dreadedcandiru2 (dreadedcandiru2) wrote in binky_betsy,

Sunday, 3 October 2010

Today's strip reminds us Elly isn't the only Patterparent who's unable to keep up with one of their amazingly average children. I have no real sympathy for a man this weak and whiny.

(Strip Number 7095, Original Publication Date, 20 September 1981)

Panel 1: As John tucks Mike in for the night, Mike asks him if he can have a drink of water.

Panel 2: As he brings in the glass of water, John is rattled by the CRASH-THUMP-SHUFFLE sound effects coming from Mike's door.

Panel 3: When he asks him what he's doing out of bed, Mike tells John that he can't find his teddy bear.

Panel 4: John tucks Mike back in and says that No, he cannot read a book.

Panel 5: John seems astonished by Mike's panicky declaration that he wants the light on.

Panel 6: Mike's wanting to have the door open just a crack so he can feel safe elicits a reaction that shows us how little patience John has for what he sees as an endless stream of pointless demands.

Panel 7: He reminds Mike of this fact by yelling that he's HAD IT!!!!! before telling him to get to bed and that he will not tolerate one more excuse for getting up.

Panel 8: John slumps off somewhere to bitterly complain about the demon spawn who seems to have been sent from Hell to torment innocent people like himself when he hears "Daddy...."

Panel 9: "...I have to go to the bathroom."

Panel 10: We next see him in his easy chair with his eyes bugged out in the Glare of Existential Horror™ as he asks Elly to check for the grey hair that he knows to be there.

Summary: When you realize that he's so unable to cope with an incredibly average little boy whose only 'offense' that he was taking his time getting to bed that he declared said child was an unstoppable parent-tormenting machine, it's sort of hard to accept his saying that he's the injured party. What he is is a weakling who sees any sort of reminder that there are other wills besides his own as a menace to the order of things and thus not exactly what I'd call a parent. Or a husband. Or a man. (I'm serious; every time I see this, I mutter the phrase "Grow a pair, douche.") I would like to see Lynn talk about how she too felt threatened and terrified by her incredibly average children but, as fairest1 suggested, we're in for a long, rambling anecdote about her childhood; prepare to be bored and irritated as she talks about how Ursula was a stickler for a consistent bedtime.

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