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?
Author: TFHackett
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.
All Strung Out on Heroine
If nothing else, today’s strip sheds a little light on why Mason struck out with those guys at Mixmaster: it was their “practice pitch.” Because there are no other ways to rehearse and refine an important presentation that don’t involve humiliating yourself and wasting other people’s time. Mason compounds his folly by daring to smirk at the mention of St. Lisa, and draws a withering rebuke from Les. A cancer superhero? How dare you, sir! What twisted mind would ever even conceive of such a thing?
March 4, 2007:
July 1, 2007:
Dos de Mayo
This week has been has consisted of nothing but these two poorly drawn, hipster jerkoffs disrespecting Les and his cancer saga. Les and Mason meekly just sit there and take it, and in the process demonstrate that the Clone Brothers are absolutely correct that nobody needs this kind of “entertainment,” especially right now. Way to “pitch,” fellas. Tom Batiuk and the formerly capable, now indifferent draughtsman Chuck Ayers somehow get paid for dragging this crap out, but I do not…I’ve spent all the disdain I can muster for this horrible week of strips. Hopefully Sunday will be a one-off that will be worth getting into a froth about. In the meantime, dear readers, please have at it. Thank you for reading and commenting and for sharing the pain.
Son of Stuck Funky 