OK, I was kidding yesterday about skeevy Morton becoming a December tradition, but today’s strip takes my meanderings seriously. Who is the audience for this? OK, Greg Evans I guess, but who else?
I cannot decide which is more egregious:
- The colorist’s decision to color both Funky’s and Morton’s coats blue (probably because they are just as confused by Morton and Funky’s converging ages as we are).
- The Bedside Manor staff not knowing where five of their residents are.
If you are one of the 17 folks who own a copy of Roses In December or just a really really big Crankshaft fan, you may recall another story where a nursing home lost track of one of its residents. That time the nursing home had an excuse, as Ralph Meckler had kidnapped his Alzheimer’s-stricken wife and took her to Sotheby’s in New York to see his collection of vintage movie posters auctioned off.
So… um… uh… OK, I had a point to make about today’s strip, but I keep getting distracted by Skyler’s unnervingly tiny hands. In the first panel they look like Lyman from Garfield‘s mustache and the one in the second panel looks like Donald Trump in profile. Look, I get it, hands are hard to draw. I draw hands especially poorly, to be honest, but I really try not to make them creepy and distracting.
OK… OK, now I remember where I was going on today’s strip. Skyler might want to get his senses checked. In addition appearing clearly baffled by who this “Santa Claus” character is, Crazy surely reeks of the timelessly off-putting combination of musty newsprint and salad dressing. And yet… Skyler happily agrees to play ventriloquist dummy. Well, at least that third panel image has me thinking about something other than Skyler’s hands.
Well, we aren’t reviewing individual pages of The Flash #123 in today’s strip, I guess we’ll pick that up next week. I’m kidding about that last part, let’s not actually pick this up next week, please. Please…
I’d admire Batton’s commitment to enjoying reading his favorite comics to the point that he’s essentially worn out what is now a very valuable comic book in good condition… but willingness to appreciate consumable art in a consumable way instead of foolishly betting on a longbow retirement plan is not what this dead snail of a story arc is about. It is, ostensibly, about drawing inspiration from The Flash #123, but we have seen no evidence of that. Batton just keeps saying nice things about the issue in increasingly dumb and boring ways. There is barely a hint of how or why #123 was such an inspiration, just the vague reference to “a plan”. Speaking of… are we ever going to hear about Batton’s plan? Do we even want to?
No, and no. So, what am I complaining for?
Link To Today’s Strip
In hindsight perhaps my April Fools gag might have been somewhat jarring but nevertheless, it sure was funny. God I love you guys. We’re still here, no one is suing us and as far as I know Mr. Tom seems like a very nice man who just happens to write stupid comic strips. In case you’re wondering, no, this is not a parody strip and yes, he really did squeeze “see you next Tuesday” into a strip. I wonder if he knows? The Comics Code Authority is going to have his ass when they catch wind of this gaffe. If they ever somehow become aware of it, that is. Which seems sort of unlikely because, well, you know why.
“Sort of up there in years”…in Westview that means she’s a hundred and eleven at a minimum. Westview is like a Ukrainian mountain village where everyone lives to a hundred and fifty, with pizza instead of vodka. The way BatHam continuously mines the miseries of the elderly for laughs is always annoying and often downright troubling. Exhausted old ladies driving home after 2AM…stop dude, my knees are aching from all the slapping.
Coming tomorrow: the comedy kicks into overdrive as Gladys Goodtacia hits a deer on her drive home, putting her into a persistent vegetative state and jump-starting a protracted battle over her estate among her heirs. Harry’s punch line…”oh, deer!” is nominated for a Golden HaHa award by the Comic Strip Academy. This blog shuts down because the strip becomes too hilarious to goof on anymore.
And eye (ugh) *s-eye* (no no no) *sigh* (that’s better) sorry… I am about out of patience with this anti-majestic glacier of a story line. Every single thing in today’s strip happened in yesterday’s strip as well. I’m not sure even Garfield or Family Circus recycle at this level… I don’t know if this will help, but I have cut the 62 words in these last two strips down to 20 in an attempt to make this never-ending story stronger and more concise.
Dr. Droopy: Cataract surgery is pretty common nowadays. It is quite safe and not especially complicated.
Funky: I'm worried! WORRIED, I TELLS YA!
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.
Link To Today’s Strip
“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.