Greg: It’s interesting to see how longform installment-based storytelling, like comics or TV, has transitioned from being primarily self-contained stories that one can jump into at anytime to telling one long, overarching story that one must view from beginning to end using individual units simply as content demarcators. Obviously I’m way the heck oversimplifying and generalizing, but comedies in particular have a storytelling hurdle to jump: to keep laughing at characters’ fundamental behaviors, their behaviors must remain fundamentally the same, yet in this new vanguard of serialized storytelling where folks binge lots of content in a row, we kind of demand characters to change. Slightly paradoxical, I am thus unsurprised, if just a tad disappointed, that in its second issue Bob’s Burgers seems to be going purely episodic, settling into a formula that shows just how rigidly defined this title will be. And yet, the issue is just so damn funny that I have trouble complaining too much.
Greg: Imagination, particularly as a kid, is a powerful, revealing thing. It’s your subconscious untethered, playing make-believe and laying out your attitudes and ideals in surprisingly intimate detail. When I was a kid, my friends were keen on playing the most violent versions of Dragon Ball Z and Star Wars possible — all fighting, all the time. I was more concerned with making sure the good guys stayed good and the bad guys — only if they really deserved it — got beat up and, ideally, learned their lesson. In this first issue, we get a glimpse into the fantasies and insecurities of Tina, Louise, and Gene Belcher, as Bob’s Burgers lays out three stories of imagination.