It gets increasingly difficult to bother with the content of this strip. I think I spent more time writing that sentence than Tom Batiuk spent on the last month’s worth of strips. The strip above…I can’t in all honesty say that it was written at all. He overheard some five-year-old’s joke in the comic book store, and thought I can put that in the strip. Doesn’t matter where. It’s a space filler, a time waster, one more step toward that magical 50th anniversary when we can all go home. At least he knew enough not to make it a Sunday strip.
The other content is what makes today’s entry utterly pathetic. You just know that never in the last five years has Tom Batiuk worked himself into weariness like these two. That he would extol such dedication while avoiding it himself is one of the things that makes this strip so terrible.
That and the artwork. Seriously, this crap is just dismal. Pete in particular looks like he was drawn by a drunk with two broken hands, riding on a freight train in 1934 in the middle of major earth tremors. Panel three is an excellent illustration of “quality control” since you can see what you get when it is entirely absent.