Tag Archives: Cayla’s pink turtleneck

In Soviet Russia, the Sack Hits You!

Cayla’s definitely put something in Les’ hot cocoa, but instead of lethal poison (our choice), mayhap she’s slipped in a little sumpin’ sumpin’ that will put some lead in Les’ stubby little pencil. Have we ever seen Les be the one to initiate a romantic encounter, with Cayla or any of the women who’ve fought over his writer ass? At least this time Cayla doesn’t have to take Les by the hand and drag him up the stairs.

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That’s Good! No, That’s Bad!

Along with his cloying false modestly, Les’ other key character trait is his fear of success. He forgets that time in his writing career when the only news he got from publishers came in the form of rejection letters. And it was only last month that Les couldn’t produce more than one sentence until Darin showed up to reminisce with Les about “Mom.” Inspired, Les squeezed out the literary equivalent of a stool sample which he sent off to the lab the publisher. Naturally the publisher loved it and wanted more, meaning—horrors!— that Les would be forced to continue working on what he considers his life’s passion.

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Slackin’ and Snackin’

 

I can’t help but wonder how much Les’ fitful creative process—including frequent breaks for things like surfing the web, random showers, and binge eating—is a reflection of Batiuk’s own. At any rate, it’s nice to see Les summon the strength to get his own food for a change rather than have Cayla fetch it to him.

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A Proven Whiner

Link To Today’s Thingy

Ewww, yuck. The Delicate Genius is sequestered away in his dreary studio, slaving away on his cancer book prequel or sequel or whatever the f*ck it is, as Cayla waits on him hand and foot because he’s either too cheap or too lazy to buy himself a coffee maker for his garage office. What a dick. Hopefully this is just a one-off Sunday strip and not the start of yet another Dick Facey, The Delicate Genius arc, as I’m just not ready for another one of those yet. Get a load of that look on his face in panel three, all smug and self-satisfied with his wordsmithing, like he’s just too clever for this world. What a dick.

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