History Repeating

The semi-retired Lynn Johnston has pushed her strip halfway into its cryogenic chamber, freezing the cast at their current ages while allowing them to reminisce ad nauseum about their "best of" moments. And what's among the first things of which we're reminded?

That nobody in the Foobiverse knows anything about birth control!

I never knew that Michael Patterson was a "surprise." But his younger sister, late-in-life baby April, certainly wasn't planned. And Michael's spawn were both "whoops" events, even though his spouse is a pharmacist who has at least heard of barrier methods. (Liz Patterson may be the product of an early experiment in in vitro fertilization, but don't quote me on that.)

Johnston's depiction of reproduction in modern marriage strikes me as a tad creepy. The husbands are seed-slinging doofuses who don't have a clue that they might actually, well, mate with their mates. The women are either lazy/forgetful or downright manipulative. None of these couples seem to have sat down and actually discussed family planning.

Oh, wait, Granthony browbeat Therese into producing a daughter to bless their spite-filled union. And we all know how well that turned out.

Cancelled Check

What's wrong with this picture? Not much.

You know your comic strip has run off the rails when the parody of it is only slightly more ridiculous than the original.

What's really interesting is the way Johnston is desperately attempting to ret-con her Foobs. Granthony's hilarious pornstache? All his evil wife's idea!

Here's a prime example of a writer losing control of her characters and forcing them to behave irrationally. You can find my musings about this situation at my other blog.

What the Heck I've Been Doing for the Past Three Weeks

Sorry for dropping out of sight so abruptly. I had my reasons.
1. Took a trip to New England
It had been more than a year since I last saw my parents in Portsmouth, NH, so we were overdue for a visit. All in all, it was a good trip, with plenty of opportunities for communing with family and friends. Managed to do most of the things that traditionally define a trip back home for me: swam at Wallis Sands beach, bought taffy at The Goldenrod, bought tax-free shoes from my pal Bert at George & Phillips, played skee-ball at York Beach's Fun O Rama (Nothing guarantees a good time like the syllables "O Rama."), ate seafood at Warren's Lobster House, ate lobster rolls prepared by my mother, ate Italian sandwiches from Moe's, played carpet golf in 90-degree heat (not really recommended) and strolled Portsmouth's scenic downtown.

2. Saw "The Simpsons Movie"
The rest of the world has made up its mind by now, but I thought it was perfectly fine. Not mind-blowingly brilliant, but solidly constructed and executed. For some reason, though, the folks at the CAP Movie Ministry don't agree with that opinion.

3. Spent way too much time fixing a glitch in my DVD drive
All I wanted to do was watch the third season of "Deadwood" without my kids having to hear profanity spewing out of the living room speakers. So I took the disc upstairs to the computer, only to begin spewing profanity myself when nothing would work as it should. Three days of posting frantic notes on the Dell tech forum and downloading various drivers and diagnostics finally did the trick. Cripes.

4. Suddenly realized that a new Chronicle book review was past due
But now it's done and submitted to my grateful editors. Look for coverage of "A Good and Happy Child," "Bad Monkeys" and "Crooked Little Vein" on August 19.

5. Was physically nauseated by the month-long Foob Wedding Flashback

Seriously, do any sexually functioning people in their twenties go romping around a country club and spout drippy declarations of mild affection like Granthony and Liz? No, usually there's some liquor involved, and reunited couples wind up thrashing around in the shrubbery in various states of undress to the horrified amusement of their less-drunk friends. Good thing Granthony already has a child. Now Liz can avoid the messy reality of reproduction and never have to sabotage her partner's birth control plans like her sister-in-law did.

More catch up later!

GAAHHH!

Get me to the eye-wash station, stat!

We all knew this day was coming, but did Johnston have to spoil Independence Day for us Americans? The barbecue, the fireworks, the interminable pops concert from D.C. with two-fifths of the original Beach Boys -- they've all been ruined by the Love That No One Wants to Name.

If you need an antidote to Granthony mackin' on Liz, check out the re-mix of the "Shannon Takes a Stand" saga. UPDATE: Sorry, but "Shannon Takes a Stand" has been shut down by The Man, or more accurately, by a polite-but-firm letter from the official FBofW Web developer.

Mustache-Bereft Granthony: The Face of Fear!

Sweet sainted mother of Mordecai Richler, has Granthony shaved off his pornstache AND undergone a spur-of-the-moment nosejob? All the "For Better or For Worse" pundits have an opinion.

The train wreck, she is a'-coming.

The (Granthony) Cain Mutiny

I’m telling you, Lynn Johnston is evil, man. She’s toying with us as she brings her saga of unconsummated Canadian lust to its inevitable and depressing conclusion.

Yesterday, Liz announced her plan to allow Granthony to squire her to an upcoming wedding. Today, Granthony scotches that idea by letting Liz know that he has invited someone else. In your face, Lizardbreath!

Unfortunately, we all know that this will not turn out to be a major obstacle in their path to true, tepid romance. Granthony’s “date” will turn out to be his daughter or his mom or his cousin Hortense from Manitoba. But wouldn’t it be great if he brought someone truly inappropriate, like a dirty “roadside” slut (i.e. any single woman interested in premarital sex), a transvestite “escort” or even a chimp on rollerskates? We can only dream…

Liz Patterson always desperately wants what she’s told she can’t have, so this smackdown from Mustache Boy will only intensify her ardor.

I want to look away, but I can’t.

