fit that ever hissed. His glasses gleam, his strangely obscene yellow shirt ripples, his salt and pepper beard distorting with rage. You throw the broken wax figure’s head at him and scream bloody murder, fleeing (you now realize) for your own dear life.
hom·age
[hom-ij, om-]
noun
1. respect or reverence paid or rendered: “In his speech he paid homage to Washington and Jefferson.”
2. a dumping ground for tired, dusty old gags and God-awful wordplay: “Batiuk’s homage was about as funny as wisdom tooth surgery.”
3. filler material, padding: “The comic strip author was completely out of ideas so he did one of those homages everyone hates.”
In the main, we hidebound literalists find nothing comical about this comic book within a comic strip.
Next!
So why exactly is Flash so angry in panel 2? Is it Pete’s idiocy?
The sad part is, Tom sees this sort of thing as whimsical, funny, and creative. I’m certain that his inner voice tells him that THIS proves those meanie bully jocks are wrong and his comic isn’t just a repetition of pointless gloom.
The problem is, as usual, he gives NOTHING to hook the reader in. Nothing for us to care about. Nothing to even justify these tangents. So MANY comics-related stories the past couple of years, but instead of teaching us why he loves them and encouraging us to share his love, all he’s made clear is that he likes things that are OLD, not in themselves, he just hates new things.
Bleah.