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Link to today’s strip, when it appears.

So, I asked recently if Les Moore has ever done anything, since his “chairmanship” of the Coming Reunion Committee seems to involve him handing his duties to other people.  Apparently, the answer is “no,” since we now learn that the one job he had to do–find a location–was not done.  In fact, I’m gathering it wasn’t even discussed.

Now, this is remarkably stupid, even for this comic strip.  I’ve never planned a reunion, but I’d think one of the first items on the agenda would be to decide on a location, since everything else kinda depends on that.   But Les didn’t think of that, and not one of the ninnies he was directing thought to ask.  Wow.

So Les is a FAILURE at scouting and selecting a location, and he’s a FAILURE at heading the Coming Reunion committee.  No wonder he doesn’t want to do anything, and moans when he has to.  He’s a FAILURE at everything he does.   He should have pointed this out to Cindy right from the start and saved them all the heartburn.

Speaking of heartburn, sigh, of course we know how this little episode will resolve itself–Funky will be gracious, and somewhere near the end of this week or the next, Funky will smugly proclaim, “We don’t call Montoni’s the Chapel of Reunions for nothing!” as the class of ’78 sits down to grease-laden pizza slices.   There are times when the strip is bafflingly unpredictable, and other times when you can see the denouement coming from miles away.

Anyway, I just wanted to point out that this is my 150th post on this blog.   (Hence the Latin numeral title.)  Good grief (as another well-known blockhead was wont to exclaim).  I’m not sure whether to celebrate or mourn, to be honest.   One hundred and fifty?  You blockhead!

As always, I thank you for your indulgence and your courtesy.  Tomorrow, the incomparable Epicus Doomus takes over; be prepared to be entertained as he regales you with tales that witness madness…while I ponder, weak and weary,  what my 151st post will bring, when next I resume the host’s chair.  Until then…pleasant…dreams?  Ha ha ha ha ha!

Dinner’s Surprising Reappearance

Link to today’s strip.

Okay, now yesterday I’m sure you were thinking, “BChasm says it’ll get worse.  How can it possibly get any worse than this?  It just isn’t possible.”  Well, there you go selling Tom Batiuk short–a mistake you’ll probably think twice before committing again!

And here, today, we finally have it–the entire reason for The Coming Reunion.  Once more bringing out Lisa’s battered corpse so that the whole enterprise can be The Les Moore Show, starring Les Moore, with Special Guest, Les Moore!  “Hey, Les, enough catching up.  Let’s talk about you and your feelings.”

This is truly nauseating.  The space that the slogan occupies on the poster implies that only two people have died from Les’ class (leaving out the fact that Lisa apparently wasn’t in Les’ class).  And so, let’s make sure that the proper one gets worshiped.  Livinia must NOT grab any attention!  I do like the little touch of Lisa herself helpfully pointing with her eyes just where the book should go, then beaming her approval at Mary Sue.   And isn’t it nice that Livinia won’t distract from Lisa by having her own book all about her how her spouse suffered and moaned.  Like the Highlander, there can be only one–even if that one went to a different high school, and graduated in a different year.  Every occasion is an opportunity for Les worshiping Les (assisted by Lisa).  But like the prior question repeatedly asked–why do they need to have a reunion, they see each other every day–there’s another question raised by today’s episode.

Why would Mary Sue Sweetwater need to leave a copy of “Lisa’s Story” for the “In Memoriam” display?

Everyone from Les’ class, as well as everyone else in town, already owns a copy.  They know the story, they are completely aware of it at all times, and they have allowed it to become the dominant narrative in their own lives.  Hey Bull, got turned down for that job?  Well, I got it worse–“Hollywood.”  “Oh, you’re right–Sacred Lisa was about to have her story commercialized.  I’m so sorry for you, Les.”

The Coming Reunion story has now fully grown from a silly story about too much nostalgia into a really creepy episode of self-worship.  (Hey, “Les Whipfors,” a new character.)

My mutant ability to see tomorrow’s Funky Winkerbean (worst X-Man power ever) ends at this point, so I have no idea if I should issue a warning about tomorrow or not…but considering the ride we’ve been on, I think it’s wise to be prepared.

