Author: TFHackett

Arty Party

Maddest of mad props to billytheskink for the last two weeks’ posting. Billy’s broad knowledge of FW canon is matched only by his skill with haiku.

Today we see Marianne Winters and Mason chatting on set…’scuse me…what? Oh! Sorry: it’s some other blue-black bobbed babe chatting up Darin at a kid’s party. “Jessica tells me you’re an artist.” There’s no need for Darin’s “self-defectating” response: she’s not impressed to meet a hotshot Hollywood storyboard ace, but rather, dismayed at having wasted money on a caricaturist when she could’ve pressed her party guest into service for free. This insult goes right over distracted Darin’s head: he’s regarding the sketch artist at work, and pondering things like “Why does his face look so weirdly specific? Why is a professional artist working with a yellow #2 school pencil? Why would a professional artist draw a professional artist working with a yellow #2 school pencil?”

Porous Another One

I’ve had so much fun doing this. It’s like being a little comic book company…I’m going back and I’m going to dip into some of the other characters I created in the fifth grade…I’m going to resurrect them and put them to good use in the strip. I’ll tell you about one. I have a character, The Amazing Mister Sponge…

Tom Batiuk, 2014

A superhero with a name like “The Amazing Mister Sponge” gives us a good idea why the “big” comic book companies gave the air to young Thomas Martin Batiuk. I do like the name “Killjoy” for a villainous evil clown; but I wouldn’t need “porifera vision” to discern a frowning clown with a gangsta teardrop tattoo, toting a huge rifle, to be a criminal.

Thinking caps on, chums...
Speaking of superheroes, the only person I’ve ever heard use “chum” as a form of address is Adam West’s Batman, may he rest in peace. The superhero theme allows Rick Burchett to work a little more in his element in the first two panels. But he’s taken some liberties with the bricks in panel 3–they’re not consistent at all–and he’s drawn Bernie to resemble a bespectacled 8-year-old.

So much for my two-week turn in the barrel! Tune in tomorrow when beckoningchasm takes over for a spell.

All the Old Dudes

Sucks about Bill, but I doubt his absence should have much effect on the Bedside Manorisms’ sound. In a rare instance of continuity, the BMs’ current lineup is the same one they had when we met them two years ago: “Gimme Oxygen” Carl on trumpet; “Cataract Walt” on clarinet; Iris, whom I am taking to be the drummer because for some reason I imagine a drummer’d be more likely than our unnamed violinist to smoke “medical” weed, who remains; and of course ol’  Mort “My Alzheimer’s is But a Distant Memory” Winkerbean on the trombone.

Iris is Irie

If Carl’s breathing apparatus in yesterday’s strip was some kind of sympathy ploy, it didn’t seem to help him sell any candy. Today Carl’s traded his nasal cannula for his horn, and is looking a little more chipper and a little less prone to drop dead at any second. Not only does that bastard Dinkle force them to peddle “Raisin’ the” bars to finance their CD, the Manorisms rehearsals have been known to last well past the typical nursing home bedtime. I don’t think medical marijuana is strictly legal yet in Ohio; in any case I think Iris and the boys would need something a little stronger to put up with Dinkle.