Link To Today’s Strip
Poor Donna, look how excited she is in panel one. She reaches out with both hands to the bottle sitting on the weird, tiny, chest-high, table that floats in the featureless beige void. Some cheap sparkling wine. Something to take the edge off the fear gnawing at her subconscious that she’s trapped forever in this gradient colored nega-space. Locked into a bland box, where she slowly decays as the background fades, both the room and her person losing all color and detail. She’ll drink that bottle of cheap, carbonated booze and forget her horrifying existence for a while.
And then the reveal, and her face falls.
This must be payback for all the times she washed her hair with Crazy’s head cleaning solution.
But it’s okay. She can wash away her sorrows with rancidly effervescent salad dressing.
If only I could believe that Cayla’s question in today’s strip truly represented some self-awareness from TB, because YES! why didn’t Mason lead with this inevitable smoke-blowing? Sure, STILL nothing has actually happened, but we’ve wasted several days of strips even getting to Mason’s effusive and unwarranted praise, a scene we all knew was coming before this movie thing got to the point where Les could start trying to undermine specific elements of it.
As far as Mason’s opinion of Lisa’s Story goes, why would he think it would succeed in winning an Oscar where the beloved film Love Story (which, incidentally, turns 50 years old this year) largely failed. Does Love Story simply not exist in the Batiukverse? I guess I could buy that, given that this is a universe where Lisa’s Story was an Eisner Award finalist. But will Mason be satisfied with just a nomination or a Golden Globe? …or, more appropriately, a Razzie?
Pete had his go two days back, now it is Durwood’s turn, in today’s strip, to patronize Mindy, the woman who DARED to know things about comic book writing and artwork.
Whoa, hold up there Darin! You have your own woman to patronize, so back off of Pete’s! Yeah, she’s 3 time zones away right now, but that is what phones are for.
Maybe tomorrow Mindy will lecture Pete and Durwood on locking their computers while away from them so that visitors don’t use their hard work (I did not type this with a straight face…) as their own personal coloring book. We have established that she is allowed to know stuff, after all.
Well well, look who is slumming it with the rest of the non-Hollywood crowd in today’s strip, none other than Crazy Harry and Dead Skunkhead! I wasn’t sure they’d make it, but I guess they scraped up enough cash and thankfully for Jon I guess there’s no schools or daycares within 1000 ft of the convention.
Panel 2’s background is a mite cluttered but it looks like Crazy Harry is about to lose his sandwich to a guy in Guardians of the Galaxy cosplay. Because hey, the first movie came out a year ago so why not! Skunky’s face in panel two, meanwhile, is sliding so much he looks like he’s morphing into a human skateboard.
Bull decided NOW would be a good time to start making a difference? Oh well, I guess those kids he “educated” over the course of the last twenty (or whatever) years were just plain f*cked, eh? What a totally preposterous and embarrassingly lazy way to end this pointless and incredibly stupid arc. It’s just an amazingly dumb thing for the Bull character to say, especially when you consider that he’s done the “reformed former bully who learned to care” bit with Bull a dozen times at a minimum through the years. Just laughably poor, shabby, lazy and witless.
So what did we actually learn this week? One, if you’re a weirdo, a giant wuss or any combination thereof, keep the camera rolling when bullies attack. Two, if you’re a bully, check for cameras BEFORE the shakedown. Three, TomBat still has the remarkable ability to throw a random Les drawing in there once in a while that makes me hate the character even more, which shouldn’t be possible. Look at that face in panel three, the smugness oozing from every pixel with the leaves fluttering around his repulsive head as he smirks at his inferior, simplistic yet lovable old pal in that condescendingly annoying way of his. What a dick.