Tag Archives: wheelchair

by | October 4, 2021 · 10:28 pm

Fall of the House of Winkerbean

Okay, so it wasn’t a fall, it was an accident. How is that better? And honestly, what is the difference? Are falls somehow on purpose, and not accidental? I feel like it’s not too much to ask, but if Batiuk insists on not being funny, I really wish he could at least make sense with his writing.

Oh, and wasn’t it literally just yesterday that Holly was a sarcastic jerk when someone asked if she fell, because it was obvious that she did fall?  And now she’s saying she didn’t fall?  Maybe they need someone to come in and do a cognitive evaluation.

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by | October 3, 2021 · 10:30 pm

Comic Malpractice

It’s great to be back here, like always. I’m happy to have another fun installment of this strip to comment on. “Doctor asks an injured woman if she’s being abused at home” is yet another of the many many Batiuk strips where I read it and am just amazed that he thinks it’s funny. And it sure seems to me that literally every time someone goes to a doctor in either this strip or Crankshaft, they inevitably act like a jerk when someone asks them a super basic question.
Is it me, or is it super amusing how everyone is all of a sudden wearing masks again? After multiple strips of people talking about the pandemic like it had passed, suddenly everyone is wearing masks. I wonder if Batiuk had the artist draw them on after the fact or what.

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by | August 15, 2021 · 10:30 pm

Sentencing The Construct

Link to today’s strip.

I think the original intent here was that Mason would say the production survived various disasters, and Les’ remark was meant to categorize his cameo among said disasters. It’s typical of this strip’s style of “humor,” which is either self-depreciation or a dreadful pun. It’s also typical in that it turns real life suffering into a moment for a horrible person (Les, in this case) to smirk about how he sure suffered too.

But the way Mason’s sentence is built, it sure looks like Les is claiming his cameo is “stellar work.” In which case, ego much, douchebag? Your cameo took take after take, frustrated and angered everyone involved, and actually drove up the budget.

If that’s not the case, then once again Tom Batiuk is taking overweening pride in that which does not exist: his writing ability. He could have taken an extra five minutes and constructed Mason’s dialogue to fix the “joke.” Conversely, I suppose his editors could have fixed it for him, but they’re too busy having a picnic with Bigfoot and Mothman.

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by | February 5, 2021 · 10:30 pm

Scataract

“Humor is how I deal with tragedy“. I bet Batiuk has used that line a lot at book signings and when newspapers inexplicably interview him. And I’m sure the response he gets more often than not is “Humor? What humor?”.
I really don’t get what “tragedy” Funky is referring to here. The tragedy of successfully having a routine surgery that lots of people get? The tragedy of having to age when you’d rather stay ten in your parents’ attic reading comic books forever?
Oh, and Funky’s joke isn’t funny and really doesn’t work. It doesn’t really sound at all like what it’s supposed to, I don’t think. It’s a pity it’s one of the last things that poor guy pushing the wheelchair is ever going to hear, since he’s clearly about to drop dead.

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by | August 16, 2019 · 10:48 pm

Nocturnal Dietitians

Link to today’s strip

So they left an hour after the fair closed…and then drove a funnel cake to the Bedside Manor? How late is it? Our county fair closes at 10:00, and I’m guessing that is about standard. It’s got to be approaching midnight. What kind of nursing home lets people just wander in at midnight?

And poor old Gramps has been abandoned alone in his wheelchair, completely clothed, in the middle of the night. Where’s the nurse on call? The only reason he’s calm and smiling is from huffing the cheap nitrous oxide they slip into his ‘oxygen’ tanks to keep him passive and pliable. What kind of cut-rate elder warehouse is this? The kind where the miserable staff hide from the patients in their break room snitching jello snacks and swapping pills.

I mean, look at the heavy lidded eyes of the lady in panel one and tell me she isn’t baked out of her mind on a delicious cocktail of the nursing home specials, oxycontin, seroquel, vicodin, and Miralax. Dinkle could come marching in with an entire rock band, and she would barely be able to blink.

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