Crankshaft by Tom Batiuk and Dan Davis for October 05, 2024

What’s more unlikely than Lillian reading from Fahrenheit 451 to quell people protesting the sale of Fahrenheit 451?

Why, calling a cadre of pudgy comic book nerds at midnight to help whisk her away from any potential harm. Not the police, no. Comic book nerds.

Wasn’t the whole point of this storyline to discuss banned books at some point?

Avenjerks Assemble!!! (Yeah, I know, that’s Marvel, not DC)

Holy Revenge of the Nerds!!! (There, happy?)

To once more borrow a line from Tom Servo on MST3K’s “The Brain That Wouldn’t Die” episode, “Boss, you’ve broken the Goofy Meter again!”

Hope the send in the “Pizza Box Monster” to calm everyone down with a slice

WILLIAM DOZIER: “Meanwhile, at stately Murdoch Manor…”

She sent Mopey Pete a video? What’s he gonna do, give her a “Like?”

So no one else (including police) notices what’s going on? Not even a noise complaint to bring the men in blue out? How realistic this isn’t…

Lets not calls the police but lets calls Mopey Pete and his Mopey pals. Because it’s called calling. Bat Calling that is.

BatsApp by Bat-Ah the company formerly knowns as BatFace owned by Mark ZuckerBat. Makes a call on BatsApp. Calls your Mopey Batty pals anywhere on this planet and sends em the Bat signal. Calls anyones anywheres, except the cops that is. Na na na na na na na na na BatsApp.

Ping Ping Ping Ping! One would theenks they woulda calls Sheriff Richoshet Rabbit. But no no no no no no no nooooo. They is callings the Bat Man.

Hey, isn’t that Kyle Rittenhouse in the angry mob?

That’s right, Mind-dulled, don’t call the police. Don’t call the people who have the legal authority and firepower to quell and disperse an angry mob. No, call in a group of anti-protesters! What can go wrong?

Oh, wow. This is nuts. I bet nobody had superfriends on their Prestige arc bingo card.

Superfriend powers, activate!

I feel kind of bad now. Had no idea Batiuk was this far gone mentally. Best wishes to Tom Batiuk, his family, and his caretakers.

Police are staying back until the mob dies down.

BAT-DORKS ASSEMBLE! (Yes, I know…)

The town should be more in an uproar over Crankshaft destroying mailboxes and missing kids scheduled bus pick ups

“It sounds like Lillian’s reading parts of ‘Fahrenheit 451’ to them!!”

“Oh, well, don’t worry, they’ll be OK, that should bore them and they’ll all just pass out!”

How the heck are they going to “Save Lilian and Gramps!” against an angry mob of protesters? This ain’t no game girly.

The folks at Komix Korner can’t be bothered to leave their video game consoles…

But will help arrive in a Flash?

The crowd swarmed outside the Bookseller, voices twisted in rage. Lillian stood firm, holding Fahrenheit 451 high, the words she’d read still hanging in the air. But the mob’s anger thickened—they didn’t want to hear. Fear flickered in their eyes, masked as righteousness.

From a distance, Mindy watched, heart pounding. She grabbed her phone, panicked. “Pete, there’s an angry mob at the Bookseller. Lillian and Gramps could get hurt. I sent you a video.”

Pete moved fast. The message went out through social media, each ping like a flare in the night. He sent Bradbury’s words: “You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.” It spread through town, a quiet plea.

Lillian’s voice softened, but her resolve stayed. “You don’t have to like everything,” she called. “But burning ideas, silencing people—that’s how we lose who we are, how we lose freedom.”

The mob paused as phones lit up. Some read Pete’s message, others stood, unsure. Ed stepped forward beside Lillian. “You don’t have to agree,” he said. “But if you close off every idea that doesn’t fit your mold, you’re no better than the ones you’re fighting. We fought for freedom, not to lock it away.”

The crowd’s anger flickered, then dimmed. Some lowered their signs, the weight of their own actions sinking in.

Lillian and Ed stood strong as the mob’s fury ebbed. Not everyone was convinced, but tonight, the message had cut through.

To the Batpoles!

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