Did you hear that? No, I’m not talking about the clumsily put “Darrin’s mother Lisa.” line, I’m talking about the whisper of Death, blowing across Westview, summoned by none other than Pa Pizza himself!
Deathy McKillerson may have to brush off his best tux from the look of things in Today’s strip, but it’s hard to tell if the last panel is supposed to be foreshadowing to a massive pepperoni-induced heart attack or just a joke that fell flat.
Tuesday! Where we rush into a plot-line that we’ve literally already seen before. I’m not just just referring to when Darrin was born but in the 600 times his delivery was mentioned in the strip since. I mean, no wonder Darrin is having Deja-Vu about it, how many times has he had to sit through the story of his rush to the hosptial?
Odds that Fred is going to pop out of his medical drama to “help with the delivery” are looking pretty darned high from the looks of today’s strip.
‘Ello! 4th-trumpet and Westview Waterboy DavidO is checking in, giving much-needed relief to Beckoning Chasm after BC’s two week run of excellent Funky snarking.
On to the funnies!
Hoo-boy. Put on your Members Only Jacket and throw on your Michael Jackson album because we’re about to retread over one of the tiredest troupes in situation comedy, the “Oh God, I’m having a baby, let’s duck into the nearest malfunctioning elevator that has a Rabbi, a mime and a 300lb guy who easily faints in it.” routine that was required in every sitcom, by congressional mandate, from 1983-1994.
Today’s strip throws logic out the window in favor of comedy, though I still don’t see how a panicked trip to the hospital where you gnaw your fingertips raw with anxiety constitutes comedy.
This sort of strip is great at illustrating why cell phones are the bane of screenwriters everywhere. In the age of instant connection, Jess could have just texted Durwood to come pick her up; she’s really feeling it and it’s almost time. The suitcase would already be in the car in that scenario; no need for a pregnant woman to go hauling it around.
I can’t peek ahead, so there’s no way of knowing if this arc is going to go on for weeks or if the Sainted Grandbaby will be enrolled in Westview High this time next month. Either way, prepare for every single worn out fumbling-dad-goes-to-the-hospital schtick ever seen in the last three centuries.
Before anyone asks: I’m not going to add “rents” (slang for parents) to the Batiuktionary…I actually have heard this usage (once) in real life, and it can also be found in that context on Google and Urban Dictionary. Now that we got that out of the way: war-torn Afghanistan provides the reader a welcome respite from the Taj Moore-hal. TB trusts us (for once) to discern that one of these interchangeable, faceless soldiers is none other than Our Cory. The soldiers having apparently exhausted every other topic for small talk, conversation now turns to the “rents” (in the past tense for reasons unknown). “They constantly invented new ways to be annoying.” At least they’re inventive; meanwhile their Creator constantly annoys by cycling and recycling the same tired tropes. The band director’s changed but being in the band is still an ordeal. The Scapegoats’ standout footballer is now the coach, but the team still loses. War was hell for Wally (who went MIA twice) and will no doubt be hell for cousin Cory.
Some history-centric humor from TB today. Well, in fairness, “humor” is relative. But you all know what I mean. It’d seem to be that “Camp Alamo” would be a perfect place for a FW cast member, as bravely staring down death in the face of insurmountable odds is sort of what FW is all about. Except for the “bravely” part, of course.
Son of Stuck Funky 