If This Made Any Sense At All I'd Call It Retconning

My head asploded as I attempted to summarize today’s strip.  At first I was as confused as hell because I thought the sepia-toned flashbacks were hearkening back to Les’s college years except for the fact:

1. He still looks in his 40s.

2. He still has that now retcon-yellow yellow shirt.

Then I realized that Les is getting all sentimental and reminiscing about something that happened literally *yesterday*.   The problem is, does his reference to “planning my getaway” refer to when he wanted to leave Kent State as a college student after he graduated or is he referring to want to leave yesterday?  ‘Cause if it’s the latter, hey, Einstein, get in your car and drive 90 miles to home.

One last thought: please, God, I don’t ever want to see that Panel 2 expression on Les again unless I can see where his hands are.

"*Zzz–onk* umm…sorry, did you say something?

It just occurred to me; has Summer been sitting on the other side of the porch since Sunday, listening to her dad blather on instead of cooking dinner?  It looks like Cayla has nodded off;  can we blame her?  I nearly fell asleep just trying to think of a snark for today! The selection of man-meat in Westview must be dreadful if Cayla sees this Walking Snorefest as marryin’ material.

Heart-Les

Oh, if only he had gone! Because nothing impresses an ex-writing professor like a overly-wrought 700 page vanity press turkey about someone dying of cancer.  Move over, Morrie; there’s a new dying person in town and her name is Lisa!  She was a lawyer and she… liked leaves and sitting on a bench and…umm…

How is this a sensational book-soon-to-be-movie again?

It's summer, and the smell of bullshit is wafting in the air…

For a comic that treats its readers to dirigible-sized word balloons with entire short stories in them some days, this strip certainly is lacking some details.  I know we needed room for that sideways smirk close up but Backache, please!   Unless Les was smoking massive amounts of pot and turning in pages of writing journals full of nothing but AC/DC RULES!!! scrawled all over it I fail to see how this dreaming warrior-poet could fail creative writing and be told he’d never be a writer.

I pity the poor Prof that actually did teach Tom Batiuk creative writing back at Kent State– he’s now drawn the ire of a Pulitzer prize winning cartoonist-writer!