Month: July 2014

Out of My Brain on the #115

You’d think the comic book seller would make a little more of an effort to run after a prospective sale. You’d think that he’d keep #115, “the rarest of the run,” in a protective slab instead of (misfiled!) in a bin for conventioneers to paw through. You’d think that by now I’d have stopped looking for logic within the panels of a Funky Winkerbean comic.

Comic-Conjoined

The three amigos check in at what looks like the San Diego Marriott Marquis & Marina, already decked out their Comic-Con attire: John’s exchanged his customary black t-shirt with a Batman logo for a black t-shirt with an even bigger Batman logo, Crazy Harry wears a Jedi outfit, and Holly has gotten out the fabric marker to make her own Komix Korner pink t-shirt; all three are sporting their smirkiest smirks.

Batom Comics VS Reality

TB pivots from an industry about which he clearly knows little, to one that he professes to understand well…and still gets it wrong. Anyone who’s worked in or around the print industry knows that if a printer fucks up the job , he eats it; he re-runs the whole job at his own expense, not charging the client for a “correction run.”  Meanwhile TB amuses himself, if no one else, by name-dropping himself, and (mis-)quoting his Crankshaft strip from a month ago.

Reneger Please

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June 30, 2014 at 11:47 am
“If you take their money, it’s their turn to tell the story”. Michael Connelly on asking whether it bothered him about the changes that occurred when his novel Blood Work was adapted to a movie.

I think it was a polite way of saying “I cried all the way to the bank”.

If this is not Les at his most pathetic and unlikable, then I don’t want to be around when he finally sinks to that nadir. When he insisted on writing his screenplay, his agent clearly informed him that the studio would likely rewrite it. “Hollywood” sent him a huge check and then patiently waited a year while Les struggled to turn in a screenplay. They flew him (and his imaginary cat) to Hollywood, booked him a fancy hotel room, and fed him tandoori chicken. Feeling thus “betrayed” and alone, Les calls Cayla back in Ohio. But rather than depict honest human conversation between husband and wife (during which maybe Cayla tells Les to get over himself), Batiuk treats us to another obscure comic “tribute’ which equates Les’ Hollywood experience with being dropped into a pit of vipers. My favorite part is how Cowboy Les, even in this dire predicament, still has this “why me?” look on his face.

The original (more colorful) Rawhide Kid cover

Rawhide Kid on Wikipedia