Aaaaand once again, T-Bats pads out two panels worth of inaction to fill three days, finally getting around to telling us that Rachel and Wally are attending the concert to help him with his PTSD. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a storyteller with a worse sense of pacing.
While I’d say that I’m looking forward to seeing the concert (who would turn down a chance to see Mort ripping up Inna Godda Davida on the slidefart trombone?) there’s little chance of that. The intern who drew Mort’s dementia-induced Independence Day Sunday comic has weekdays off, and we all know how Tom hates drawing his characters doing anything but standing around talking.
I still can’t figure out what goes through T-Bats’ head when he coins a nonsense phrase or tries to force a new meaning onto a bit of the language. Does he think he’s so influential that his imagined meanings will sweep the language and the popular imagination? Does he look at his inked words and think to himself, “Yep. That sounds just like real life”? Or does he just kind of mindlessly parrot out phonemes that he thinks sound cool? He’s like an Engrish T-Shitsu Generator. Man, that is so nordic. Truly, I stand in line.