Tag: le chat bleu

First Class Jackass

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No, Le Chat, actually it’s a classic case of annoying wuss angst being relentlessly beaten into the ground by a sad old hack. There’s definitely a guy pretending to be a “writer” here and I don’t mean Dickface, either. I have never wanted to see a surface-to-air missile used more than I want to see one used today. F*ck you, Les and f*ck you too, Pulitzer (nominee) Boy. Charles Schulz must be spinning in his grave tonight, poor guy.

This is one of those exceptionally annoying FWs where Les is eminently punchable in every single panel, including the disembodied Sunday strip head. God how I detest and loathe this whiny, simpering moron and his pathetic cancer book. And I likewise detest and loathe the way BatBrain wallows around in his ridiculous writer fantasies, endlessly bitching about the joylessness of it all like it’s the worst possible way to make a living. If it sucks so much then quit, you can always just re-run the old strips “FBOFW”-style, no one will ever notice the difference anyway. What a pair of whiny sorry saps.

Going To Be???

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Well, it’s already Friday so why bother moving the story along at all? Might as well devote the rest of the week to Les, his idiotic imaginary cat and his endless, incessant whining and just start (chortle) “fresh” on Monday, right? It’s been working for forty-plus years so why alter that successful formula now, you know? The way TheAuthor is wallowing in his clever little “writer’s anxiety” fantasy (like he would know anything about it) is just too sickening for words. If he seriously believes this is enjoyable to anyone other than himself he’s either totally delusional or stoned off his gourd on felt-tip fumes again. What a hack.

We Know The Feeling

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So in today’s installment of “Why Am I Reading This?” the Delicate Genius is concerned about working with the “script doctor” the studio hired to fix his shitty screenplay. I’m assuming that after the script doctor declares “Lisa’s Story” dead, the script coroner will step in. Too bad no one contacted a script abortionist when he first started writing it, but it’s a little late for that now. Speaking of hopeless lost causes, rumor has it that The Syndicate ordered TB to work with a “strip doctor” a few years back but unfortunately the poor bastard hung himself three hours into the job and they’ve had zero new applicants for the position since then.

Check out the peculiar frown on Cayla in panel two. Is that the look of a woman who’s just realized that she married a guy who hallucinates talking cats or what? She had her chance to bail on Les years ago but she blew it, so no sympathy here. And I am choosing to ignore Les’ weird assy pose in panel three because, well, just because. Some things just do not need to be elaborated upon.

If he’s not arrogantly strutting around like a smug pompous asshole and putting everyone else down via his annoying bits of asinine wordplay, he’s whining, simpering and cowering away from anything that might remotely inconvenience him, even if that thing is his life-long dream coming true. Les Moore: what a f*cking dick. Although I do really enjoy the sheer hatred he generates in the comments.

Hopefully His “Big Break” Involves 206 Bones

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In today’s installment of “Oh No, Not This Again!” Les Moore, the bearded dick with ears who always dreamed of being a big-time writer, is sulking like a baby because the studio that’s adapting his cancer book for a TV movie wants to fly him to The Big City to have him work on his terrible boring script. AND this request coincides EXACTLY with his summer vacation from his real job! Poor, poor Les, will the indignities never end?

So Les is going to La-La Land, the decadent and depraved heart of the very worst our disgusting popular culture has to offer. And he’ll be flying, but no worries there as Les has a very special (wink!!) type of flight insurance which I won’t get into here. Given how FW works, I’m sure Les’ flight will be pleasant and uneventful and he won’t have a single issue to complain about.

The cat hallucinations are getting confusing. Now he sees Le Chat every time he gets a little stressed about anything involving writing? Since when? The dead wife hallucinations were troubling enough but now we’re clearly in “mental illness” territory here. Perhaps he could hallucinate a more pleasant personality for himself while he’s at it. What an annoying weirdo.

Bu(zzzzz)Kill

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He’s back: The Delicate Genius, the paragon of integrity and virtue, the defender of the Gospel According to Lisa, the man who has the courage and conviction to see right through the perverse decadence and evil greed that rules “Hollywood” and the twisted freaks that dwell within. That’s right, the smug, annoying dick with ears himself, Les f*cking Moore, along with his trusty imaginary sidekick, Anxiety Cat!

In this installment of “Les Writes The Same Story Again And Again And Again”, it seems that Clay Wallace, noted Hollywood scumbag, has concerns about Les’ shitty script. So he’s postponing the “pilot” and doing a “table read” instead, which makes no sense at all unless you’re a bad comic strip writer trying to toss around “show-biz” lingo, in which case it’s perfectly logical. Maybe they’re turning the cancer book into a series now, where another shoe will drop each and every week.

(“Previously on Lisa’s Story”:……..”Is she….???? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”)

And look at TheAuthor trying to work that ridiculous cat into the story again. Les’ imaginary friend means he’s about to suffer once again from the intense angst and self-loathing that comes with the territory for a profoundly gifted “writer” like him. He has no problem with dropping one of his dry little sarcasm bombs on his boss like a big wiseass but when it comes to plying his trade for money he starts simpering in the corner again, all worried about the universe conspiring against him and so forth. He’s just so incredibly insufferable. Look at him there in panel three with that smug obnoxious look on his face, who can look at that panel and not think about killing the guy? What a dick.