Tag: Les’ yellow shirt

Golden Years

Link to today’s strip.

Sunday’s strip is generally not available for preview, so here are a couple of thoughts until it goes live.  (I’m thinking it has been a while since we had a comic book “tribute,” myself.  I’m told, though, that we’ve got more Les on the way.)

For those of you who see the title and think David Bowie, well, here you go.

There’s been a lot of speculation here, especially during the last week, as to exactly what Tom Batiuk is up to.  We had six solid days of a “joke” that could have told itself in two, tops.  Why?

Well, I have a possible theory.  I think he wants that golden year.  I think he wants Funky Winkerbean to last for fifty years, so he can say he had a strip that reached that landmark.  Peanuts lasted for fifty years, Dick Tracy lasted for fifty years, The Far Side lasted for fifty years…that’s the only reason anyone talks about those strips, which are way inferior to mine.  So if get to fifty, I will enter the pantheon of the greats.

So, how does he reach that magic date?  By s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g these pitifully weak story arcs way past the breaking point, and having them haul more panels than their recommended load capacity.  You could hear them straining and buckling all last week, and I’m sure they’ve still got a week’s work to go starting tomorrow.  If you can stretch two days of “story” into two weeks, that Golden Anniversary is yours, baby!

This is not the first time this strip has had a space oddity or two–there’s plenty of sound and vision evidence.  From Funky always crashing in the same car, ending up in a Moonage daydream, to Wally living life on Mars while suffering panic in Detroit.  Just recently, Les had the chance to start a new career in a new town with all the young dudes, leading to fame, fashion and maybe even modern love (though not in a creepy way). However, thanks to the harassment of Le Chat Bleu (his laughing gnome), he rejected the changes and became one of the heroes.  He learned the heart’s filthy lesson, rejected those scary monsters, and chose not to become the man who sold the world.

All of this should have taken about the same time it takes to listen to a “Greatest Hits” album.  Instead, it deadheaded on for months and months.   That ought to be enough evidence that Tom Batiuk’s not doing it for the “art” anymore, he’s doing it for the “history.”  The last story I remember here that was even half-assed was when Pete met Flash Gordon; there seemed to be a little bit of engagement on the part of the author.  Everything I can recall since has been assless; I’m not even aware if there are any fully-assed stories.  One suspects not.

All I can say is, there’s a song that fits this perfectly.  I forget who made the song, but the chorus goes like this:

“Ashes to ashes, funk to Funky
We know Major Tom’s a junkie
Strung out in heaven’s high
Hitting an all-time low…”

We Know The Feeling

Link To Today’s Strip

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.

Bu(zzzzz)Kill

Link To Today’s Strip

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.

Fraidy Cat

So on Monday, it was “Woe is me, no one has read my script or replied” but by today’s strip everyone has read it and is sending him feedback. The cat is making less and less sense the more he sticks around. It’s almost like there’s a gaggle of tulpa-cat loving housewives that just think Le Chat Blue is the best thing since Garfield. Can a Le Chat Blue hoodie be far behind? Viral Web memes? Macy’s day parade balloons!?

I still wonder what universe Les lives in where a book about someone’s wife dying of cancer would generate massive amounts of interest in Hollywood. I mean, for heavens sake, this is what people want to see in movies this summer:

Godzilla Slams San Francisco
Intelligent Apes Over-Run Mankind
Tom Cruise Does Groundhog Day
A Gun-Toting Raccoon and Talking Tree Save the Galaxy