Yesterday Dinkle got around to thinking of a name for Bedside Manor’s band; today Batiuk deigns to ascribe a name to one of the musicians. What the author neglected to do was offer anything in the way of humor or plot development. Can you find the point to this strip? I can’t.
Tag: Bedside Manor
Dinkle All the Way
‘Twas the Sunday before Christmas, when most cartoonists use the larger, colorful Sunday format to confer Christmas greetings to the reader. But take away the snow and the trademark black yuletide greenery from today’s strip and it’s just another punny, unfunny day at Bedside Manor. What to call the “BM Band”? “Midlife Chryslers”? For one, y’all are well past “midlife”, and everyone knows that the “old people’s car” is Buick, not Chry…what’s that? The Midlife Chryslers is a real band? From Cleveland? Ah, I get it. Try again. “Cardiac kids”? Usually used to denote “kids” who could give you a heart attack, not those who are on their third or fourth. Well, how about a play on the name of an incurable eye disease? No? Well, then, let’s resort to a punchline that makes no sense.
Do maladroits dream of selective *bleep*?
Les – * There’s no DJ here. There’s no DJ here. There’s no DJ…
Cayla – Wake up, honey.
Les – * Hate Big Walnut Tech. Hate Big Walnut Tech. Hate Big Wal…
Cayla – Les. Les, dear, It’s Cayla, darling.
Les – Oh, Cayla, it’s… you.
Cayla – Yes, darling.
Bull – Hello, Les! Anybody home? I heard the you were distraught by the the big… well… you seem all right now.
Crazy Harry – Yes. He got quite a bump on the head. We kind of hoped… uh… thought there for a minute he was gonna leave us.
Donna – Oh.
Les – But I did leave you, Crazy. I came through the time pool. And then went back to our high school days.
Cayla – There, there, lie quiet now. You just had a bad dream.
Les – No.
Funky – Sure. Remember me, your old pal, Funky?
Les – Oh.
Holly – And me, Holly?
Cindy – You couldn’t forget my face, could you?
Les – No. But it wasn’t a dream. It was a time pool. And you, and you, and you, and you were there.
Barry – Oh!
Les – Not you Barry.
Cayla – Oh, we dream lots of silly things when we…
Les – No, Cayla, there was a real, functioning time pool. And I remember that there wasn’t much class… but mostly it was a reunion. But just the same, all I kept doing was wandering through the background listening to Cindy reveal her insecurities and Crazy plot to alter the present with a smartphone. Doesn’t anybody believe me?
Crazy Harry – Of course we believe you, Les. *wink*
Les – Oh, but anyway, Lis… uh Cayla, we’re here! Here! And this is the reunion – and you’re all here! And I’m not going to coordinate the reunion ever, ever again, because I loathe you all! And… oh, Cayla? There’s no one like Lisa!
Great Gig in the Sky
I’m a little late to today’s party and am as baffled as you at what’s happening here. But my first thought as I groggily read and re-read this was, are they all dead, and have been “reunited” in this weird nether-gym to face judgement? Or was Crazy Harry the DJ they hired (to spin frozen pizzas)?
Band of Old
“Nope, your Dad’s a terrible trombone player, Funky. But hey, d’you remember that back in January he was using a wheelchair to get around? Well, get a load of him now! Not only is ol’ Mort on his feet, but I’ve got him schlepping music stands!”
Son of Stuck Funky 
