Ann Apple Sunday Keeps The COVID Away

Link To The Sunday Hilarity

It took me a moment or two, but then I remembered. Sigh…I remembered. In case you weren’t around for THAT whole thing, Ann Apple is Les f*cking Moore’s literary agent, who was instrumental in getting Les’ various masterpieces published. At first, I was so stunned by her inexplicable return that I failed to realize this is supposed to be another pandemic-centric strip. He’s always had that sort of weird like/dislike take on NYC, but why he chose to go there now is anyone’s guess. This is as random as it gets.

Hopefully he stays the hell away from New Jersey, though, as I guarantee he’s one of those guys who does 55 in the left lane, and we really, really hate those people here. And on that note, everyone slide over, we have new SoSF blood coming in! Stay tuned for a brand new SoSF guest host! Check in tomorrow to find out who!

March Badness

Link To This One

Everyone hates it when BatHack tries to do Act I humor in Act III. Dinkle being a megalomaniac was hilarious way back in Act I, when the strip was a cynical, satirical look at a fictional suburban high school. But it isn’t anymore, thus Harry and his irritating pal just come across as selfish, vindictive jerks who browbeat the entire school district to suit their own needs. But you already knew that. Now let us never, ever speak of Dinkle or this Andy clown again.

In The Ptomaine

Link

The laziest gag of 2022 so far? Maybe. The laziest gag in FW history? Could be. The dumbest comic strip gag you’ll ever see? Oh…no freaking doubt.

“I’m fresh out of Dinkle ideas again. Hmmmm, let’s see. Oh! Holtron! That’s a beloved character from the past too! Maybe (heh heh) Dinkle could persuade Holtron to (chuckle) order band turkeys! Off-screen, of course, but still! I’d better write this down so I don’t forget it!”

Shudder. I mean, man, there’s the bottom of the barrel, the ground underneath the barrel, the decaying organic matter under the surface, some clay, slime and ooze, then there’s this gag, sitting there stupidly grinning at you like some sort of hideous slug that’s too disgusting to bother stepping on.

Hey! Art Teacher! Leave Them Kids Alone!

Link To Today’s

Ha, ha ha! He’s screwing with the students’ educations and undermining his fellow faculty members! Just to suit his own needs! Isn’t that HILARIOUS? Comedy f*cking gold right there, folks! What a guy! No wonder eleven or twelve Ohioian band directors love Dinkle and tape these Dinkle strips to the side of their office filing cabinets! Haphazardly, too, no doubt. Then, after they inevitably retire, those same strips are scraped away with a razor knife and become more floor sweepings, quickly forgotten floor sweepings. It’s kind of sad, really.

I’d give just about anything if this arc would just abruptly stop and suddenly go into, I don’t know, a few strips where Funky works out or Holly uses the credit card or something. Anything. Dinkle being felled by a massive coronary would be good too, but then there’d be a flashback-packed funeral arc that’d drag on for weeks, and no one wants that. And as we all know, it wouldn’t necessarily mean he was really, permanently dead, as people return from the dead all the time in the Funkyverse. So really there’s just no practical way to get rid of him, ever. BatHam likes him and he’s going to feature him twelve weeks every year whether we like it or not.

Just Holtron To What We’ve Got

Link To The Thing

Why, back when I first started here at SoSF it was really tough to defend my turf, I’ll tell you what. That was back before the internet, when SoSF was still hand-drawn on notebook paper and passed around via the comic strip underground scene. I knew what levers to pull, though, as right after I gave TF Hackett that $20 Wawa gift card, I was in. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Yeah, yeah, Dinkle rigged the school computer to “fix” the students’ schedule to his benefit and so forth. He really was quite a character fifty years ago. Unfortunately, though, everyone hates Act III Dinkle, and everyone grew tired of his ancient marching band gags by 1983 or thereabouts. So where does that leave us? Sigh…right here.