Tag Archives: trombone

by | January 20, 2019 · 1:21 am

Diplame-a

Well, with today’s strip, Wally has officially beaten Summer across the Kent State graduation stage. And so has Buddy. And Kay Kyser too. Sheesh…

Wait, Kent State? I thought Wally was taking classes at a community college. Granted, I have an uncle who calls Kent a community college. He went to Miami (the Ohio one) though, so his opinion is a little biased.

Also, be sure to check the throw-away panels today for a rare glimpse at Becky’s left arm back when it was still attached.

Thanks for reading my two weeks covering TB’s flotsam. SOSF hall-of-famer and hall-of-namer beckoningchasm will take the helm tomorrow.

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by | December 1, 2017 · 10:30 pm

The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore

Link to today’s strip.

I hope none of you are fans of the blues or rockabilly, because you’re about to watch the things you enjoy become tainted with Harry Dinkle, and you’ll never get any pleasure from them again.  I’m guessing Batiuk took a vacation to Memphis recently, and we’re all going to pay.

I don’t know what kind of a monster that is in panel one, but it appears to be wearing Mort Winkerbean’s skin.  What godawful drawing–Burchett should be ashamed.  Contrast that with Dinkle’s face in panel two–he gets the full “handsome” treatment, as well as a little action whip-around.

By slicing out a quarter of Mort’s face–

–he actually looks like a person.  I’d like to think that Burchett drew him more like this, and Batiuk said “Damn it, Burchett, how dare you draw any character other than Les, Dinkle and Lisa as a normal human being!!   I want all those sons-o-bitches looking like a non-human monster!  Just like all the women should be fat and frowsy with Muppet faces!!! Do you like getting paid?!  Cut it up and do it over!!”

What a loathsome thing Dinkle is–as I’ve said way too many times, of all the cast in this miserable comic, Dinkle is the one I hate the most.  He always triumphs, he’s always praised, and always beloved.  He’s one of the reasons this strip will never be noteworthy.

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by | June 9, 2017 · 10:30 pm

Saturday, June 10

Saturday’s comic was not available for preview.

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by | June 8, 2017 · 10:30 pm

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.

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by | June 7, 2017 · 10:30 pm

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.

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by | June 5, 2017 · 10:30 pm

Candy Man Comes Around. Again.

170505Members of any band under the baton of “Noble” laureate Harry Dinkle are compelled to support the enterprise by going door to door peddling turkeys, books, and that sweet, sweet Belgian chocolate. Even a member who uses a walker and who several years ago couldn’t recognize his own son.

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by | June 4, 2017 · 10:30 pm

Not the River But the Stream

You were hoping that we’d dispensed with Dinkle at least until band camp, but today we find him fronting “The Bedside Manorisms”. Either Dinkle’s done a hell of a job whipping this band into shape, or he truly has gone deaf after all; in any case he feel’s they’re ready to head into the studio. Harry, the internationally renowned fundraiser, seeks to generate merch to sell at their shows, while Walt and the lady violin player we thought was Harriet reject such crass commercialism and embrace the DIY ethic.

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