Oh, Tony, how we missed you. You were gone for so long we’d forgotten about you completely, only to have you pop up when it’s least expected and with all that’s going on in Westview lately, a rather inopportune time. You’re like a herpes. It’s gone, no, wait, never mind. It’s back.
Still, time jumps have been kind to the man, as today’s strip shows. He doesn’t even need glasses to read whatever week’s worth of gags he’s written down to unload on us like yesterday’s stale breadsticks.
HAnzMFG here, looking at today’s strip, and wondering: Does Tom Batiuk ever actually read aloud what he writes for dialog? Does it really count as a pun if you just slowly spell out a homophone? If an inoffensive “joke” is uttered in an old guy’s apartment and nobody smirks at it, was it even told?
Alas, we don’t even know if the cops have been called. Cindy happily introduces herself as if nothing’s unusual about harassing and entering an old man’s apartment via window after initially being denied entry at the front door.
But thank you, Cindy, for at last cutting to the chase, and sparing the long story of Buddyblogs and fading beauty and absurd discriminatory workplace firings. We’re here for what’s really important: the story of an old B-movie actor, who is possibly going to be press-ganged into Stan Lee-ing in an equally bad remake. Excelsior!
“I…D…L…E…?”…
Link to today’s strip.
You can’t say I didn’t warn you.
You could concentrate on panel one, where Les has off-loaded yet another job to someone else, doubling his contribution of nothing. Barry looks positively Cory-esque (old school Cory) as he plots some kind of photo-related mayhem.
If you choose to go on to panels two and three, you have just saved a lot of money on an emetic. Oh, poor, poor, poor Les, always and everywhere to be reminded of his sad loss–a loss that happened well over eighteen years ago, and, after said eighteen years, he–uh, remarried. Whoops!
A couple days ago I said I wanted to slap Les. Strips like these make me want to bury an axe in his skull.
It also drives home the occasionally floated idea that Les’ marriage to Cayla was simply Tom Batiuk trying to get some awards. There is clearly no affection between the Les and Cayla; they’re together only because Mr. Batiuk wanted to be thought of as “with-it” and “hep.” When that (and the nominations) failed to materialize, Cayla pretty much disappeared as a character. Last time she did anything was getting all flustered at the thought of Mason Jarr the Movie Actor coming for a visit. She usually just stands there and beams at her prize man…while he, of course, only has eyes for Lisa.
The shadow of Les hangs over every moment in Westview. If Tom Batiuk had a month-long story arc in which Les was murdered, I’d cheer. And the strip would improve greatly–not having to play second fiddle to Les, the other characters would finally start to shine in their own light and the strip would become interesting again.
Naturally, that will never happen. Which reminds me….
Remember how I implied, “It gets worse” yesterday? Well guess what–tomorrow, it gets worse.
I wasn’t able to Lewis and Clark today’s strip for ya.
Ban Tom Inc., the undisputed master of dropping stories, taking inexplicable breaks then going back to the old story again later, picks up Pete’s “Mister Sponge” comic arc with the issue already published and ready for sale. That sure was fast. And our old pal Owen now represents the army of devoted comic book dorks exploding in outrage over TAMS’ outrageous plot twist (the death of Absorbine Jr. or whatever it was), the very same comic book dorks Bantom was mocking just a few short weeks ago. So, should we be chuckling (ha) at his daffy comic book fan antics or should we be mocking him for being such a huge nerd? Is that way too much thought to be putting into the latest installment of Ban Tom’s ever-expanding list of fictional titles within a fictional title?
“Hot off the rack”. So is there some sort of comic book protocol that dictates that a new comic book must be placed in a comic book rack by a trained comic book professional before it can be sold to a comic book fan? Or is it like a regional thing, like how you can buy fireworks in Pennsylvania but only if you’re from out of state? I know, I know, too much thought again.
Son of Stuck Funky 