Author: beckoningchasm

You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth?

Link to today’s strip.

Well, I have to say that Holly in panel three is a sight for sore eyes.  Finally, someone moved to exhibit an emotion, and it isn’t abject despair!  This has got to be a Funky Winkerbean first.  Even Funky didn’t approach this level of anger when he learned that Cory stole the Lisa’s Legacy funds.    The force of her rage has actually flattened Cory’s head!  Well done, well done, Mr. Batiuk!

It now pains me to point out that the sentence structure sure suffers by comparison.  For one thing, Holly was vacuuming, not sweeping–and there is a difference.  “Cleaning” would work in this case.  But the third panel really shouldn’t be a question, based on the content of the first two panels.  Panel two should have been “When I noticed something…” which could easily fit the available space in that word-balloon and wouldn’t make the final panel seem so awkwardly put together.

I guess the least aspect of this episode is the idea behind it.  Holly collected the comics for Cory and gave them to him.  That’s the end of the matter; he’s free to do with them as he pleases.   I guess in the Author’s mind, a gift isn’t just a gift, it’s an actual aspect of the giver, and thus must be treasured forever as that aspect instead of being appreciated as an object with its own function.  Thus, selling the gift is a terrible, terrible insult.

(I guess.  In my mind, I have an amusing picture of Tom Batiuk in high school, and a “friend” of his finishes a candy bad, then hands the wrapper to Young Batiuk.  “Tom…I want you to have this,” he says, trying to hold back the laughter.  “It…it meant a lot to me.”  At home, Young Batiuk has whole shoe-boxes filled with candy wrappers et al which he would never consider parting with.)

Well, at least we got a classic face out of today’s episode.  It’s the best thing I’ve seen in this strip since…well, it has been a while, let me just say that.

The First Monday in November

Link to today’s strip.

Cue the shrieking violins from Bernard Herrmann’s Psycho score.

In a town where calamity awaits around every corner, what exactly did Holly expect would happen?  Did she really expect that Cory would appreciate all the “effort” she put into completing his collection?  I seem to recall a lot of commentators here saying that Cory’s reaction would be, “Thanks a lot, mom, but I’m not into comics anymore.”

I do have to say it’s kind of clever how Holly discovered the empty box.  A full box would not have moved from a simple bump, but an empty one slides easily.  I wonder if she’ll call the police?  That would make sense, but “making sense” is seldom on the menu here.

Anyway, it’s a week of comic books!  Again!   What is it about comic books?  I mean, there are things that I like, things I enjoy, but I don’t wallow in them 24/7, nor do I push them into every context in which I find myself.  There’s nothing wrong with enjoying something, but to base your whole life around it seems like going way overboard.

But I guess extremism in the cause of comic books is no vice.  Or something.

The Lights In The Sky Are Stars

Link to today’s strip.

This could be kind of sweet, if we liked these characters even slightly.  Since they have been deliberately fashioned to be as unlikable as possible, instead this is just three panels of wasted space.

It’s interesting how the viewpoint shifts–in panel one, Les starts with “I’m,” meaning he (as usual) only cares about his own feelings.  In panel three, Cayla goes for the “We’ll,” somehow hoping to include herself.  Does she really think she’ll ever be included in Les’ world?

I can’t really think of anything else to say about this one, so on to the comment section wi’ ye!

Chips Ahoy

Link to today’s strip.

Well, it’s the same dim-witted word-play, the same squinty eyes, the same smirks all around.  Everyone looks both miserable and punchable as always.   Or, as it’s usually known around here, “Friday.”

I confess – I wrote the above paragraph before I’d even seen the strip.  I figure it’s a good guess.  We’ve had four days of “Lisa’s favorite tree must be culled” and when the Glorious Author has a Lisa Fetish, that’s an itch that just can’t be scratched away in a strip or two.   That Pulitzer nomination must just gnaw at Tom Batiuk night and day, all seasons of the year, every waking moment.   That’s the lure of the established awards culture.

You know what made me re-think the entire “Awards Have Meaning” thing?  The 1979 Grammy Awards.  The nominees for “Best New Artist” were Chris Rea, The Cars, Elvis Costello, Toto, and A Taste of Honey.  Look at those names, and look at their careers.   Costello, the Cars and Toto went on to have big hits, become household names, and influence millions of bands and record buyers.  And the winner that year was…A Taste Of Honey, a disco band that had one hit and went nowhere afterward.

My point is this–you killed off Lisa so you could get an award.  It didn’t happen.  Acknowledge this and move on.  A Taste of Honey still has their award, but Elvis Costello wrote, and continues to write, great songs that will speak forever.  Both Toto and the Cars made hits that you can find on the radio every day of the year.

You could give it a shot, Mr. Batiuk.  Throw the past away.  Shred that letter from the Pulitzer committee.  Move on.

And, if you’re going to move on, please kill Les Moore.  Your fans would love that.  A LOT.  I mean, it would require re-tooling the strip into something positive, but then…are you Toto, or A Taste of Honey?  Because that’s the real question.