By the way, if you want to see the full cover of “Murdering Les Moore for Dummies” it’s right here.   Before you ask, yes, the fonts are off as it was adapted from a similar book made years ago.  But hey, if Tom Batiuk can recycle things without a care, I guess I can too!

Lunch’s Unexpected Return

Link to today’s strip.

When I said yesterday, “It gets worse,” you probably thought, “How can it?”  Well, now you know.

Those of you with weak stomachs may want to stop with Les’ first dialogue balloon, in which Les gets someone else to do his work, again, this time quadrupling his own workload to nothing.  Has Les ever done anything?  It sure seems all he does is complain when things are expected of him, and then he moans and weeps until someone else does all the work.   Then he whines about how hard his life is, and, well, you know the rest.

If you’re brave enough to tackle the rest of the strip, let’s press on.  Les has never gotten over the loss of his first wife, and everyone, simply everyone, is completely aware of this and does whatever they can, at all times, to help him heal.   Because no one else in this world has ever lost a loved one.  No one else has ever suffered.  No one else bears the weight of the world like Les Moore.   (It’s no wonder that someone like Wally, who has suffered far more than Les, is a character the strip treats with thinly-veiled contempt.)

Lest you think me callous, I do understand that losing a loved one is a lifelong thing, and that those who’ve left us will always be in our memories.  But looking at Les’ sad, smashable face in panel two, you’d hardly think this was a guy who eventually married another woman, then wrote a comic book about how he’d found new love with his new wife.

Mary Sue’s phrase in panel two seems off to me–if I was sympathetic to Les, I’d say he still loves Lisa, and that’s why he remembers.  Oh well, Mary Sue is, after all, a girl, and they’re not much good for anything in this world, are they.  I’m surprised we didn’t get a third panel of Les patting her on the head and saying “Thank you for trying.”

There’s a phrase that describes Les Moore perfectly.  That phrase is “wallowing in self-pity.”  It’s the sort of thing that a normal person does for a time–possibly a long time–but then picks himself up and moves on.

But not Les Moore.  He’s going to make sure you’re always aware of him, and through this awareness, he’s going to make you suffer.

Oh, before I forget, when I said it “gets worse” yesterday, I left out one thing–it gets even worse tomorrow.

Breakfast’s Journey Back

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.

The Baffled King Composing Hallelujah

Link to today’s strip.

Okay…I’m going to take a wild stab here and guess that the “state of the ark” thing is supposed to be a joke about…Noah?  (Oooo, too bad last year’s film wasn’t a huge blockbuster–that would’ve helped, right?  Oooo, those year-long waits.)   As, I’m guessing again, the prior DJ’s equipment was commonly used in Biblical times–not at all conducive to repainting those  funky (oops) seventies vibes.  And all those lyrics about cubits!  No wonder the Reunion Committee ladies want something more contemporary (it’s a well known fact that, before building the ark, Noah was well known for hosting some serious raves, but that was, like, aeons ago.  You can read all about it in your Bibles.)

–Uh…huh.   Even I can’t find that premise easy to sustain, and I find it hard to believe anyone, Tom Batiuk included, would write that down and say There.  There’s the next strip.  Granted, he has given us many, many inexplicable punchlines over the years, but I seem to recall they kind of related to the subject at hand.  This one, not so much.  Unless the last DJ decided to forgo the turntables in favor of pottery shards, this is rather dim.

One thing, though–the fervor with which poor Barry is assailed makes me think that, yes, the high school does hold a reunion every year–and it’s the only thing going on in these folks’ lives.  They just go through their sad days, waiting for the magical date to show up, the reminder of when they were happy and the future was rosy.  And all they want is a decent DJ to help the illusion along.  And suddenly…I don’t think these reunion enthusiasts are idiots any longer.  I find them kind of sad, now, people longing after a happiness they’ll never have, fluttering along like a butterfly at the end of its lifespan, desperate not to die for a while longer.

Have I bummed you out?  If so, it’s good practice.  I’ve seen tomorrow, and tomorrow isn’t pretty.