Tag Archives: Ridiculous Contrivances

With a capital “T” and that rhymes with “P”

Today’s strip will long be remembered as the one where Holly’s mother gives her daughter a wet willy. Also, pools are nice to have or something.

Look, there’s not much to this. I guess I could point out that a trip from Florida to Northern Ohio with three elderly folks would reasonably involve an overnight stay in a motel or some other type of lodging and yet, all three of these characters are wearing the same clothes they have been wearing since the trip began. I could point that out, but I won’t. I don’t want to be a beady-eyed nitpicker.

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O-haik-o

“Grandpa’s Waffle Barn”
Said three times in today’s strip
Good haiku first line

Grandpa’s Waffle Barn
A stand in for Waffle House?
At least it’s no pun

Grandpa’s Waffle Barn
Two things grandpas are thought with
Just not together

Waffle Barns closing
Across Ohio, I blame
The politicians

Kucinich, Kasich
Working together to destroy
Our tasty waffles

Did Holly’s mom leave
Ohio in ’92?
Fall apart it did

Bathroom joke again?
Or is Mrs. Budd hungry
10 minutes later?

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Route Canal

Dinkle appears in today’s strip.
No “spoiler alert” tag… this is not a spoiler, it is a warning. You have been warned. Read at your own risk. Or don’t, your life will be better off.

You know what, I’m going to focus on just one small little part of this strip and let our great commenters take the rest of it apart. I’m going to deal only with the first four words that appear in the strip, “Speaking of band candy”.

“SPEAKING OF BAND CANDY”?!
NO ONE was speaking of band candy! No one other than Dinkle is ever speaking of band candy! No one in their right mind wants to speak of band candy! I suppose Dinkle is correct in “saying “speaking of band candy” because that is a 100% accurate description of what he proceeds to do… thus, he most assuredly wanders around uttering “speaking of band candy” whenever he wants to speak of band candy. There is no other possible explanation. I’m typing “speaking of band candy” over and over again in desperate hope that this will be last time those words are ever written. Please. Please.

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Colors of the Chinned

Oh no. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. No. Just no. Please no.

*Sigh*

Our greatest fears have been realized in today’s strip. Atomik Komix has become what the Starbuck Jones movie and Montoni’s were before it, a nepotistic cesspool that doles out jobs to whoever walks in the door. No interviews, no resumes, no HR departments, just a brief conversation and YAGOTTHAJOB!

Also, like Montoni’s, Atomik Komix has had to be kept solvent by the owner selling his own personal property. Not sure this would be an owner-approved hire in real life… but this isn’t real life, this is one quarter inch from it, so the joke’s on us I guess.

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No

Today’s strip shows the unbelievably named Maris Rogers giving an unbelievable impromptu news cast about the unbelievably petty problem of Les blowing through his monthly copier privileges. But what’s most unbelievable about it is that any student who goes to Westview High would actually be willing to defend this jackass. Les, on the rare occasions  when he’s actually shown teaching, is an extraordinary asshole to his students. It simply wrecks my suspension of disbelief that the three students on the Bleat would go up against their principal, in such an inflammatory fashion, to defend this insulting prick. Perhaps that’s why the diminutive Bernie Silver is conspicuously missing.

Btw, I find it instructive that in order to find a sequence of Les actually teaching a class rather than insulting his students over parental permission for a Washington D.C. trip or simply grandstanding, I had to go back nearly five years.

Anyway, if the copier limitations that Les so strenuously protests were so draconian, you’d think the improbably named Maris Rogers (was Ruth Babe too obvious?) would find a more sympathetic teacher than the one who’s been throwing a massive hissy all week before no doubt going back to insult his students yet again.

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