Just three days into my turn to “make the donuts” around here and I’m ready to throw up my hands…or just throw up. What the hell is today’s strip about, aside from padding this pointless arc out to six, maybe seven days? “Read a book in the morning”? Please tell me he’s not talking about taking a dump. I suppose a retired person has opportunity to read just about whenever they feel like it. What about “in the morning” makes Harry cock his head like that and raise his eyebrows? Where is joke?
Month: June 2020
Not the Retiring Type
Nice to see Adeela again, wearing Montoni’s Red Apron of Shame and carrying what’s either a server book or that architect diploma she got from Westview Community College. Dinkle’s unnamed friend continues his musing about retirement. “Long days, short years” does work pretty well as a wry comeback, and we’ll start taking bets now whether Tom Batiuk uses that very same aphorism when and if he ever chooses to retire.
The part of the tablecloth is being played today by Pete’s shirt.
My Heroes Have Always Been Band Directors
Big ups to Epicus Doomus for the last two weeks of posts. In addition to crafting great posts and post titles, Epicus manages the guest author rotation and is my right hand man around here. Without him, there would be no SoSF.
In a rare bit of Funky fortuitousness, today’s strip involves alfresco dining, an activity that’s more popular right now than it’s ever been. What at first appears to be an old married couple in panel 1’s aerial perspective turns out to be Harry Dinkle and a friend. Judging from how non-generically the other gent is rendered here, he must also be a real-life friend of Batiuk and/or Ayers.
I donned my PPE and took a deep dive into the Act II archives for a refresher about the circumstances surrounding Dinkle’s “retirement.” Near the end of Act II, Becky Winkerbean, as she was known then, took over as band director when Dinkle was promoted to WHS’ music supervisor. His actual retirement happened “offscreen,” during the second 10 year time jump. Shortly thereafter, his beleaguered wife Harriet pleaded with, and possibly bribed, the school board president to install Harry as director of the performing arts center that bore his name, just to get him out of the house. It’s doubtful whether that director role entails hanging around the high school and basically serving as Becky’s co-band director. Look at him smirk in panel 3 at his friend’s quip. Harry Dinkle doesn’t know the meaning of retirement. No, seriously…he doesn’t know the meaning of retirement.
Bored In Least L.A.
There’s just something about the mid-central Ohio area. The third-rate pizzerias, the comic book mills, the torrential downpours and never-ending blizzards, the incompetent medical care, porch swings and gazebos, the apathetic students and faculty, the death and amputations…Les looks at all of this and sees home. One again BatHam demonstrates his eternal enmity toward Hollywood, as he’s never going to let that failed “Crankshaft” project go. Everything there is awful, impractical and fake and the people are all vapid materialistic phonies, unlike the bottomless well of saintly pious martyrs who call Westview home. He’s just never, ever going to get over being rejected, the guy carries a grudge like it’s herpes or something.
Thanks for all the wry banter over the last two weeks, gang! Stay tuned for El Presidente himself, TFHackett!
Inside The Assholes Studio
Yeah yeah yeah. Even the nicest Hollywood movie stars are vapid phonies who exchange air kisses and “do lunch”. Point made…and made…and made…and made…and made yet again. At least Dick Facey finally approves of something, albeit in that annoying non-committal way of his. My God do I need a Les break, the guy just wears on you like a rock in your shoe. A smug bearded rock. There were five named characters in this arc and not one of them is even remotely likeable in any way whatsoever. Even Cassidy is getting on my nerves right now.
Son of Stuck Funky 