Tag: Westview High School

BLAM!

So the cash-strapped Westview football can shell out between four and seven grand for a football helmet tunnel to give the team “some real class” (because “real class” is what wins football games). And from the looks of panel 4, they inflated it with…highly flammable hydrogen? It took me a long while to discern that those aren’t leaping flames but rather letters spelling out “BLAM!” Of course, by the final panel, things aren’t as bad as they looked (unfortunately). Evidence found at the scene will later reveal the blast to be the result of sabotage by last Sunday’s player-turned-ballboy Jason Williams!

Oh Balls

That section of fence should have a permanent indentation from how Bull drapes his bulk over it every football season. “Jason’s” dad pleads on his son’s behalf for more playing time. Bull’s reply delights Mr. Williams (no relation) who goes strutting happily on his way. Hopefully, when Mr. Williams realizes that Jason has effectively been cut from the team, he’ll come strutting back to punch Athletic Director Bushka right in the face for making a jerk out of him. And would the poor kid’s title really be “ball boy” and not something less demeaning like “equipment manager”?

Con"Grads"ulations, Class of 2022–err, 2012?

Guest blogger DavidO here, reporting for duty for my last entry before passing the reins back to someone with much more talent than I, TFHackett!

Confusing, impossible to decipher time-jumps aside, Summer and Company (Aka, the nameless, faceless rest of her class) has finally graduated from high school!

Call me an ol’ softy but I can’t find too many faults with Sunday’s strip, aside from the smirk on Summer’s P1 baby picture. It’s actually rather well done and paced at a level that lends itself well to a one-shot Sunday strip.

Enjoy it, Snarkers. Dailies like this are far and few inbetween.

A glitch in the matrix

Someone refresh my memory but have we not already done this joke!? It was either this or a very slight variation of it.  I’m reminded with strips like these that we longtime snarkers might be recalling the one-a-day gags as being funnier than they were.

In any case, time, or what we understand to be some rudimentary construct of time, seems to be advancing in a forward, almost coherent movement for once. I couldn’t tell you for the life of me when Summer got her driver’s license (or if she even did) but a mess of students are about to graduate from high school, leaving us with Cody, Owen and a gaggle of nameless, faceless students with pencil wrists and melting faces.