Three panels, three places, and no answers in today’s strip.
So Phil Holt created The Subterranean, demanded ownership of the property, didn’t get it, left in a Les-level huff… and then hated Flash for the rest of his life? Was it Flash that denied Phil ownership of The Subterranean? Should I submit this to CIDU? We’ve gone from classic TB “tell don’t show” to “tell, but not really”.
One assumes then that Phil took The Subterranean to Marvel, where the concept was reworked into Subterranea. The butterfly effect of this decision ultimately resulted in the greatest Spider-Man story in recorded history, so let us all be grateful for that.
I’m less curious about the identity of the unseen mystery nerd in today’s strip than I am about how they intend to “make it” to Comic-Con, which even in the Batiukverse is occurring “@HOME”.
Hey waitjustagoshdarnminute! This webpage is the same thing Pete was looking at on Monday, isn’t it?! Pete wasn’t even contacted directly by the Comic-Con or Eisner Award folks? He learned the news by reading a press release on the Comic-Con website? I don’t know if that is hilarious, sad, or hilariously sad…
(Some of our loyal SOSF commenters actually noted that Pete seemed to learn of Flash and Ruby’s induction via such indirect communication as a webpage earlier this week. It would appear that J.J. O’Malley was the first commenter to mention it, so please come up to receive your “Beady-Eyed Nitpicker” award, J.J.)
Prepare to re-enter the Funkyverse. Return all brains to the “off” position
Ho-ho-ho! Take THAT, airline industry! Always nickle and diming the hell out of the little guy, amirite? Luggage, peanuts, oxygen…is there anything those vultures don’t charge you for these days? Why I remember back in the day when flying was fun and glamorous and the sexy stewardesses would hand out food, booze, smokes and candy like it was candy…back before technology stole our souls and turned us into a nation of chullo-wearing….(zzzzzzzzzz).
Ooops, drifted off there. Yeah, it’s probably not the worst FW gag ever (as if) and the always objectionable Dinkle doesn’t say anything or contort his face into an obnoxious cackle, so there’s that. It’s pretty rare, so savor it.
Coming on Monday (minor spoilers): A distraught Becky stumbles into band practice. A student reminds her to sterilize her trombone mouthpiece.
“Band Director For Life Harry Dinkle’s plane was shot down over a large pig feces retention pond in North Carolina. It spun in…there were no survivors.”