Tag Archives: Star Trek

I’ve Got A Feeling I Don’t Want To Know

Link to today’s strip (eventually).

Sunday’s strip was–surprise!–unavailable for preview (although this is normal on Sundays.  Or perhaps I should say, “normal.”)

This marks the fourth time I’ll have to spin something from nothing during this stint.  How lucky can a guy be?

Using my precognition powers, however, I can preview Monday’s, and I’m going to issue a big red alert, WARNING: LARK’S VOMIT.

As for today’s, I assume that the “AK gallery showing” wrapped up with Saturday’s episode, because otherwise Batiuk would have to *gulp* *choke* show something happening.  Horrors!  So what will Sunday be?

I’ll guess “unrelated to anything else,” because that seems to be the go-to move these days…though Batiuk does enjoy “shaking things up” now and then, by which I mean, making them more boring, so who really knows?  It’s been so long since we’ve seen Funky and Les running!

Of course, since he really loves showering praise on his awful characters, it might be a recap of the “Dullard’s art is so awesome it should be in a museum” blech.  Excuse me while I vomit.

I’m back.  Anyway, no matter what, we know what it won’t be–funny, insightful, well put-together or interesting in any sense.  Wow, Tom Batiuk…you’ve really let yourself go.

PS: The titles of my last several Sunday entries are lines from the Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning.”  Today’s is frighteningly apt.

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Groot Expectations

SoSfDavidO here! And here’s an early link to today’s strip, as I’m heading out to a re-enactment of William Henry Harrison’s inauguration speech this weekend and won’t be back until Monday morning.

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Beam me up, Crazy!

In today’s strip, the War on Limbs resumes. To wit:

The circled regions are supposed to be the same elbow joint of a teenage boy.
The circled regions are supposed to be the same elbow joint of a teenage boy.

Young Crazy is crazy indeed if he would voluntarily step onto a transporter platform. The car has something like a 0.02% chance of killing you each time it moves you around. The transporter kills the original 100% of the time.

By the way, comic books are “cool.” Working in a comic book store is high-fivin’ “cool”. And so it goes.

Also, those are feet. By Grabthars Hammer, those are human feet!
Also, those are feet. By Grabthar’s Hammer, those are human feet!

After that horror, stepping into the transporter doesn’t seem so bad.

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