The difference between real deli bologna handled properly and some crappy store brand sitting between slices of white bread for several hours is day and night. Years of cheap warm baloney was hard to get past.
For me, it was rice. I was expected to eat a lot of overcooked sticky-crunchy rice as a kid, and I thought I hated rice. Then I had it prepared properly, and it was like an entirely different food.
The low-quality baloney was in the front. He had to spend a while explaining which he wanted, to make sure that the deli guy gave him the good-quality baloney.
It looked to me like, in the second panel, he was asking for very thick slicing. In the last panel, that’s chunks, not slices. So yeah, this isn’t your ordinary school lunch baloney.
Yea, I was thinking along the same lines as WW, but Arlo’s pointing to something right at the front of the window. Also, why would the deli guy hide the good stuff in the first place? Additionally, why would it need a great deal of explanation to get to the good stuff even if it was hidden?
I think WW has it, and I think that’s what JJ was going for, but it’s poorly executed comic.
If dvandom’s interpretation is correct, it would have been much clearer if he’d thought “years” instead of “a while”.
If WW’s interpretation is correct, I’d expect at least one of the middle two panels to be more pointing.
So far, I’m going with Stan’s last point, “it’s poorly executed comic”.
I’m more with dvandom – it’s taken him ages to enjoy proper baloney after being exposed to thin slimy tasteless faux stuff at school. As an adult, he and the deli man may be having an enthusiastic conversation but I think it is all about different types of real baloney… the school lunch stuff would be pre-sliced greyness in plastic-wrapped packs in the mass chiller cabinets, not waiting to be freshly sliced to individualistic specifications at the deli counter.
Having said that, the difference between anything left several hours (well, enough hours anyway) is day and night. (Ho ho.)
All that, and he seems to be eating it on Wonder Bread.
and he seems to be covering the taste of the authentic bologna with mustard
And he seems to have sliced those slabs right through the casing and left the casing on the on he put in the sandwich.
This is a disaster of a comic.
Pretty sure Dvandom’s got it. I haven’t had baloney for years for the same reason. I’d probably like it prepared right.
In my head, Arlo and the deli counter guy are exchanging exclamations of “Baloney!”
‘. . . good-quality baloney.’
Now there’s an oxymoron.
Plus mayo? I’m heartily a mustard guy! Chacon son gout.
“When I think back on all the lunch I ate in high school/It’s a wonder I can taste at all.” With apologies to Paul Simon
Maybe Johnson shouldn’t draw strips when he’s hungry.
Fried bologna is pretty good. If you really want fancy bologna, then mortadella is the way to go.
B.A. I’m not totally sure what’s going on in the strip, but I really enjoyed how happy Arlo looked talking about his baloney with the deli guy.
This made perfect sense to me, the first time. The baloney he got as a kid was cheap and this formed an impression on him. Now he can, and does, get the good stuff.
In the 3rd panel, why is Arlo holding his package so high? It could clear the top of the display case at a much lower level?
It looks to me like Arlo and the guy behind the counter are having a good time discussing school lunches in general, and that that conversation is what is meant by “school lunch baloney” in the 4th panel.
That is, in the 4th panel Arlo is thinking that it took so long to buy his balogna (note the spelling of the meat) because of the fun, “baloney” conversation he and the meat man had about school lunches.
“(note the spelling of the meat)”
We did. The stuff we buy from oscar meyer an smear with mayonaise and at on wonder bread is pronounced by nearly all kids as “baloney” and although I never actually disliked it, it was never consider high class or quality food and we outgrow it and simply never buy it again. Why would we when we can get better “grown-up” sandwich meat? At some time around the seventh grade we’ll realize it’s spelled “bologna” and we’re a little surprised. Then as an adult we say it in the really good Italian delis and we wonder we *anyone* would choose to have a baloney sandwich when the could have a *real* sandwich such as Coppa, or pepperoni, a pastrami, or genoa, or pancetta, or Mortadella, or …. And then sometime far too late in life, we realize that *real* bologna is legitimate and tasty and a *good* sandwich. … But we’re still a little too embarrassed to order it as we aren’t sure if we are supposed to pronounce it as “baloney” or “balonya”.
Count me in as agreeing with dvandom’s explanation in the first comment.
Also, judging by the jar of mustard in the last panel, Arlo’s using Dijon mustard (perhaps Grey Pupon). He’s not gonna use just any run-of-the-mill “fancy” mustard with this baloney!
I tell the guy behind the counter exactly what I want and how thickly I want it sliced, and I always get what I ask for without incident.
Maybe I need to have a talk with Arlo, because he’s clearly doing something wrong.
B.A.: The problem could be the guy behind the counter, not Arlo.
There’s a grocery store that I’ve tried to get deli meat from twice in the last two months. The first time, it took 15-20 minutes to get three types of deli meat, and the ham that I had asked to be sliced thick for sandwiches (holding my fingers about a quarter of an inch apart), was just a single slab, one inch think. The second time, I asked in the same way, and my ham was paper thin (i.e. you could easily poke your finger through it). I assume the problem is the people behind the counter, rather than my poor communications skills, because I’m able to get what I ask for without incident at every other grocery store.
