Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

This particular episode isn’t very exciting, unless you’ve got season tickets for Exposition Theatre.  Still, information has to be passed on, and a number of folks at CC were quite intrigued by Dixie Julep’s true identity.

(WHAT?! She said Dixie Julep was her real name! How dare she lie and impugn the good name of strippers everywhere!)

It could’ve only been better if the writer of Judge Parker had dared to call her April Patterson… (“Sure, Lynne, sure!  Using one of your characters’ names is bound to increase traffic and rebound syndication numbers of your new piece of crap “re-imagining”!”)

Good for nothing, bad in bed
Nobody likes you and you’re better off dead
Goodbye, we’ve all come to say goodbye (goodbye)
Goodbye (goodbye)
Born defeated, died in vain
Super-destructive, you were hooked on pain
Though your music lingers on
All of us are glad you’re gone

–Paul Williams

The funny thing is, I really haven’t been “moved” to mash the Foobiverse recently. I just knew that the Creatrix wasn’t going to do anything to subvert the dominant paradigm of How Weddings Should Run (okay, Grandpa Chinnuts had a heart attack, and then *poof* no more mention of him), so snarking a plain old vanilla wedding is boring.

Many of the comments that April makes are observations that folks at the Comics Curmudgeon noted over the past day or so; maybe this is more like a “scrapbook” or “memory box” (awwwwwwwwww….) for the wonderful, wonderful event…

All right, a few cheap shots. Heh.

And then…

Damn, did LJ chap my hide! I’m not a real “family” kind of person, but the Pattersons have been touted as the touchy-feely-squishy-cuddly clan since God (and LJ) were pups — there’s always family to fall back on, and Woe Unto You should you run up against the Elders of the tribe! (well, as long at the Main Elder has a potato for a nose and the Goodyear blimp for an ass)!

Liz finally discovers that Grandpa and Iris are missing. Elly’s feeble explanation is supposed to mollify her, I suppose (The first three panels are verbatim from the strip.) In the last panel, Liz’s response to “Do you have to go NOW?” (how farkin’ whiny is that?) was a simple “I do.”

Okay, Liz shows some class. And maybe this would’ve been more appropriate for April, but hey, I’m sure there’s enough pent-up resentment toward Elly for all.

I love Prince Valiant, although I usually call him Prince Violent (heh. mature.). In the current story arc, Val and Co. are sailing homeward and are somewhere in the open Atlantic Ocean. (I think this was supposed to be a shortcut. Right.) I think they’re marooned in the Sargasso Sea, but I really can’t account for the giant crustacean that Gawain landed on — I guess there’s something to be said for over-fishing to keep the giant wildlife in check.

Usually Gawain’s livery is vert and Or (green and gold), but honest to God, the past few weeks, the color-monkeys have arrayed him in teal and lavender (puke blue-green and pukier light purple), coincidentally the wedding colors for Elizabeth Patterson! I think this is a sign.

astroboy from Comics Curmudgeon wrote a nice little story about Val and Co. happening upon a tribe of repulsive being known as the Foobians, and they make a daring rescue of the Lady Elizabeth. Things happen, blood flows, villains are put down, Gawain gets the girl, not so much because their outfits match, but because Val is already married (and Aleta happens to be on the ship with him).

Epics like this deserve mashups! So in the tradition of Beowulf, The Song of Roland, the Canterbury Tales, and Dial M for Monastery, it’s The Foobarian Campaign!

Oh, hey, more Foobery. I will occasionally write to “Elly’s Coffee Talk” (aka, Coffee Stalk; aka, Coffee Glurge) over at the FBOFW website. It’s generally a hotbed of fannish squeals and wonderment (“you must be peeking in my windows!” “I have a son and a daughter that are EXACTLY Michael and Liz’s age!” “I’m the same age as Liz, and I’m a TEACHER, too!”, and the saddest recent post, from a woman who named her kid Robin, after little Wobin Cwap-pants, because she was “inspired” by him. Makes you beg the question, “Is your Robin retarded, too?”).

Because it’s pretty much a “Write to the Creatrix” shrine, most of my emails are never published (surprise!). However this one was, and appears in the 20 August mail-bag:

“With all the chicken-running-around-with-its-head-cut-off antic preparations (what? the Pattersons didn’t have a Wedding Coordinator friend who would’ve worked for them for free?) and Elizabeth so very busy with her Forever ‘n’ Ever Friends, anyone attending the wedding in a wheelchair would probably be figured to be Grandpa Jim.

“Including FDR or Stephen Hawking.

“Of course, April would notice that “That’s not Grandpa Jim!”, but why should anyone start listening to her now?”

I’m sure someone on the staff got canned for letting this slip by. Yeah, as if LJ gives a rat’s ass as long as her merchandise continues to sell…

I think it was Weed’s girlfriend who mentioned during the yada yadas that Weed has won several awards for his photography. Huh. Like anyone cares. Just so long as the wedding shots are free.

Stunningly, the original strip (12 August 2008) is pretty nice, simple and sweet. Too bad my crowd is so jaded by all things Foob that it’s hard to admit it, or think that it’s anything but a fluke (Foob fluke! Foob fluke! Foob Fluke! Say that fast 10 times!)

Of course, a good photographer knows to just keep that shutter clicking, because You Never Know:

GAH! Great, we have a strip featuring mother(zilla) of the bride(zilla), Elly, and I end up mashing it twice.

Okay, the first is a gimme. (Note the stylish Imperial Green that the hotel liaison is wearing.) The thing with John in drag is an ongoing critique of neighbor Connie slowly but surely morphing into him. Either him, or Grandpa Jim…

This was based on a lot of CCer’s speculations about Asshathony’s mother. The mother who walked out on him when he was in grade school. The woman we’ve never seen. But of course, we only see 30 seconds of the Pattersons’ busy, busy lives, so she’s probably whooping it up with Elly the other 23 hours, 59 minutes, and 30 seconds of the day. And hey, what gives us the right to see her?

…or perhaps Elly trundling toward the reception buffet in breathless anticipation. I’m really trying to avoid the Foob wedding. Mostly I’m winning.

(Gah! Why why why couldn’t the MRSA Mystery gone into the courtroom, with Max sweating profusely, his wife serving him divorce papers, his kid being more sullen and surly than usual, and Rex looking confused?)

Okay, maybe I’m losing, but sweet Jeebus on a pogo-stick, SIX limousines? Supplied by a used-car salesman? We can only hope that at least four of them look uncomfortably like hearses.

And, oh, all the “girl talk” and chatter that goes on in the bride’s ready room!  How exciting! How girly! How treacly! These are the thing the bride will remember years from now as she studies the lank, greasy kitchen curtains, and her lank, greasy husband…

I’ve been steering clear of the Foobiverse. I don’t like the usual crap and freaking out that is associated with weddings (at least not-real weddings, when everything plays out like a Keystone Kop comedy). FBOFW is no better, and it’s made even worse now with the Creatrix, retconning Asshathony’s sad, sad life (in an effort to make him more lovable to the readership) and finally showing some affection between him and Elizabeth.

Too little, too late.

Oh, and too nauseating, too.

I cannot resist the impending train-wreck…

And April may not make it to the wedding, but she’s going to go down swinging and fighting!

The mashup has just about nothing to do with the original, which was all about wedding plans and flighty wimmen and temper tantrums. (Wow, such insight, LJ!) Assuming that that’s the case, then, what are the guys doing outside?

And then it gets worse!