All Hail Lio

"Lio" by MarkTatulli is a pantomime strip that took the place of "Foxtrot" in the daily San Francisco Chronicle. I've been impressed by its Calvin-and-Hobbesian mixture of childhood concerns and fantasy. Today, though, it has made me a true fan.

Does Tatulli have something to say about Liz and Granthony? Oh yeah...

More Pathetic Foobery

Lynn Johnston is working my last nerve by bringing together the Granthony and the Michael-the-Novelist subplots in "For Better or For Worse." For those not obsessed with the banal-yet-totally-unrealistic adventures of four middle-brow, middle-class Ontarioans(?), dutiful son Michael just abruptly quit his full-time job at a major magazine because he didn't have the managerial stones to downsize one of his underlings. Now he's going to write full-time and live off the $25,000 advance for his first novel.

Good luck paying those freelance writer health insurance premiums was my first thought. Then I remembered that some things are actually better north of the border and shut my trap.

Over on the official "FBofW" Web site, Johnston lists the front-runners in the race to find a title for Michael's book. (Thanks, Comics Curmudgeon!) Prayrie? The Soddy? Let Me Be Judged by God? What in the name of all that's good and sensible is Jonhston thinking? Is she just sadistically toying with us?

Could well be, given how she's proceeding with the Liz/Granthony pairing. Liz learned about her brother's new employment situation upon her return from the trial of would-be-rapist Howard Bunt, where Granthony sat supportively throughout the proceedings.

Is it just me, or doesn't Howard look disturbingly like a disgruntled Larry "Second Stooge" Fine? And is that Kim Jong-il leading him away on the right?

This strip just gets weirder and more foobish as Johnston gets ready for semi-retirement.

And Now I Also Hate Michael Patterson

First the Granthony Debacle, and now this. Has Lynn Johnston started huffing oven cleaner or something?

Like the Great Wall of China, the plot turns in "For Better or for Worse" are clearly visible from outer space. We all knew that eternal-good-boy Michael Patterson would sell the "novel" he's been working on between toddler wrangling and battling the boorish Kelpfroths downstairs. But did it have to happen in the most unrealistic and ludicrous manner possible?

I feel confident that no writer in the entire history of publishing has sent an unagented, unsolicited manuscript (one rescued from a devastating house fire, no less) to a single publisher and a month later received a contract for $25,000. $25K in CANADIAN dollars, but still...

It never works like that. Never. To believe otherwise is the height of cluelessness. Ms. Johnson, watch your step, because it's a mighty long drop.

If this were "Get Fuzzy," I wouldn't mind. If Satchel (or, hell, even Bucky Kat) somehow wangled a three-book deal for an insane wad of cash, I'd think that was awesome. But "FbofW" pretends to take place in the real world. I don't expect to see Granthony gored by a unicorn (though I wouldn't complain), and I can't swallow that Michael Patterson could sell his first attempt at a novel, especially if it reads like any of these horrible letters.

You can foob some of the people some of the time, but you can't foob all of them all of the time.

Scalzi Love, Granthony Hatred & StoppardMania!

The number of daily visits to this site has skyrocketed into the double digits over the past few weeks, and a quick perusal of the logs reveals that three topics in particular are responsible for this heady up-tick in popularity.

I kinda knew that by featuring John Scalzi's "The Android's Dream" as the inaugural Book I'm Not Reading I might attract a few devoted readers from his popular site, The Whatever. That John used my entry as an excuse for an extended riff on his book's feelings of low self-esteem only sweetened the deal.

For quite a while, Cheaper Ironies has been Google's top search choice for the Winnipeg StoppardFest. Now that the fest is well underway (here's a review of its production of "The Real Thing."), it looks as if the fresh stream of Stoppard enthusiastics may continue into February. Hurray! And too bad for you if you didn't get your $59 all-you-can-eat StoppardPass, because they're all gone!

What truly surprised me, though, was the amount of traffic generated by my entry about Granthony, Liz Patterson's creepy erstwhile boyfriend. Whew, there are a lot of Anthony Cain haters out there! Given the way Lynn Johnston demolished both of Granthony's romantic rivals in one fell swoop this week, they're probably even more incensed.

Thanks, Granthony! Cheaper Ironies salutes your feckless neediness and twerpitude. Keep sending your detractors thisaway!

Portrait of Anthony Cain (c) Lynn Johnston Productions Inc.

I Hate Granthony, Too

I spend a good part of my day staring at the various components of a daily newspaper, and perhaps I invest too much mental energy in keeping track of the on-going four-panel slice of mundanity that is Lynn Johnston's "For Better or for Worse." But I really can't help myself. I've been reading the strip for at least 20 years now and have weathered Farley's heroic death, Lawrence's coming-out, Michael's marriage to Deanna the Pharmacist Who Never Figured Out Birth Control and Grandpa Jim's stroke. The Pattersons are like family -- strange, passive-aggressive Canadian family.

Johnston is heading into semi-retirement, though, and she seems to be tying up a lot of loose ends, in not exactly the most subtle way possible. Chief among her concerns is the question of which eligible bachelor will Elizabeth Patterson choose as her life-mate. All evidence suggests that Johnston intends to have her wind up not with the devil-may-care helicopter pilot, not with the studly police officer from the arctic wilderness, but with her high school flame Anthony, the schlubby divorced accountant who lives in her hometown, has full custody of his pre-school daughter and enjoys amateur astronomy.

Shaenon K. Garrity has posted a brilliant and impassioned essay about why the Liz/Anthony match is so very wrong and infuriating. I can't think of anything to add. "Attaboys" go out to the Comics Curmudgeon for bringing Shaenon's rant to my attention.