Since Batiuk went dialogue free in today’s strip (the better to further pad out this dreary story arc), I’ll be only slightly less lazy than he and just contribute a few lines of my own.
“Consarn it, here’s my joy buzzer! Wanted to use it on that actor feller!”
“Hope to God the cyanide table hidden inside will still do the job after all these years…”
“My-y-y-y-y-y-y…precious-s-s-s-s-s-s!”
“A crummy commercial? Son of a bitch!”
(I only hope fan favorite HeyItsDave hasn’t already Photoshopped this gag!)
beckoningchasm
April 10, 2016 at 10:49 pm
Wow, Tom Batiuk has absolutely no idea how the real world works. This is far more amazing and unbelievable than any Starbuck Jones adventure.
It’s times like these, gentle reader, when Batiuk’s “quarter inch from reality” stretches into light years, where it’s fun to imagine that the author is actually setting up a nuanced and compelling plot, instead of the usual flimsily constructed, implausible farce. Yesterday Mason was talking the producers into putting Cliff Anger in the picture and paying his (New York City!) rent for a year. Today Mason’s continues to overstep his authority, assigning Pete to write Anger into the script “as soon as we get back to Hollywood.”
What if Mason doesn’t have enough clout to recast and rewrite Starbuck Jones on the fly (c’mon, a guy whose signature role to date was in something called Dino Deer)? Perhaps Jarr’s come as unmoored from reality as the comic strip in which he’s a character, and he just thinks he’s pulling all these strings. I don’t have any better understanding of bipolar disorder than does Tom Batiuk, who labeled Mason as such merely to set up a cheap gag, but maybe he’s having one of what you call your manic episodes. In his head, anyway.
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These Hollywood producers really have the cash to throw around, don’t they? Presumably it’s on their dime that Mason and company have been able to fly to Ohio, then on to New York, on their quest to track down this forgotten actor. And today, on the recommendation of their leading man, they’re prepared to pay a year’s rent on Cliff’s New York city apartment, ostensibly in addition to a fat paycheck that will set him up for life. So thrilled is Cliffy with this turn of events that he’s unfazed when Mason offhandedly insults his current surroundings.
It speaks to the drawn out pacing of this comic strip that today’s strip could seamlessly follow last week’s, completely doing away with Cindy’s fire escape escapade. I’m not an avid Mary Worth reader but I imagine the same thing must happen over there a lot.
A cursory search of Grandpa Google for the phrase “grandpa google” reveals that nobody except Pete and Tom Batiuk actually call Google that, so into the Batiuktionary it goes. A good gag would have had cranky old Cliff reply to Pete “Who are you callin’ Grandpa?” But clearly this is one internet savvy old man. He’s used the web to move enough SJ collectibles to create a trail that has led these strangers hundreds of miles to find him. What little inventory he has left fits in an old suitcase: a raygun, rocketship, some action figures (and were “action figures” even a thing back in the days of serials? Boys didn’t play with dolls until G.I. Joe), along with a rather intriguing “coloring book” whose cover will probably serve as next Sunday’s entire strip.
Son of Stuck Funky 
