Tag: The Bedside Manorisms

We’re Not Gonna Take It

Link to today’s strip.

Oh joy, it’s Dinkle again.  While Mort’s open rebellion against Dinkle’s iron rule is certainly welcome, it doesn’t mitigate the fact that we’re dealing with Dinkle.*

I guess back in 1972, recording an album was probably prohibitively expensive for a small ensemble.   Nowadays, even the cheapest laptop can do so (provided it comes with a CD/DVD drive–which is actually becoming scarce on a lot of computers).   Most laptops come with a microphone, and software is included on both Windows and Mac systems to record audio and burn it to CD.  That’s all you need if you want to get a “live” sounding recording, which is what I suspect Dinkle is after.  Oh, and you’ll need a blank CD.  Which are pretty much available everywhere–I’ve seen them for sale in grocery stores.

Now, if you want to record separate instruments and add effects, that’s going to cost money, right?  Eh, depends.  Nice mixers with built-in effects can be pretty inexpensive, and as for software, well, there’s Audacity which comes with a hefty price tag of “free.”   Oh, Audacity has a definite learning curve, but what are these old people going to do with their time anyway?  If it gets too tough, have them smoke some cigarettes until their brains engage again.   I’ve used Audacity extensively for my own animations and after a while, it’s pretty easy.

I’ve gone on at length about recording because I’m trying to ignore the “storyline” on display here.  This was a stupid idea when it was first introduced and it hasn’t improved since.   I don’t have a problem with the Bedside Manor band itself; I actually think it’s a great idea to get old people engaged in an activity like this.  But now that the strip is all wish-fulfillment all the time, I’m going to guess that this arc will conclude with the CD being a runaway best-seller and Dinkle being offered the presidency of Columbia Records or some damned thing.

Or, more likely, it’ll be dropped and next Sunday will be Funky and Les jogging.  Get to the 50th anniversary, but don’t unmoor too many of those boats on the way.

* That should be the album title, “Dealing with Dinkle.”  Tragedy and unflinching fate in three words.

All the Old Dudes

Sucks about Bill, but I doubt his absence should have much effect on the Bedside Manorisms’ sound. In a rare instance of continuity, the BMs’ current lineup is the same one they had when we met them two years ago: “Gimme Oxygen” Carl on trumpet; “Cataract Walt” on clarinet; Iris, whom I am taking to be the drummer because for some reason I imagine a drummer’d be more likely than our unnamed violinist to smoke “medical” weed, who remains; and of course ol’  Mort “My Alzheimer’s is But a Distant Memory” Winkerbean on the trombone.

Iris is Irie

If Carl’s breathing apparatus in yesterday’s strip was some kind of sympathy ploy, it didn’t seem to help him sell any candy. Today Carl’s traded his nasal cannula for his horn, and is looking a little more chipper and a little less prone to drop dead at any second. Not only does that bastard Dinkle force them to peddle “Raisin’ the” bars to finance their CD, the Manorisms rehearsals have been known to last well past the typical nursing home bedtime. I don’t think medical marijuana is strictly legal yet in Ohio; in any case I think Iris and the boys would need something a little stronger to put up with Dinkle.

I Don’t Want Candy

If yesterday’s strip depicting Mort and his walker (hey! Mort Walker!) going door to door to sell candy yesterday was not heartbreaking enough, here’s poor Carl pushing around his oxygen tank. Anyone opening their door to this sight would be overcome pity, but this Westview resident is fed up after years of Dinkle’s interminable fundraisers and decides she’s gonna take it out on Carl. “Whopperjawed” sounded to me like some kind of Willy Wonka reference (think “everlasting gobstopper“), but according to Google it’s a word meaning “crooked or askew”. Between the nonsensical punchline and the cruelty of sending nursing home residents out to hawk candy, this is FW at its unfunniest.