Haha, can you imagine? An actual(?) superhero man is petrified just at the thought of being near a woman! Hilarious! Can you imagine if maybe an actual superhero was a woman, and not just this evil supervillain(?) Pizza Monster? The entire multiverse would collapse! They’d have to invent new words like “superheroine”, probably! Ha, total fear just from being near someone who merely suggests they might be a woman, truly this is the epitome of hilarity and quarter-inch from reality writing.
Tag Archives: things that make you seriously regret ever starting to read FW in the first place
I hope against all hope that today’s strip marks the end of this chapter of Les Goes To Hollywood And Gets All Pissy- Part II, particularly for the sake of our own spacemanspiff, who has to write up the next two weeks of strips. Trying to come up with words to describe this horror is not a task I would wish on my worst enemy… or even Tom Batiuk.
On the emptiest beach in California, Masone engages in some criminal activity that doubles as the dumbest cult ritual this side of the Lisa’s Legacy Run. Not one aspect of this stupid movie project has moved forward since October despite the fact that four weeks worth of strips have been expended covering the inactivity.
Not even the prospect of s’mores improves things, which is terribly sad.
Fortunately, today’s strip stays in one time line. It also quotes one of Bob Dylan’s best-reviewed songs. Well, that’s two positives to the… end-ish? of this very
maudlin special story arc. FYI: A donation has been made to the Boston University CTE center, presumably so readers will remember what this story arc was about last month.
So was Bull a member of the local Dylanist congregation or is that the only house of worship in Westview anymore? Both?
And with that, I am relieved… both to be done with my posting stint and, come tomorrow, by the incomparable Spacemanspiff85.
“I can’t BELIEVE that no one at The Syndicate realizes that I’m just repeating the same sequences of words and re-telling the same old stories day after day after day! I know! I’ll make this one a one-paneler, tee-hee!”
I can’t believe someone pays for this content. Lifelong Westviewian fixture Funky suddenly doesn’t remember his legendary band teacher (and infamous local legend) Harry L. Dinkle, Holly is talking to Funky like he’s new in town and the Alzheimer’s patient is as sharp and quick-witted as ever. He retconned the entire strip just for the sake of re-telling that dumb Rose Bowl parade story, apparently just because he associates the new year holiday with the Tournament Of Roses parade, I guess. Then, after turning his characters into total imbeciles in order to shoehorn his dumb reference into the strip, he can’t figure out how to end it without resorting to pathetic filler, brainless repetition and a “hilarious old coot” gag on top. What a sorry display.
The joke here is that the Lisa Cancer Trilogy collection is so massive, expansive and all-encompassing it’s way too big to fit properly in this weirdo’s dead wife’s Xmas stocking. Imagine trying to explain this strip to someone unfamiliar with the eccentricities of the Funkyverse…
“Wait, the guy is buying a book about that guy’s dead wife as a Xmas gift for HIS dead wife?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”
Three dudes hanging out at a book signing, just shooting the shit about the dead women in their lives. There’s only one “writer” alive today who’d mine that premise for chuckles. This is possibly the single worst Christmas story ever written and this Anon-O-Widower guy is one of BatHead’s most perverse creations ever. A guy who buys “Lisa’s Story” as a gift for his own dead wife…that’s a f*cking warped and disturbing fantasy scenario to dream up, even by FW standards.
A guy met Les at a “Lisa’s Trilogy” book signing and bought a copy to give to his dead wife as a Christmas present. Everyone smirked. This actually happened. We’re through the snarking glass here, people.
“Lisa’s Trilogy”…the PERFECT holiday gift for that dead spouse in your life! Flowers, votive candles…that crap is all so temporary and trite. But “Lisa’s Trilogy”, now THERE’S a gift with some serious heft and permanence! Why, in a pinch it makes a totally acceptable tombstone…no worries about grave robbers with that weighty tome sitting on your loved one’s burial plot! And once it gets wet, soggy and frozen you’ll need a f*cking backhoe to drag “The Trilogy” out of there.
And for those still-living readers, what better way to re-live your own sense of deep loss and crushing grief than with a blow-by-blow account of Lisa Moore’s star-crossed poodle-headed life and tragic overwrought melodramatic death? See, some folks DO have things worse than you and you CAN’T do anything about it! It’s almost like an inspirational self-help guide, but the opposite! AND it’s personalized by the author himself!
“To my biggest dead fan…Merry Christmas! Condolences, Les Moore”…with a little Boy Lisa smiley face sketch beneath it. Man oh man, I have no idea what prompted this but Batiuk is going off the Lisa deep end again, killing off EVERYONE’S beloved wife in an increasingly desperate attempt to force everyone to remember his most prestigious prestige arc of all-time. It’s like he knows the ten year anniversary of “Lisa’s Story” is almost up and he’s racing to cram as much Lisa as possible into the strip before 2017 runs out. What a nut.