Tag Archives: scrapbooks


Link to today’s stupid installment

Jerome? Wow, you really DO learn something new every day. I’m really enjoying how this Jerome “Bull” Bushka career retrospective flies right in the face of Linda’s sudden concerns re: her husband’s wacky antics. She knew all about his endless litany of football injury-related woes for all these years and only now sees a correlation? Is she really the diabolical monster I always assumed she was or is she just that stupid?

And while I’m bandying these questions about, how about this one: is BanTom the single worst storyteller who ever lived or is there another mad genius out there who’s built an entire career from repeating a simple premise over and over again to the point where that’s all it is? I doubt it’s ever even occurred to anyone else to “write” stories like this, much less actually do it.

“Mary had a little lamb, Mary owned a small sheep, Mary’s lamb was little, lambs are sheep”…”It was the best of times, times were good, it was the worst of times, bad times, good, bad, bad good, time”…see what I mean? It shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but nevertheless, sometimes I an just incredulous that FW even exists at all. It can’t, it shouldn’t, yet here it is, each and every day.



Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

You Can’t Un-Ring That Bell

Link to today’s strip

“After he hurt he knee he was never the same. He tried to compensate by running with his head, which resulted in literally many hundreds of concussions per game, not to mention neck and spine injuries galore. Of course we were all very concerned, but it was all just so damn funny. If not for the knee, the head injuries and those public intoxication and lewdness charges he probably could have made a name for himself in the USFL or maybe even the arena league.”

“Yeah, the constant idiocy, the incompetence, the bungling, the way he mis-remembered beating the crap out of me in high school…all the signs were there.”

Silent panel where they’re just staring at one another followed by the two of them laughing uproariously.

Get a load of Linda, piecing it all together after fifteen minutes of thumbing through old scrapbooks with Les. She’s practically Dr. House. It makes one wonder what the hell she was doing during the rest of her marriage, but apparently forgetting her at work was the straw that broke the dam, as TomBan might say. Even more alarmingly, no one has mentioned doctors or medical care yet, which does seem odd given that these two idiots are the guy’s wife and so-called best friend.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky