Tag Archives: brushing up against trademark infringment

Shmucks in a row

Today’s strip begs the classic 5 Ws (and an H) of writing. It also begins the Oscars story Variety promised last month. Yeah, I thought that maybe if I buried the lede it would stay in the ground, but alas.

Who is Mason talking to on the left? Wait, he calls her Marianne… that’s supposed to be Marianne Winters? The lady with the pentagon head and the pigtail-bun hairstyle my niece insisted on wearing when she was a toddler is Marianne Winters?

What is with TB’s willingness to use Hulu and HBO’s trademarked names but still insist on sticking to the eyeroll-inducing “Netbusters”?

When does TB think the Academy Awards ceremony takes place? We’re three weeks out from this year’s Oscars broadcast… Does that mean? Oh no, please no. I really hope TB just got the dates wrong.

Where is the “chateau” where this “real party” is happening? Chateau Marmont? Haha, really? I guess if you don’t know… then you don’t know. I’m in no hurry to find out, either.

Why are Cliff Anger and Vera Nash here? Neither one was involved in the Lisa’s Story movie at all… well, other than inexplicably being at the film’s wrap party.

How is this story going to end? Insufferably, no doubt. I don’t think any other outcome is possible.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

It’s The Little Differences

Link To Today’s Fascinating Installment

Good ol’ McArnolds, known for Arnold McArnold, the Beef Thief, Mayor O’ Patty and of course Sneer, the big purple one. “I will have a One-Fourther with cheese, a Sea-O-Sandwich, some Belgian fries and a box of McArnoldland cookies, please”. Over ten billion bored witless. The “soda” vs. “pop” gag was pretty funny the first ten thousand times I heard it so the impact is somewhat dulled here for me, although it’ll surely resonate with the new (guffaw) generation of FW readers who didn’t read “Archie” back in the early 1970s like I did.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be as easily amused as Holly is? “WOW, the f*cking fire hydrants are painted YELLOW here!”…”The power lines are…are…they’re UNDERGROUND, man!”…”I can’t BELIEVE that place just sold me three handguns!!”…but alas, I’m from New Jersey thus way too cynical and jaded to be impressed by these trivial cultural differences. Just wait until they arrive in Florida and order themselves a cup of brown sugar bubble water with frozen water chunks and a sipping tube.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky