May 12, 2016
Beyond looking like the love child of Karl Malden and Howdy Doody, Barry Bader* thus far is another one-dimensional, self-before-team guy like we’ve seen so many times before. That may not last for long as Mother Bader (who still doesn’t rate a first name), albeit hesitantly, may be getting ready to drop the bomb on him re Del. Love her Hermey the Elf-like reply to Barry’s inquiry.
May 13, 2016
Continuity errors? Yesterday Dad was late to the game again** and today he’s “almost never late to a game”? Haven’t they only played two games, three tops? Also, Barry’s freckles disappeared, albeit temporarily.
You know, Bader parents, if you wanna have a closed-door conversation, maybe you should actually close the door. Del’s looking very hair-of-the-dog there as he gets dressed for work. Meanwhile Barry’s eyes explode as he begins to put two and two together. If Darth Bader hadn’t been so focused on Barry über alles, maybe he’d have noticed Del was showing up to the games on his bicycle.
* I know there’s been a movement afoot to hang the Baader-Meinhof tag on Barry, but given his nickname “Darth” we can conclude his last nam rhymes with “Vader.” All good with me, as I hope Cousin Diedrich shows up to go all Rex Kwon Do on someone’s ass.
** Speaking of late to the game, apologies for the late Thursday post. Busy work day and time got away from me yesterday.
EES is a serious condition and today we see that it can be hereditary.
If you came to read today’s strip expecting Barry Bader to already be catching crap about his dad’s DUI, you’ll be disappointed. (I know I was.) Guess that news hasn’t traveled as fast as the news of Kenzie Hanley’s jaw-breaking incident at the Winter Blast. All in good time, I’m sure.
We do at least get the beginnings of the Mouseketeer Roll Call with the returning Mike Granger playing Schroeder to pitcher Lalonde’s Charlie Brown. If this is the same Lalonde from last season, he’s a converted outfielder. There’s a Kaz sighting as a base ump, but that’s about the size of it. As a fan of baseball history I’ve been used to seeing “pint-sized” as an adjective describing 1950’s outfielder Ernie Oravetz; given that Master Bader is a second baseman, however, I expect there’ll be a José Altuve name drop somewhere along the line. Being an aggressive baserunner doesn’t necessarily make one a psycho, and telegraphing it to everyone within earshot isn’t really qualifying material either. No, I’d be on the lookout for more Piersallesque behavior before I slapped that tag on him.
It looks like we’re going to get the full story of Del the industrial solvent salesman. Pacing of the baseball season be damned!
When last we saw Del, he was saying his goodbyes to Joe, the friendly bartender at Verne’s. Now he has climbed into a generic, midsize sedan and it looks like he’s swerving his way home to Milford. Did he stop at that Bauhaus inspired BURGER joint to try and sop up a few of those Tito’s & sodas? Not sure. Maybe he slammed on the brakes when he realized he had passed a BURPEE SEEDS OUTLET. He has nonetheless attracted the attention of the law, so let’s look forward to scenes from his field sobriety test and subsequent booking into the Central City lock-up.
It just dawned on me that maybe Whigham told Rubin he was sick of drawing kids playing sports and maybe they could focus on some other stuff for a while. Maybe more dashboards and those little guns that bartenders use to shoot out the carbonated mixers? Sure, Rodd, but we have to occasionally draw the kids doing stuff. You can keep doing the chunky bracelets.
And so we drop into the Bader place, where Barry, player of a scrappy second fills Mother Bader in on practice.
Great. Again. I nailed it, Mom. With my scrappiness and Pete De Windt’s grace…yes, Mom, the Pete De Windt that played tight end, we discussed this…I don’t think there’s anything that will stop us! Games? I don’t know when we start playing games this year. Coach Thorp has been rather evasive about our schedule. I’ll let you know when I know.
Heh heh…scrappy seconds.
So the girl who didn’t know how to play basketball in December has quickly turned into the star who
leads the team to playdown victory puts her team ahead late. Kenzie shrugs off Alfrieda E. Neuman’s flying elbow in front of Mimi and Rick Scott, who absentmindedly cops a feel (“yo Mr. Scott, that’s not where she hit me!”).
Off to the line where Kenzie then pays tribute to her ex Maxwell Bacon by
making love to the ball before continuing to shoot free throws underhanded. Has she put the Lady Mudlarks ahead for keeps? Time will tell…
Fat Chance? Oops, wrong guy… Maybe we’ll get more commentary in the comments section because, for now, I’m treating this blog like it’s the Central City Courier.
Panel three – for the win.
The Winter Blast in Central City is known for nothing if not its signature Hot Cider served in collectable, stackable cups! Buy a half dozen for your party, stack em’ up and zipline past the main stage where Snowplow Jones & The Black Ice are playing…
Oops, forgot about the Central City Cretins! They hate stackable cups and anybody who stacks ’em. This place needs a hero. Where is Herk The Mauler when we need him to clean house?