Kara said she needed to talk to somebody. I guess she was just being methodical deciding who it was she’d talk to?
What’s nice, of course, is that the last person she decided to talk to is an expert in such things, and had wine. It would have been difficult on Kara to have to circle back to someone else as the best choice.
Or start talking to utter strangers, hoping that they had wine. THOSE conversations get weird.
Lowell has learned a lesson about rivalry. It can be fun and spirited, or it can be mean-spirited.
Lowell started out, quite a while ago, thinking it had to be the latter.
Now, he must feel differently. I honestly don’t think he dumped Paste on his head out of mean-spiritedness. I think it was done in fun.
Surely Paste will feel the same.
That Mal. He got so caught up in winning.
That Lowell. I’m wondering if he didn’t throw the match when he saw that Mal was buying the one-sided bet.
… It’s not Lowell’s hundred, anyhow.
Paste isn’t the sort of person to make a goofy bet. He’s more the ‘tails I win, heads you lose’ kind of gambler. And what sort of maniac makes the lunatic bet himself when there’s a patsy around to send in for you?
Also, Mal thinks the big end of the stick is just for counterbalance. You have earned my admiration if you realized that’s what was going on.
When you have to have a conversation that you don’t want to have, you know someone’s gonna butt in. And if that person can move his arms and legs around, I mean, dang! Some people, right?
Douglas Adams wrote his character Zaphod Beeblebrox as someone who kept people wondering if he were clever and pretending to be stupid, or stupid and pretending to be clever. It was more elaborate than that, of course, but I’m not sure Paste is more elaborate than that.
Play it close to the vest, guys. Keep the other players in the game guessing.
Imagine having a job where you just think of insanely weird things to do and then put them on the internet to see what happens next.
Paste seems to think that’s his job. He’s probably right.
He thinks, “I bet a lot of people are taking video at the finish line. What if I were to ride past them naked? Would I get a lot of views? Let’s find out!” Aaaaand he lets people pass him in the race while he ditches his britches. The race standings? Bah! How many people are gonna click on a video of a filthy guy running through the finish line? A thousand? Three thousand? Fine. How many are going to click on, view, re-view, and then re-post a video of a little lunatic pedaling bare in a crowd of startled racers? Hmmm. Not good enough. Better do a war cry, pedal no-handed, and make either gang signs, rude gestures, or a self-deprecating hand sign while being video’d. Yeah. Better.
Too bad the Sharpie Tattoos wore off a while back.
I don’t think that Lowell will get to count that as his goal-attaining jump.
You don’t want ALL your dreams to come true, do you?
Gotta leave something to strive for. That means either you gotta keep adding in better dreams as ones come true, or you gotta plump up the ones you got.
Like “I’d like to be an Air Force pilot” might, upon realizing that you’re about to earn your wings, become “I’ma be an astronaut, you know. Someday soon.”
Tend those dreams, folks!!
My dream was to do syndicated comic strips. I’ve had to modify here and there.
One of my favorite old comic strips was Dennis The Menace.
I remember one gag where Dennis and Joey are looking over a disemboweled machine and Dennis tells Joey (who’s holding out a hammer) “You can’t fix no alarm clock with a big ol’ hammer! Bring me a little hammer.”
I don’t really have a point to make about that except Hank Ketcham was funny, and it’s gonna take a big hammer to get Lowell’s wagon rolling again.
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