Tag Archives: CTE

Memories… Summer good, Summer not

It’s back to the WABAC machine in today’s strip. No, I’m not talking about the flashback to “five years ago…”, I’m talking about Bull’s funeral, which has itself moved two-and-a-half years backward in time in order to accommodate a five years ago flashback featuring players Bull last coached in the spring of 2012. Well, at least we are getting something that is actually about Bull in this one… that’s so damning with faint praise that it could keep an ocean at bay. (“Billy was a special blogger”, they said at his funeral.)

Also, I tagged both Keisha and Linda in this, because I’m not sure which one of them is standing next to Summer in panel 3.

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Back Page News

Are you wondering how Bull’s wife and children are mourning his death? Maybe how his former players and fellow coaches, whose lives he surely had a large impact on, have reacted? Well, too bad for you, for the art of storytelling, and for general decency… because today’s strip is focused on four schmucks, only one of whom even knows Bull moderately well (and one who has NEVER once met the guy) and none of whom have talked to Bull in at least 3 full years. Heck, they aren’t even talking about Bull, they are awkwardly reminding us that Cindy was popular in high school.

Bull’s death only made page 2 of the Westview Gazette? This is a town with only five employers and Bull was the most decorated employee in the history of the largest of those. What could possibly have made the front page?

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Helmet Heir

If you read the New York Times, then you’ve already seen today’s strip.

Long time readers are probably wondering why this state trooper is reenacting the second most memorable thing about “The Electric Company” with Linda instead of hauling off her baked meteorite, as the disposal of dangerous foodstuffs is the historical role of the Ohio State Police in Funky Winkerbean. I’m right there with you, as I honestly don’t know.

FW1-26-86

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Hide-ku Hai-key

Gasp! It’s today’s strip!
Rummaging through the drawer
Linda finds failure

Bull asked for the keys
Is known obsessive searcher
Just what could go wrong?

Keys barely hidden?
Linda phones homebody Bull?
This is asinine

No, seriously
This narrative makes no sense
All over the place

A Chevette 4 door
Indy 500 pace car…
And what year was that?

Buckeye State Police
Really do use that logo
But don’t use Chevettes

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Ratchet excuse of a comic

It’s been one week since Bull went to see
Doctor Jowls who we think lives in Raleigh
Five panes in that Sunday strip, telling
Nothing TB had not already let slip
Three days since the garage scene
We get in today’s strip, “the hell was he wearing?”
One hour ago, Bull finally found the key
But it’s still six more weeks ’til we move on from this story

With sincerest apologies to Barenaked Ladies, Canada, and the late 1990s.

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Let’s Do The Time Warp Again

We left yesterday an hour in the past and now today’s strip hops back to the present and then… back a week?! I dunno about CTE, but this kind of rapid time travel is enough to give you whiplash.

Isn’t this Dr. Jowls, the North Carolina neurologist? Bull and Linda were in North Carolina last week? Why is the nearest neurologist in North Carolina anyways? Bull got pretty much the exact same lines from the apparently northern Ohio-based Dr. Fivehead 3 whole years ago.

Some doctor this guy is, he’s all probable diagnosis and no treatment, and his probable diagnosis does not appear to have done a darn thing for Linda’s quest for disability benefits. Is… is that really the only reason she took him to this doctor in the first place?

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The Wreck of the Old ’97 Hatchback

Hey, so we get a microcosm of this whole story arc in today’s strip, jumping back an hour prior to the wreck that we’ve already seen… much as TB has already spoiled how this important story arc ends.

The worst thing, though, is that poor, lonesome, neglected potted plant 8-and-a-half feet up on top of the kitchen cabinets… or maybe its that Linda’s oh-so-clever hiding place for the car keys was the top of the unlocked junk drawer? The dadgum JUNK DRAWER, Linda?! The place EVERY sentient being knows that EVERY key-sized thing winds up in at one time or another? Were you even trying?

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