By bats | April 11, 2009 - 6:26 pm
Posted in Category: Miscarriage of Juggstice
Comments Off on Hey, it’s lawyer stuff!
It’s been far too long (but not long enough) since Dolly graced us all with her delightful malapropisms. If the Keane Klan were living in the modern age, as opposed to the Middle Ages, she would’ve been in speech therapy 30 years ago (which is two years in Keane-time).
(Jeffy’s own “illumination” is my contribution to the bubble. I also love his expression, a subtle (and probably unintentional, considering how these creatures seem to have a whole crayon box of 8 facial expressions) reaction to Dolly Spew Speak.
And for the rationale behind this one, I can only heap the blame upon credit CC’s Sequitur. Explain it? I don’t think I can:
This got weird. I just wanted to showcase Woeful Willy (or Woebegone Willy, or some other name that sounds like something out of a nursery rhyme or an Edward Gorey book), but the plot has been so slow, there really wasn’t much to work with. So here we have human trafficking, always a crowd-pleaser.
What’s killing me is any explanation why a blonde kid named Willy comes from Costa Rica…the bastard offspring of a horny rain forest researcher and one of the local ladies? You heard it here first.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand...the plot thickens. Supposedly Willy’s dad lives in a city called Bos-ton. Right.
Meanwhile, June gets a little testy (yes, it’s a real word. And it’s not dirty, either.)
Will the treachery of Ted never end? His grandiose plans are falling apart — or are they? Were they a clever ruse to flim-flam the Cory clan? Oh, yeah — who cares?
Ted’s turn of phrase called up a plethora of 80s music fans at Comics Curmudgeon, no doubt distracting the moon-struck Adrian. Second only to this was the mysterious shading on Ted’s face, an unmistakable harbinger of doom (or merely pointing to the fact that Ted is a messy, messy eater). CC’s One-Eyed Wolfdog bemoaned the fact that if Ted does something weird, like change into a wolf, it had better not end up with a wolf in tweed clothing and a stupid pencil mustache.
But to paraphrase Chinatown: “Forget it, Wolfdog. It’s Charterstone.”
Wow, I’ve been wasting my short time on Earth adding to this blog for a whole year! I’d been doing mashups for some time before, but this has been a cheap fabulous way of setting them down in pixels and hoping that they’re making some folks laugh…or chuckle…or groan…or scratch their heads.
I don’t even have a mashup to commemorate Anniversary #1, but hey, June Morgan is in a bikini today, so maybe that’ll inspire me (I say “inspire,” because considering how June looks in a bikini, I think I’d just be depressed otherwise…).
Okay, I lied. Well, no, I just got inspired. And the more I looked at the first panel in the 3 April strip, the more I wondered why we can’t see ANY of June in the mirror. Of course the bathroom in her cabin is larger than any of the ones in MY HOUSE, so that could have something to do with it, but I prefer a more logical reason (a bathroom that large for the run-of-the-mill cruise guest is hardly logical, after all).
Thanks to Josh F., The Comics Curmudgeon hisself, for his great blog, and to Dean Booth, whose mashups first inspired me and continue to do so several years after discovering just how PhotoShop can be abused! (also to mr. bats :[ who puts up with these doodles and at least pretends to follow all the convoluted plot machinations in Mary Worth and Rex Morgan et al. when I start sputtering about them; True Fable ‘cuz he’s sweet; Mooncattie, who’s also sweet and doesn’t mind appearing in the occasional mashup (right?); and a whole buncha CC folks who I know drop in here!)
Let’s see, Ghost-Who-Cruises-and-Tries-to-Look-Like-Indiana-Jones is still on board a completely computerized ship with
— his steroidal children,
— a hold full of Croccos,
— the mystical Old Man Mozz, and
— a ship’s captain who is beginning to fantasize about his unspandexed ass.
I doubt that this will develop into a chick-fight with Mrs. Phantom (we can always hope), but the possibility for romance springs eternal! This might not be The Love Boat, but it’s not like the Morgan clan is batting .1000 on its little Caribbean excursion, either.