Bull – Page 36 – Son of Stuck Funky

Reunion City Blues

So let’s take a moment to recap this idiotic reunion arc. Cindy usually organizes the reunion, but she can’t this year, so she inexplicably gives Les the job. At no point does she specify “anywhere but the gym”. Les meets with the rest of the reunion committee and they spend the entire meeting fooling around with that stupid cancer book. At no time does anyone on the committee discuss a venue or mention the fact that Cindy does not want to use the gym. Then, after doing nothing, Les suddenly realizes there’s no venue for the reunion. He panics and sulks.

After Cayla suggests the school, Les discovers that Bull is running a sports-related activity in the gym that same day. So apparently Les will use his “friendship” with Bull to convince the moron to f*ck over the basketball campers so he can use the gym for the reunion. The dreams of young aspiring hoopsters put on hold so Les and his obese pals can waddle around the gym, all because Les was too lazy and mopey to find a more suitable venue. What a dick.

And now, obviously, Cindy will get all upset and berate Les, then she’ll be forced to apologize on his porch after it’s the Best Reunion Ever. That horrible dick with ears will be the f*cking hero again. And it sickens me, it really does. This mess is going to take weeks to play out, guaranteed.

A Load of Bull

Link to today’s strip when it appears.

I ask you–how could I resist a post title like that? Tom Batiuk must be a faithful reader here, and decided he was going to lob an easy pitch right over the plate.

I had no idea that Bull’s fantasy was to be a news reader, just as it came as a surprise that Ann Fairgood wanted to be a writer. I also had no idea how far he’d go to realize that fantasy (barring actually applying for the job). I mean, that looks damned dangerous the way he’s sitting in the back of the truck. Note that the desk is not secured in any way, so that if the truck goes into a curve Bull risks having his thighs crushed.

I also think yesterday’s answer has to be “joking.” There’s no way a second desk would fit inside that pickup truck. Heck, the desk itself barely fits. Sure seems like Les picked the most qualified person to oversee this task. (Okay, to be fair there’s probably a second truck, or some other vehicle since we saw three students and two teachers yesterday, and we’re missing at least one of each. However, being fair is no fun.)

Dad Will Love A Shoelace Dispenser!

Link to today’s strip, when it appears.

Saturday’s strip was not available for preview…

–which, when you think about it, must be an awful lot like what it’s like for Tom Batiuk, actual writer and drawer of the strip, over the past couple of years. Let’s listen in!*

“Okay, I need a strip to end the week. Where was I with these stories? Oh, again…ugh! Open, file, browse…uh…NO NO NO. Digging out the spreadsheet is too much work–why can’t new technology work the way I want it to?–the hell with it–I’ll wing it! So…let’s do a comic book tribute! Oh wait–it’s Saturday, not Sunday… Hm. How about…(pause)…someone waxes nostalgic about how things were better back in the 80’s? I could have…uh…Funky…yeah, he’ll work–be all peeved that Sony’s mini-disc never really caught on. Or maybe laserdiscs? Yeah–I could have Funky holding one delicately by the edges and saying how great it was that you could ‘hold a real movie in your hands’ and it’s, like, Back to the Future, or Sinbad of the Seven Seas, or Stallone in Cobra. Yeah, yeah, this is great. Only…maybe too great. I could probably get a week out of this. A week? C’mon, Tom, who’re you kidding? Two weeks! Yeah! Lemme get out the ol’ sketchpad, and–

“–oh crap. I still have to do this damn Saturday thing. Damn it. Just when I’m on a roll, too! Oh, ah, let’s see, Bull tells student athletes, the ones he hates, to go get a few desks. And he says ‘You might consider this a desk job!‘ Yeah, that’s good. Or maybe something about ‘This is as close as you’ll get to TV coverage’? Oh, that’s good, too–man, I sense another week coming up! –no, no no! I gotta get this done. Okay. Okay. Everything is calm. Mental coin toss. Going with the ‘desk job’ thing. Yes…[draws some stuff] another day’s work…worked out. Time to warm up the VHS, the popcorn maker, and delve!”

*THE MANAGEMENT RESPONDS. The preceding paragraphs are done in the spirit of satire, and do not reflect the views or thoughts of Tom Batiuk, the employees of Batom, Inc, the employees of Bantom, Inc, or anyone else real or imagined, including buildings and landmarks. All rights and ownership are possessed by the copyright owners; any suggestion otherwise is the product of a deranged mind and authorities have been alerted. All trademarks are the property of their respective companies. People who were total jerks have been fired. If this post contained actual content, you would have been instructed by the government to seek shelter in the designated areas now appearing on your television screen. Authorities urge private citizens to stay inside their homes behind locked doors. Do not venture outside for any reason until the nature of this crisis has been determined, and until we can advise what course of action to take. Keep listening to radio and TV for special instructions as this crisis develops further. This is not a test.

The Biggest Prize in Sport

Link to today’s strip.

My God, look at Bull’s face in panel two. That’s the perfect Funky Winkerbean mask of weariness and resignation. Remember what I said the other day, about how Tom Batiuk has lost the ability to tell jokes? This right here is the proof. If Bull was wearing even a slight smile, his remark could be taken as a joke, about…uh…how the girl’s basketball team needs more training? Or they’re larger and stronger than the football players? Or something? Instead Bull has the expression of a man who’s about to walk that last lonley mile. “Any word from the governor?” Young Bob Dylan, tangled up in blue in the lower left, would be wise to quit glowering and listen in; he might get a great song out of this, maybe even a whole album! Maybe something like “Idiot Wind-Bag.”

Lastly, there is a bit of amusement on display as history is about to repeat itself: Les, not paying attention, is going to walk right into that purple-shirted girl who is distracted by her cell phone. KLANG! *OOF* THUD. On his trip into the past, one wonders what Les Moore would tell his younger self. One suspects it would be something like, “Buy that Starbuck Jones comic, kid.” After all, if your mind only has one track….

The shirt off your Batiuk

After teasing Bull with a free t-shirt on Tuesday, the EMU crew finally gets around to giving it to him in today’s strip. Bull is smart enough to thank them on behalf of the class, because there is no way the class is thanking these two shmucks after being belittled all week, not even for the free t-shirts (that they apparently have yet to receive). The EMU football jersey worn by a young, shaggy-haired Bull in the title panel bears a remarkable resemblance to the SMU jerseys from the same era. Coincidence? Maybe, but the football program that received the “death penalty” seems very Westview-appropriate.

Thanks for putting up with me for the past two weeks, you all make the comics page that much better. The great beckoningchasm takes the reins tomorrow.

One last Emo bit, presumably about what Becky and John Howard plan on doing when they finally escape Westview:
I was staying in Florida at a motel called The Three Palms, run by an older couple… one of whom was missing a hand.
– Emo Philips