Tag Archives: the internet

Banned Room Revolution.

Today’s strip, when it drops.

Well, it’s been a real teeter-totter of a shift. One week of super-depressing Lesplotation misery porn, and another week of weightless recycled turkey gags. But you how the old song goes: When you’re up, you’re up. And when you’re down, you’re down. And when you’re only halfway up, it’s Sunday and the strip isn’t available for preview.

Our glorious leader TFHackett, is assuming his place on the podium tomorrow. Please treat him with the respect due a founding father of our blogiverse. He’s chopped down Lisa trees, and crossed the mighty Cuyahoga, and seen our troops through the frigid winters of Ohio. He stood up to the rotten king who tried to silence our freedoms through C&D, and brought us to this promised land.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Poultry Predilection.

Link to today’s strip

Becky is preening with pride today. So smug at having found a great, time and hassle saving, idea that Dinkle never considered. I wonder how much this Bandigogo service takes away from their fundraising bottom line? The employees at the frozen turkey warehouse distribution center need their pay, as do the desk drones processing these orders, and the numerous fast talking sale pitch charlatans who undoubtedly prowl the band conferences looking for harried Band Directors juggling too much one-handed who can be persuaded to outsource.

But on the other hand, they’re probably saving a bundle in people suing the school for attempted negligent manslaughter due to virulent food poisoning.

Look at Dinkle in panel three though. He’s saying amazing, but something about his facial expression tells me that he’s secrectly repulsed by the idea of never touching a frozen turkey again.

Never feeling that rock hard, frostbittten flesh slowly defrost beneath his plying fingers as the glistening breastmeat becomes pliable and eventually supple with the warmth of his wrinkled hand. Freezing and thawing, freezing and thawing, over and over again.

He can’t imagine life without a freezer full of round blobs of pink dead flesh in his basement, a box of death resisting decay, ready to melt in his grasp.

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I Can Think Of One Person Who Isn’t

This is Batiuk attempting witty sitcom style dialogue. And it is painful. “So what brings?” is not something a human would say. And the way Funky is poking into the second panel saying his little line reminds me of a cheesy sitcom character chiming in with his trademark catchphrase. Also, if you go to a pizza place and just order “the pizza”, I think it’s maybe not a great pizza place.
Why in the world anyone would want to meet Les is beyond me, although it does seem like the kind of thing you’d do after a funeral. “Oh, we spent the past hour or so thinking about death, I wonder what Les is up to?”  Bull’s dead and barely cold in the ground, so I guess that just means more time for Les.  Yippee.

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And As I Logged Off The Chat It Occurred To Me, This Tale Is All About Me, It’s All About Poor Poor Me*

Link To Today’s Strip

* I like to finish what I start.

As usual, BatYam’s big mega-prestige arc so far has mostly consisted of a bunch of sad gags and time-killing tropes that sort of loosely circle around the premise in a wishy-washy orbit that kind of dulls the impact of the big emotional sledgehammer moment. And I really hate to drive this point into the ground yet again but to be honest, debilitating brain disorders in the Funkyverse quite frankly don’t seem all that bad. Like with Mort Winkerbean’s hilarious and nutty Alzheimer’s, the main CTE symptoms in the Funkyverse seem to consist of various zany blunders, goofy mishaps and a general sense of harmless bungling idiocy. Just speaking for myself here, but I’d have been thrilled if my dementia-stricken loved one had ordered a pizza, much less organized an entire pizza-delivery contest. Unfortunately though, she had the real kind.

One also has to wonder why Linda bothered joining a support group at all. She can’t accept support nor does she offer any, thus the whole thing seems kind of pointless. Again, we haven’t been given any indication as to why everyone, including his kids, has totally abandoned Bull, just that Linda is desperate and all alone. Like I just said above, the premise just sort of hangs there in this nebulous sad gag-filled haze. It honestly just makes Linda seem sort of hapless and whiny, which I don’t think he was going for here.

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My Spouse Lit A Fire Just The Other Day, Tried To Cook A Pizza In An Unusual Way*

Link To Today’s Strip

* Nope, not letting it go.

Linda reading Batiuk’s NYT interview.

“And then I asked my cognitively impaired husband for a bite. So he bit me! (rimshot)”. Apparently Linda’s online support group is all about one-upmanship and exchanging daffy anecdotes about who’s got it worse. Sounds real helpful. No wonder she’s so miserable all the time, even her “my husband is so cognitively impaired…” gags aren’t that good. Leave it to Linda to find the wryest support group on the internet. In any other support group she’d undoubtedly be the wryest by far, but not this one.

“Take my CTE-afflicted husband…please! Why did my CTE-afflicted husband cross the road? He doesn’t remember! But seriously folks, is this thing on?”

This weird mix of weak sad gags and unbearable human misery has always been FW’s stock in trade but man, it sure does take a terrible toll on the readers. Perhaps he feels that by zany-ing things up a little it’ll increase the dramatic impact when Bull dies. And maybe it would have, if he didn’t go and spoil the whole story for no good reason like an imbecile. But alas, we’ll never know.

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And The Laundry’s A Hassle And The Game Film Is Too But It’s Sure Nice Talking To You, Group, It’s Sure Nice Talking To You*

Link To Today’s Strip

* When I find a post title theme I like I stick with it, dammit.

Ooooh-fa. Yet another poorly-placed and totally unnecessary joke that just kills the Very Serious mood here. While endlessly doing laundry and watching old football games is somewhat disturbing behavior, it COULD be worse, you know. I mean why not have friends and neighbors drop off their laundry and slip it into Bull’s daily wash pile? Monetize it, Linda! And it’s not like he’s wagering on those old football games, he’s just watching them. And seriously, is that all that much different than what pre-CTE Bull would have done? Methinks not. Anyhow, Batiuk is once again just treading water here until the Big Payoff, which will apparently consist of Bull killing himself to spare his long-suffering wife the burden of unnecessary appliance repairs. This comic strip really goes to some dark, dark places sometimes.

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Rage Against The Wry-ing Of The Light

Link To Today’s Strip

I suppose one could make the argument that this installment does actually move the story forward, albeit very slightly. I mean one COULD make that argument, but let’s be real here…no one will. Anyhow the real issue here is the incredibly annoying way that Linda feels compelled to make these dumb feeble jokes to punctuate everything she says. An “anger board of directors”…yeah, hilarious. Would their also be anger stockholders who receive quarterly anger dividends too? It’s supposed to be a Very Serious story yet BatYak just can’t holster the wry wordplay for even a day. I mean come on, no actual people speak (or type or think) like this. What’s next, a gag about Bull being “tackled for a memory loss”? (If he uses that one I will demand compensation). It’s interesting how he supposedly DOES have an editor yet no one ever stops him and says “hey, maybe tone down the wordplay a little and just do some plain old dialog for once”. Sigh.

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