Tag: Les

Thelma And Ennuis

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Today sees Tombat trying way, way too hard to drive home his “point” about how horrible “Hollywood” is yet again, this time via “Thelma”, Clay Wallace’s awful, rude, somewhat mysterious and clearly miserable office drone. Man, if that woman (she IS a woman…right?) isn’t a born Westviewian I don’t know who is, she’d fit right in at WHS, Montoni’s or the front desk at the local cancer hospital without missing a beat. Awful hair, worse attitude, obnoxiously rude…forget about those “Hollywood starlets on the make” because Thelma is the REAL threat, a woman seemingly MADE for Les Moore. Methinks they’ll get along wonderfully as they attack the business at hand.

Of course I have no idea what that business might entail, as Batom has wasted the entire week with a bunch of nonsensical and unrelated babbling, but still. I’m sure he’ll get to the “script doctor” and the “table read” eventually and then maybe this idiotic tale might start to become somewhat coherent. And then again, maybe it won’t. Either way, it won’t really matter as we all know this idiocy will end with Les sitting on that crappy porch swing ruminating over how turning down that filthy Hollywood loot was the only real choice he had because of Lisa and his “art” and so on and so forth. Dopey premise, weeks of pointless repetition and senseless yammering, quick and cheap “resolution”, that’s the time-tested FW formula responsible for churning out all this fantastic art over the years. Why tamper with success, you know? Sigh.

Here I Sit, Broke And Art-ed

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Money? MONEY?? You mean writers sometimes get MONEY for writing? But…but…I thought writing was all about self-loathing, deadlines and crippling doubt? Not only does this comic strip suck but it teaches you NOTHING of any use!

Oh my, the poor, poor Delicate Genius, learning a harsh cold lesson about how his passion in life is merely a means to an end and nothing more. What a blow this must be for the Delicate Genius, who up to this point was so proud and so confident about his artistic mastery of the written word. Poor, poor Les, being forced to accept money for his work like that, will the universe EVER stop heaping the indignities and humiliations upon his tortured soul?

This week has featured Batiuk at his absolute worst. The ponderous drivel about his fictional cancer book being this incredible artistic acheivement is nauseating enough, but the simplistic tripe about the “inner workings” of the television business is laughably bad especially when you consider how it’s coming from a guy who’s “written” maybe two hours worth of “stories” over the last forty years. A “writer” in a medium as shallow as the comic strip business has a lot of balls taking shots at other writers in other mediums, maybe he should write something that isn’t a simplistic piece of garbage before he dismisses an entire industry in one fell swoop. He needs a smack as much as his stupid avatar does.

Sympathy For The Drivel

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Like how TomBat is doing, let’s forget for a moment that Wallace “optioned” Les’ cancer book after reading it so he was obviously well aware of what he was buying. Let’s also ignore the fact that this screenplay is little more than a re-write of that very same cancer book. I don’t really have a point here other than you must overlook those gigantic glaring plot holes lest you double over in laughter like Les’ imaginary feline friend over how amazingly stupid this story is. “Beautiful work of art”…c’mon Tom, enough is enough already.

You see, television is a genre with no room whatsoever for “art” of any kind, much less the greatest piece of cancer death-related art of ALL TIME. A story as magnificent as “Lisa’s Story” belongs in a medium capable of letting its brilliance shine through unfettered, like a book or a comic strip or maybe even a compilation of comic strips in book form. But not TV, uh-uh, no f*cking way. Because TV is about entertainment, dammit, and if Beardo can’t accept that he might as well take his stupid cancer screenplay and go back to his front porch where he can while away the rest of his days wallowing in nostalgia and making annoying wordplay-based wisecracks every three seconds.

Ahhh shit, I should have put a spoiler alert there, as I just totally blew the big Act IV twist. Oh well, not like you didn’t all know it was coming anyway, you know?

Compliments Of The Louse

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“A beautiful work of art”…wish fulfillment much, TomBat? Obviously we’re about to get a crash course in Hollywood scumbaggery courtesy of Clay Wallace, who will gently explain how Hollywood needs to take his work of utter genius and pack it full of dick, boob and fart jokes so the unwashed sweaty slobbering masses on either side of the country can digest it properly. Because that’s what these Hollywood scumbags do for a living, at least according to a certain gazebo-loving mid-central Ohioian who prefers his simple small town ways to the sleazy glitz and tawdry glamor of the Big City, which is probably why no one’s ever optioned FW (or that other strip he does) for a film deal. What other reason could there be, eh?

Check out the smug look on his puss in panel three. The Delicate Genius doing what he does best, basking in praise. What a dick. And why is the cat still following him around? This must be quite confusing to newer (ha) readers unfamiliar with this particular rehashed gimmick. Hell, I’m confused myself and I read this crap every day, you know?

“A beautiful work of art”…oh man, that’s just hilarious. It’s just the cancer book in screenplay form, how fundamentally different could it possibly be? It’s just so funny how the fictional cancer book is a revelatory work of literary brilliance but the real cancer book is just a colllection of depressing cartoons. The whole author/avatar Les/Tom thing is always irritating but especially so during these stupid cancer book arcs, it’s just so obnoxious.

The Fix Is In

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And so it begins, TB’s ultimate wish-fulfillment arc, the one where he really lets those Hollywood scumbags have it via his unique mix of wry annoying sarcasm and maudlin, bland pathos. Just look at this Wallace jerk, already oozing smug smarm all over the place as he plots his scheme to turn Les’ beloved cancer book into some sort of softcore cable porn nightmare. Poor LesTom, always being forced to defend the cancer book’s honor against those who would soil it with their greasy thumbprints and perverse suggestions. No wonder he can’t eat or get boners. Les, I mean. I’m not sure about Batom, though.

I see Le Chat is in there too, so prepare for a week ridden with angst, self-loathing and crippling doubt over his special cancer book. “Lisa’s Story”…it’s the book that keeps dropping those shoes, over and over again. (SPOILER ALERT)…she dies at the end.