The Baffled King Composing Hallelujah

Link to today’s strip.

Okay…I’m going to take a wild stab here and guess that the “state of the ark” thing is supposed to be a joke about…Noah?  (Oooo, too bad last year’s film wasn’t a huge blockbuster–that would’ve helped, right?  Oooo, those year-long waits.)   As, I’m guessing again, the prior DJ’s equipment was commonly used in Biblical times–not at all conducive to repainting those  funky (oops) seventies vibes.  And all those lyrics about cubits!  No wonder the Reunion Committee ladies want something more contemporary (it’s a well known fact that, before building the ark, Noah was well known for hosting some serious raves, but that was, like, aeons ago.  You can read all about it in your Bibles.)

–Uh…huh.   Even I can’t find that premise easy to sustain, and I find it hard to believe anyone, Tom Batiuk included, would write that down and say There.  There’s the next strip.  Granted, he has given us many, many inexplicable punchlines over the years, but I seem to recall they kind of related to the subject at hand.  This one, not so much.  Unless the last DJ decided to forgo the turntables in favor of pottery shards, this is rather dim.

One thing, though–the fervor with which poor Barry is assailed makes me think that, yes, the high school does hold a reunion every year–and it’s the only thing going on in these folks’ lives.  They just go through their sad days, waiting for the magical date to show up, the reminder of when they were happy and the future was rosy.  And all they want is a decent DJ to help the illusion along.  And suddenly…I don’t think these reunion enthusiasts are idiots any longer.  I find them kind of sad, now, people longing after a happiness they’ll never have, fluttering along like a butterfly at the end of its lifespan, desperate not to die for a while longer.

Have I bummed you out?  If so, it’s good practice.  I’ve seen tomorrow, and tomorrow isn’t pretty.

Mary Sue, Meet Marty Stu

Link to today’s strip.

I don’t suppose it could be said often, or loudly, enough:  THERE’S NO NEED FOR CONTACTS–YOU SEE THESE PEOPLE EVERYDAY.

And, once again, despite all his whining and complaining and moaning about having to be on the reunion committee, someone else has done Les’ job for him.  Will that stop the whining, complaining and moaning long enough for Les to offer a simple “Thank you”?  Of course not.  Les doesn’t thank anyone.  Hmph, if anything, they should be thanking him.  Here they are, bathing in his presence and all they can do is give him grief for not being a shallow teenager.  How he suffers!

By my count, Les has done exactly nothing to help prepare for the reunion.   Perhaps that makes him wiser than the others in a real-world sense, but it still makes me want to slap him.  Of course, that’s natural to feel anytime Les shows up.

And, with Les “leading” the committee, the Coming Reunion is certain to become a Lesfest.    Hey, remember Lesfest ’12?  Totally awesome.  I got completely blitzed on nachos, man, and they had the widescreen TV wheeled in.  Woo-hoo!  Good times, man.