Kurt Snibbe pulls me back in for one last entry in the Favre Frenzy. Apparently it's the Judgment of Passive (that's like the one in The Iliad, only less French) that the Peter King article wasn't egregious enough to rip to shreds. OK then, let's look at this shitty cartoonist who delivers unfunny, poorly drawn tripe for ESPN.com. I honestly have no idea what the appeal of his work is supposed to be, and I'm the angry sports blogger who is also a massive comics geek.
But, if nothing else, making fun of him gives me an opportunity to try something a little experimental, namely making fun of pictures instead of just words. I'd say I'm excited...ah, fuck it, I'm really excited. I don't care if that sounds pathetic.
Also, to remind you why comics can, in fact, be totally fucking awesome, I think I'll throw in a rebuttal link after every panel to a vaguely relevant page on the venerable Superdickery. Basically, this is my apology for wasting twelve pages worth of text on Ray Ratto. I hope you enjoy.
A solid premise for a sports comic, I guess. But you know what would have been a better premise? This fucking premise.
I don't have too much to say just yet, but I do think Kurt is undervaluing Deanna Favre a little. Let's take a look...
I'm sure the Dreamboat wouldn't give her a second glance, but we're not exactly talking about Brenda Warner here. C'mon dude, comics are supposed to be an outlet for perverts everywhere to ogle women ludicrously unrealistic in their beauty and cup size (as though there's a difference). Even those prudes back in the 40s knew that.
Dude, "Final answer"? Was...was that a Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reference? I'm sorry, did it become the late nineties again and nobody told me? And does that mean shit like this is cool again?
From what I've seen, the more ducks we can kill, the better off we'll all be. So I say ducks. Fucking homicidal bastards that would kill and/or exterminate humanity without a second thought if we gave them even the slightest opportunity, the lot of them. Also I'm really bothered by talking animals wearing a shirt and no pants. I mean, WHERE'S THEIR PENIS!?
Now that you know for a fact that I'm insane, I think I can move on.
Look, Kurt, do you know why Brett Favre took painkillers? It's not because he couldn't handle the pain. Complete fucking opposite, dude. That was all just a little white lie he told so that sissies like you wouldn't thave to deal with the truth. He took those bad boys all during the week so that come the weekend and it had gotten out his system, he'd feel every hit like he was being hit for the very first time by a train made out of bear-traps that was exploding in a volcano. Because that's the only way Brett could ever know he was a real fucking man. So I think he can handle a little fucking caffeine, don't you?
Besides, he should probably just leave it up to the barista. From what I've read, coffee boys can be pretty sharp.
I actually think Brett's confused there not by the question but because apparently he lost all of his hair in the space of one panel. Although comics aren't always known for being especially accurate in matters of anatomy.
Yeah, like anybody in Mississippi is going to tell Brett Favre to move the fuck along. He could probably just ask to buy the store and they'd give him the keys. The same's true in Wisconsin, although the owner would also let him fuck his wife first. Not that he'd want to, but still.
Not that Brett Favre should be careless with his money. You just never know when some guy is going to swoop in to take it all away.
I would have thought unleaded is an easy choice here, considering it's, you know, without lead, but then I checked in with my boy Wikipedia:
The Material Safety Data Sheet for unleaded gasoline shows at least fifteen hazardous chemicals occurring in various amounts. These include benzene (up to 5% by volume), toluene (up to 35% by volume), naphthalene (up to 1% by volume), trimethylbenzene (up to 7% by volume), MTBE (up to 18% by volume) and about 10 others.
So yeah, I don't know what the fuck to think. Also, shouldn't Brett be driving his beloved tractor? Or maybe this baby? Because I'm pretty sure those run on ethanol.
How the fuck is that a difficult decision? On one you spend way too much time with a bunch of self-serious, pompous buffoons who have no idea what they're doing...and the other is Dancing with the Stars. Besides, hasn't Emmitt Smith already shown us pretty conclusively which of those is easier?
I have no obvious associations to go on here, so I'll just link to this. You're welcome.
The upcoming joke is apparently so good that Kurt is devoting two entire panels to it. Let's see where he goes with this. I'll do the same by showing you the first of two panels in the evolution of Rex the Wonder-Dog.
That's...that's it!? Dude, Michael Jordan might have a tiny gambling problem and almost certainly has ordered Charles Oakley to kill people, but he's still one of the most respected athletes around. Roger Clemens is a disgraced moron who doesn't even understand the proper method of lying to Congress. He's a good comedy reference. But Michael Jordan? Between this and the Millionaire thing, I honestly think you filed this back in 2004, when the main association that people have with Jordan and Clemens is that they constantly unretire. Which yeah, I get is supposed to be the punchline and everything. But dude, current events have totally drowned that reference out.
You want payoff on build-up? How's this for fucking payoff? Or this? Or THIS!?
Is that supposed to be a veiled reference to the painkillers thing? Because that might actually be the funniest part of the comic if that's true. But honestly, I'm just utterly befuddled by this weird collection of hacky cliches you try to pass off as jokes. And I've seen this, so I know befuddlement.