Atop Demerit Hill

Friday’s strip careens substantially more than ¼ inch from reality. There doesn’t seem to be any readily Googleable analogue to this situation here in reality prime. Using Google is all the effort I’ll put into this; it’s already more than Batominc puts into these plot lines. The Batominc plan is even simpler than that of the South Park gnomes.

  1. Draw some comics about a well-known social issue.
  2. Pulitzer!

We learned yesterday that “digital” shows Cindy’s age, in the words of her boss Dick “Baldy” McLitigationmagnet. This arc is turning out to be a perfect storm of things Batominc knows nothing about. Digital TV doesn’t have to be HD; I’m sure Cindy looks ravishing in SD 480i. Or at least vague and fuzzy. And current ABC News anchor Diane Sawyer is 68 years young.

As a member of the dominant boomer generation, Batominc’s stockholder ought to know that, as that generation ages while life expectancy increases, its attitudes about the visible signifiers of age are evolving. But that would require him to have his finger on the pulse of society. And there’s one thing about pulses: you can’t feel them from ¼ inch away. You have to actually touch the patient.

Batominc is bad at social observation, OK. Now, to be fair, he’s also bad at drawing his own characters. Or did Cindy get a sudden massive wrinkle in the milliseconds between panels 2 and 3?

Where’s That Confounded Pulitzer?

Wednesday’s strip has the big reveal of the reason for this arc: Batominc’s Pulitzer-trolling issue du jour: age discrimination in TV news.

It’s unclear now why Cindy was drinking in a hotel bar. Is she freshly back from an assignment? Unclear.

It’s unclear how much time has passed between yesterday’s scene and today’s. It’s unclear how Batominc will bring a fresh perspective to the issue at hand. I mean, the Google search for scholarly articles on the subject of age discrimination in media has ¾ million results.

But there’s got to be a Pulitzer in here this time, right? Right?

Great Googly Gazing Galileo (not Finito Binito)

Tuesday’s strip continues with the worst pickup artist. It also drops the actual name of an actual television network. Can the cease-and-desist letter addressed to Medina, OH be far behind?

Today’s affront to continuity supersedes yesterday’s affront to proportion, as the glassware inexplicably changes to a normal size. Either that, or the 60-minute interval of miniaturization effect has expired.

As Cindy’s comma eyes glance sidelong at “Gazing Galileo”—a phrase I’ve never before encountered in any context—I’m grateful that, for a change, Batominc didn’t misspell the name of a historical Italian.

You know what bartenders love? When you wave a payment method at them. In a dead-quiet bar. Maybe next time Cindy should wave a fan of crumpled singles and yell: “Yo! Barkeep!” Because that’s how “savvy dames” behave. Although maybe Batominc categorizes Cindy as hardbitten rather than savvy. It’s not easy for me to crawl into his weird conception of women.

On the plus side, this week’s action has been taking place in a bar. I like bars and what bars are selling.

The Good, the Tiny, and the Sleazy

A new scene abruptly flash-cuts into view, as last week’s Starbuck Jones arc is abandoned once again. A bar, much too nice to be in Westview, and much too soulless to be anything but a hotel bar. I have to hand it to Batominc: he has mastered soullessness. And vast expanses of squiggly lines.

But of course, proportions always go haywire. Witness panel 3, where pint glasses look more like salt & pepper shakers, Cindy nurses a stemware shot glass of wine, and Smirky McSleazy’s old-fashioned glass also seems to have been provisioned by the CMDF.

And the dialogue—oh my!—the dialogue makes me want to invent a time machine so I can go back and dissuade the inventor of narrative fiction. Let’s see if we can make improvements.

First draft

Smirky McSleazy: Nice shoes. Wanna boink?

Second draft

Smirky McSleazy: Are you an interior decorator? Because when you entered the room, it became more beautiful.

Third draft

Smirky McSleazy: Did you bathe in sugar? Because you sure look sweet.

Nope. Going nowhere. I’ll be in the lab, working on that time machine. We’ll be better off without literature.