Link to today’s strip.
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.
“When I told Bull I was going to introduce him, it really showed what a crappy friend I am, just making major decisions for Bull and not even giving him any input. I mean, I am his friend, right? That’s the word for a guy who just starts showing up at your house after you get CTE and spends a lot of one-on-one time with your wife? Where’s that dweeby English teacher whose annoying wife died, maybe he can tell his what the right word for that is. Oh, right, he didn’t show up, because apparently I’m the only one in Bull’s life who gives a crap about him. Like when I lied to him to make him think he won a game he actually lost. Gosh, good thing that never came up in any awkward situation later on.”
Link to today’s strip
What a perfect way to ring in a new year of FW: a bunch of completely pointless idiotic babbling that makes less sense every time you read it. I’m assuming that this is supposed to be yet another riff on “the parents just don’t understand”, I guess. Or maybe the fumes from all those felt tips gave The Author the (mistaken) impression that this a) makes sense and b) features humor (that Rocky drawing in panel two nonwithstanding). That studio clearly needs better ventilation, because this is the nonsensical jabbering of a madman. A really boring madman. I honestly have no idea what’s going on here and I’ve already wasted precious seconds of 2014 trying to figure it out. So on to the “huh?” pile it goes, perhaps future generations will be able to decipher it with better technology or something.