KitKat is right. The only differences in the standard male characters are age and hair color. Except, of course, for Wilbur and Ian, who are the obligatory comic grotesques.
A few years ago, Mary was psychoanalyzing a young doctor, and I was positive it was Jeff's son, Dr. Drew (the twit). Turns out it was someone else entirely, just with black hair and a similar commitment phobia.
At the rate at which Terry's emotional maturity is slipping, he's going to have to win her a pacifier at the next booth.
Seriously, everybody knew that this creepy stalker was going to win her heart, because that's the only ending Moy understands. But does Terry have to become an absolute infant in the process?
This woman, who trained with Adam so that they both were extreme athletes and went on dangerous missions now has to have a manly man win her an ugly stuffed puppy? Wouldn't it at least have made sense for him to buy her the the chance to win it herself?
The only hope for this plot is if at the next booth she decides to win him something. So she pays for the chance to hit balloons with darts, but suddenly recognizes the booth owner as an old nemesis and pins him to his own backboard with the darts.
Please, Moy, please? Psssst! Joe, even if Moy doesn't plan it that way, you can put something like this in your drawings. It's time to rebel! We hate to see you reduced to this kind of drivel.
6 comments:
Terry: Oh, I know! How about some ice cream?
Adam: Now you're talking!
...and yet another opportunity for PLOT DEVELOPMENT of any kind is missed.
I agree with you, Wanders. None of us will need ipecac syrup because this story line is nauseating enough as is.
Does anyone else think that Adam bears a striking resemblance to Dr. Jeff? A bit less gray, but another roller coaster ride should take care of that.
KitKat is right. The only differences in the standard male characters are age and hair color. Except, of course, for Wilbur and Ian, who are the obligatory comic grotesques.
A few years ago, Mary was psychoanalyzing a young doctor, and I was positive it was Jeff's son, Dr. Drew (the twit). Turns out it was someone else entirely, just with black hair and a similar commitment phobia.
My comment is self-redacted because I absolutely respect the family friendly nature of this blog.
That said, blech!
Looks like Adam's Grecian Hair Formula has worn off because of his heavy sweating to win that mangy mutt. Look out Terry, he's older than he looks.
At the rate at which Terry's emotional maturity is slipping, he's going to have to win her a pacifier at the next booth.
Seriously, everybody knew that this creepy stalker was going to win her heart, because that's the only ending Moy understands. But does Terry have to become an absolute infant in the process?
This woman, who trained with Adam so that they both were extreme athletes and went on dangerous missions now has to have a manly man win her an ugly stuffed puppy? Wouldn't it at least have made sense for him to buy her the the chance to win it herself?
The only hope for this plot is if at the next booth she decides to win him something. So she pays for the chance to hit balloons with darts, but suddenly recognizes the booth owner as an old nemesis and pins him to his own backboard with the darts.
Please, Moy, please? Psssst! Joe, even if Moy doesn't plan it that way, you can put something like this in your drawings. It's time to rebel! We hate to see you reduced to this kind of drivel.
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