Bu(zzzzz)Kill

Link To Today’s Strip

He’s back: The Delicate Genius, the paragon of integrity and virtue, the defender of the Gospel According to Lisa, the man who has the courage and conviction to see right through the perverse decadence and evil greed that rules “Hollywood” and the twisted freaks that dwell within. That’s right, the smug, annoying dick with ears himself, Les f*cking Moore, along with his trusty imaginary sidekick, Anxiety Cat!

In this installment of “Les Writes The Same Story Again And Again And Again”, it seems that Clay Wallace, noted Hollywood scumbag, has concerns about Les’ shitty script. So he’s postponing the “pilot” and doing a “table read” instead, which makes no sense at all unless you’re a bad comic strip writer trying to toss around “show-biz” lingo, in which case it’s perfectly logical. Maybe they’re turning the cancer book into a series now, where another shoe will drop each and every week.

(“Previously on Lisa’s Story”:……..”Is she….???? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”)

And look at TheAuthor trying to work that ridiculous cat into the story again. Les’ imaginary friend means he’s about to suffer once again from the intense angst and self-loathing that comes with the territory for a profoundly gifted “writer” like him. He has no problem with dropping one of his dry little sarcasm bombs on his boss like a big wiseass but when it comes to plying his trade for money he starts simpering in the corner again, all worried about the universe conspiring against him and so forth. He’s just so incredibly insufferable. Look at him there in panel three with that smug obnoxious look on his face, who can look at that panel and not think about killing the guy? What a dick.

Wally Oop

Sunday’s strip is a rare denouement, which I don’t think is in the Batominc employee handbook glossary. And look at the abs on Wally!

Rachel, apparently, awoke one day from uneasy dreams to find herself transformed into a blonde. That transformation appears to be permanent. Rachel has always been blonde. The Ministry of Truth is, no doubt, busy “correcting” the miscolored representations of her that may have appeared in the past. We have always had a blonde Rachel, just as we have always been at war with Oceania, because shut up!

There’s just one thing I don’t understand. They’re openly discussing their shared happiness in the open, without a lead ceiling or even an iron coconut to shield their thoughts from the malevolent Universe.

Oh, wait! Now I get it! “The Universe” is a local malevolent entity that terrorizes Westview and calls itself “The Universe” to assuage its crippling inferiority complex.

Stay in Nondescript Tropical Beach, Wally, Blonde Rachel Character Unit, and Buddy! Stay away from Westview, now, and forever!


Here endeth my stint as your guest snarker. Epicus Doomus is up next, with my sympathies. Let’s just say that less is more, if you receive my meaning.

Do They? Do They Really?

Today’s strip portrays the exchange of “I dos” at Montoni’s, because of course they ended up at Montoni’s, the only reliable social venue in the wretched town of Westview.

I promised you a non-sequitur, and Funky delivers it. His bad Winkerbean vibes having dissipated, and with a smirk that shifts his mouth half way to his left temple, Funky opines: “They don’t call Montoni’s ‘the wedding chapel of love’ for nothing!”

Never mind that he just subverted Wally’s wedding to do a promo for his business. They don’t call Montoni’s “the wedding chapel of love” at all. Also, how does that not dislocate his jaw?

Meanwhile, the weeping chef in the background is playing the old “I’m crushing your head” game.

I crush your head, then I cry!
I crush your head, then I cry!

Meanwhile, some random boy has been hanging around with Funky during the entire sequence.

A smirk and a random kid.
A smirk and a random kid.

Who is this kid? It hardly matters, as I expect Batominc will send him to the Corn Field of Discarded Characters, just like all these others that Epicus Doomus so kindly enumerated for us recently:

Frankie, Lennie, the gay prom dudes, Art Teacher, Jarod Posey, Dr. Patella, Radio Ron, Closeted Gay Prom Rock, Mallory the Perfect Human Genome, Rachel’s kid, Kili the cat and that annoying Dan guy, Cell Phone Girl, that tall blonde girl that was always on whatever team Summer was playing against, Travel Agency Woman, Plantman…

CRAAAACK heads

With a mighty CRAAAACK!, the Universe lets the assembled witnesses know exactly what Its objections are to this union—hey! Wait a minute!

All the guests are gone, delivering the inexplicable continuity failure I promised you. The director forgot to have the congregation congregate for the big lightning scene. Because it doesn’t make a lick of sense for the two principals and the officiant to hang out in the rain alone. No human beings would do that. I guess the Batominc Quarter-Inch Reality Generator Mark 4 is on the fritz again, because it really shanked the plot on this daily basis.

The Blonde Rachel Character Unit fails to see “any reason to leave now.” Yeah, well, I’ve got about a dozen, not counting the inclement weather, and—dollars to doughnuts, cancer to Alzheimer’s—they’re huddling at Montoni’s, wondering where the hell these clownbots are.

You’ll see.

Bumbershoots in testudo

Let’s continue the litany, shall we?

with ten guests, or only seven;
with illness chronic or acute;
with thick crust or with thin;
with corners poppèd or unpopp’d;
if you will or if you won’t;
if you do or if you don’t;
da, da, da
ich lieb’ dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht,
aha
ich lieb’ dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht,
da, da, da

Looks like some of the guests have already bailed on this event, and I don’t find that ironic. Not at all.