Just three days into my turn to “make the donuts” around here and I’m ready to throw up my hands…or just throw up. What the hell is today’s strip about, aside from padding this pointless arc out to six, maybe seven days? “Read a book in the morning”? Please tell me he’s not talking about taking a dump. I suppose a retired person has opportunity to read just about whenever they feel like it. What about “in the morning” makes Harry cock his head like that and raise his eyebrows? Where is joke?
Tag: bricks
Not the Retiring Type
Nice to see Adeela again, wearing Montoni’s Red Apron of Shame and carrying what’s either a server book or that architect diploma she got from Westview Community College. Dinkle’s unnamed friend continues his musing about retirement. “Long days, short years” does work pretty well as a wry comeback, and we’ll start taking bets now whether Tom Batiuk uses that very same aphorism when and if he ever chooses to retire.
The part of the tablecloth is being played today by Pete’s shirt.
My Heroes Have Always Been Band Directors
Big ups to Epicus Doomus for the last two weeks of posts. In addition to crafting great posts and post titles, Epicus manages the guest author rotation and is my right hand man around here. Without him, there would be no SoSF.
In a rare bit of Funky fortuitousness, today’s strip involves alfresco dining, an activity that’s more popular right now than it’s ever been. What at first appears to be an old married couple in panel 1’s aerial perspective turns out to be Harry Dinkle and a friend. Judging from how non-generically the other gent is rendered here, he must also be a real-life friend of Batiuk and/or Ayers.
I donned my PPE and took a deep dive into the Act II archives for a refresher about the circumstances surrounding Dinkle’s “retirement.” Near the end of Act II, Becky Winkerbean, as she was known then, took over as band director when Dinkle was promoted to WHS’ music supervisor. His actual retirement happened “offscreen,” during the second 10 year time jump. Shortly thereafter, his beleaguered wife Harriet pleaded with, and possibly bribed, the school board president to install Harry as director of the performing arts center that bore his name, just to get him out of the house. It’s doubtful whether that director role entails hanging around the high school and basically serving as Becky’s co-band director. Look at him smirk in panel 3 at his friend’s quip. Harry Dinkle doesn’t know the meaning of retirement. No, seriously…he doesn’t know the meaning of retirement.
How to Make “Alien” More Terrifying
Seriously, can you imagine John Hurt going through all that agony, and out pops a little Les Moore? Which screams “Endings have to be earned!” before scooting off to hide in the ductwork? And it then confronts Harry Dean Stanton and says “I am the lord of language, and you are my acolytes!” The crew of the Nostromo would be screaming, “Please! Tear our brains out instead!”
“I guess some children were left behind!”
I mean, I get shivers just thinking about it! I’m going to leave the lights on tonight, but I don’t think I’ll ever go to sleep again!
Other than that, my God is Les being a little sh!t. Yes, I know he’s a douchebag deluxe (indeed, a douchebag supreme), but Mason is supposedly a friend. If someone were to treat me the way Les is treating Mason, I’d make my excuses and avoid that person. And of course, avoiding Les Moore is always a great strategy to employ.
On a serious note, Mr. Batiuk–when you’re offering a decidedly inferior product to your audience, it’s very unwise to remind them that there are superior entertainments out there that are much more worthy of their time.
Strike A Posey
My recollection of Jared Posey was that he was a moody smoker who had a good football arm. Crazy Harry was (was) an imaginative kid who was very outgoing and inventive. How Les draws a match between the two sure puzzles me. Oh, wait, I get it–they’re both written by Tom Batiuk, so continuity be damned. I’m thinking neither will be mentioned again this week, but Batiuk has a talent for baffling in the dullest way.
And there’s Frankie (presumably) trundling right along behind. I guess he didn’t pull into the Moore’s driveway and filch things. He just drove to the school, sat in his car, and is now following them again. What he hopes to gain by this course…well, who knows. It’s not like Les takes a different route to work every morning, to keep his enemies off-balance so they can’t track him. Hell, Frankie could have just bought a map and drawn a line down the most likely streets.
This is lazy writing at its laziest. By now, we should have had some hint of who this is and what he’s up to. Sure, we’re all thinking it’s Frankie, and it may be, but maybe it’s Jared, miffed at being “referred” (roofie’d?). Remember when Buck first showed up? I recall that it was a couple of weeks of him drawn from the back only, leading to much speculation about who might be returning to the cast.
“Don’t get your hopes up” is always wise advice with this strip.
Son of Stuck Funky 