So, the evil internet, with its Twitter Tots, Internuts and beady eyed nitpickers has come to the rescue of the Bedside Manor oldsters? I wonder what changed in Tom Batiuk’s worldview, to admit that the internet actually has some use… No, not really–actually, I wonder how we’re going to be shown what didn’t change, as we watch the oldsters fall victim to web hucksterism, and see their accrued cash disappear into some bitcoin Hell, along with their crushed dreams of release from Dinkle. Dinkle, of course, will be there, smirking to beat the band (yes, that’s intentional) and telling them how he knew this was going to happen. But while he is a god of wrath, he can be merciful. All they have to do is put themselves back into his hands. There’s still time to sell band candy, he’ll purr.
…you know, I may have been doing this Funky Winkerbean commentary thing way too long. The idea of something genuinely positive happening to someone other than Les Moore–that idea seems to automatically reject itself. The fact that it was the oldsters themselves who came up with this scheme, and NOT Harry Dinkle, seems to doubly condemn the oldsters to the sourest of outcomes.
I honestly had no idea that cynicism, by which I mean my cynicism, could be this deep, and this broad. It’s no wonder I paint nothing but skulls, lately.
Speaking of which, does anyone know who “Connie” is? I assume she’s the drummer, but I get lost when the characters here are only named when medical emergencies prevent them from doing their due Dinkle diligence. I do know one of them is named Carl, but only because he was a wuss and nearly died.
Oh, well…at least Tom Batiuk ended this one in two frames, because it looks like Mort/Violin player are starting to get a bit randy in panel two, and that’s rather more than I need to see. It doesn’t help with the cynicism thing at all.