Tag: Les

Merry Les Mess

It Can Indeed Get Worse

Sigh. My most dreaded SoSF hosting scenario…a Les & Funky jogging arc. But wait! Two mysterious strangers approach Les and Funky, asking if they can run with them and…oh. Oh, it’s just Cory (yawn) and Rocky (zzzzz). Given that the new and improved Corporal Cory is about as interesting and entertaining as watching a compost heap molder, I’m not expecting much in the way of long-term plot development here or anything. Har.

Not only does he once again maddeningly start another new arc with like fifty other ones still dangling there, he has the f*cking temerity to put Les in that (sorry, no offense but there’s no other proper way to put it) fruity lavender-ish pink headband of his, which only increases my desire to use some sort of special gun to launch a huge railroad spike through his forehead. Wow is that enraging or what? It’s like he’s taunting me, deliberately looking for ways to annoy me even more, which should not be possible according to all existing scientific models.

#LessLes

So today’s strip remains centered on Les’ comments from the bleachers, and the banality can not be broken by Funky’s lame-ass joke. It got me thinking about how much better FW could be with just a few little tweaks. You know, like making it funny again, or dumping that stupid Starbuck Jones crap, or something really simple like getting rid of Les. I really wish T-Bats used social media; it would be awesome if the #LessLes hashtag went viral and gave him a rage-aneurism.

[Edit: Changed link from nj.com to sfgate.com because of problems loading the strip from nj.com]

I said I DON’T NEED AN EDITOR, DAMMIT.

cmtWhat have we here?

Country Music Television?
Canine Mammary Tumor?
Congenitally Missing Teeth?
Cervical Motion Tenderness?
Chronic Multiple Tics?

Thanks, Tom, but Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy already has a perfectly good acronym. High five for getting the “C” right, though.

Congratulations to Holly and her Pokemon Go adventure. You can see by the picture she’s caught (left to right) a Jynx, a Weedle, and a Snorlax.

 

cte-edit[Edit]  As reader Erich noted, someone at Comics Kingdom managed to spot Tom’s goof and take care of it before the strip actually went live. I’m leaving my original post as it stands, though.

 

J-Jerome?

Link to today’s dribble.

jeromeYes, Les, you insufferable, condescending douche. It’s true: All through high school, you were beaten up by someone named Jerome. And since you seem to have forgotten, you were also occasionally protected by someone named Jerome, apologized to by someone named Jerome, helped train for your Kilimanjaro excursion by someone named Jerome, played tennis regularly with someone named Jerome, and let’s not forget how that Jerome asshole provided Summer with extensive and free physical therapy after she blew out her knee playing basketball.

For chrissake, Les and his meatworld counterpart T-Bats have been out of high school for more than thirty five years. You’d think they’d have grown out of making fun of people’s names by now.

 

The Long Goodbye…

…starts today, as Westview High School’s CCTV news program announces Bull’s retirement to the student body. I don’t know what to call it anymore, though, because apparently either Tom or his Sunday Artist Intern is spelling  the title “The Bleet” nowadays. So, what do you think? Is T-Bats slipping in mistakes like this intentionally to screw around with the snark community, or is he just going a little soft in the noggin?

Since we’re talking about The Bleat/Bleet, say hello to Bernie Silver who seems to have inherited the anchor’s chair from Owen. And since he reports that the official retirement sendoff will be on Friday, we can probably expect the entirety of next week to depict =- or at least talk about – said ceremony.

So, we’ve got Bull’s retirement, a new anchor, and a stupid typo. Other than that, this is pretty much your typical mediocre Sunday throw-away, just like last week with Funky’s leafy hairline. I can’t help thinking, though, that Tom is setting Bull up for a fall. Look at Les in panel three. That filthy, squint-eyed, lifted-eyebrow smirk. He knows something, that smug fuccboi. I’m starting to hate Dick Facey as much as Epicus Doomus does.