According to American philosopher Moe Howard, “If there’s anything I like better than honey and ketchup, it’s bologna and whipped cream—and we haven’t got any!”
Now see, I interpreted this completely differently. “Get past the school lunch baloney” = “Make up some story about this being for my kid’s bag-lunch for school, when in fact I am going to eat it myself,” with a bit of a pune or play on words with homonym baloney (B.S.) and bologna (a type of lunch meat).
*homonyms, dagnabbit.
Is it possible the casing in the last panel is the colorist’s mistake?
“The problem could be the guy behind the counter, not Arlo”
@Winter, Arlo seems to be enjoying himself. To an unnatural degree, in fact.
Besides, if the guy behind the counter can’t handle simple bologna-cutting instructions, what’s he doing there?
“Besides, if the guy behind the counter can’t handle simple bologna-cutting instructions, what’s he doing there?”
Slicing my ham paper thin. :(
@Pinny: “In the 3rd panel, why is Arlo holding his package so high? It could clear the top of the display case at a much lower level?”
What, your church doesn’t practice The Rite of the Elevation of the Holy Baloney on Good Deli Friday?
(I think it’s just an analogy to athletes holding winners’ trophies over their head — “Hey, World, see what I’VE done! Hoorah for me!”)
There was a deli near my grandparents’ house on the south side of Pittsburgh that had a specialty called “chipped ham”. The stuff was so thin that it wasn’t possible to pick it up in “slices”, it was more like an amorphous mass. Everyone in my family (including me) liked it, but I’ve never seen it anywhere else.
@Kilby
I worked in deli in the Delaware Valley when I was in high school. I sliced my share of chipped ham, so it does exist beyond Pittsburg.
I discovered a really good bologna in my 50s. It is sold at the deli as a German brand bologna and it is good. Get it sliced about a quarter inch thick and a nice slice of cheddar on whole wheat and you have a lunch worthy of a king. I didn’t eat it from the time I got to about 30 and we could afford not to eat the cheap stuff fried for supper. Being young and poor you eat a lot of crap just to get by.
Bologna is not something I would eat as a child or now (I have always been a picky eater, although my mom does remember being so – the blessing of having one’s mom coming up on 90).
But that, said, I don’t remember them having bologna for lunch in school. While after the excitement of buying my lunch (by giving the teacher the weekly envelope from mom with a list of which lunches I wanted and then I got a ticket on the way to lunch to give the lunch lady) I quickly stopped buying lunch and brought my half a peanut butter sandwich, no bones (crusts) daily for the rest of first grade through 8th grade (and then I stopped eating lunch), I do remember the choice for lunch was the exact lunch as offered by the school (meeting the Federal guidelines) with no choice or deviation and I would bring home the menu monthly – and bologna was never on it as there were no sandwiches,with the possible exception of grilled cheese. Robert, though, insists at his school one could get a second main course. I stopped eating the school lunch as I got tired of fighting with the lunch lady over what I was not eating – salad with dressing (without the dressing I would have eaten it) and dessert – yes, one has to eat the entire meal including dessert, even though I would explain that my parents said that dessert was only for dinner and only rarely, so no one is suppose to eat dessert at lunch and since it is not good for you, why are you making me eat it? (Yes, I was that annoying a child.)
I don’t recall ever getting cold cuts for lunch in school. I’m sure that would have been more popular than some of the meals they did have. Most were cooked in some fashion, although there some cold sandwiches.
Methinks the only cold cuts in the cafeteria were those brought in from home.
Comics I Don't Understand 
The difference between real deli bologna handled properly and some crappy store brand sitting between slices of white bread for several hours is day and night. Years of cheap warm baloney was hard to get past.
For me, it was rice. I was expected to eat a lot of overcooked sticky-crunchy rice as a kid, and I thought I hated rice. Then I had it prepared properly, and it was like an entirely different food.
The low-quality baloney was in the front. He had to spend a while explaining which he wanted, to make sure that the deli guy gave him the good-quality baloney.
It looked to me like, in the second panel, he was asking for very thick slicing. In the last panel, that’s chunks, not slices. So yeah, this isn’t your ordinary school lunch baloney.
Yea, I was thinking along the same lines as WW, but Arlo’s pointing to something right at the front of the window. Also, why would the deli guy hide the good stuff in the first place? Additionally, why would it need a great deal of explanation to get to the good stuff even if it was hidden?
I think WW has it, and I think that’s what JJ was going for, but it’s poorly executed comic.
If dvandom’s interpretation is correct, it would have been much clearer if he’d thought “years” instead of “a while”.
If WW’s interpretation is correct, I’d expect at least one of the middle two panels to be more pointing.
So far, I’m going with Stan’s last point, “it’s poorly executed comic”.
I’m more with dvandom – it’s taken him ages to enjoy proper baloney after being exposed to thin slimy tasteless faux stuff at school. As an adult, he and the deli man may be having an enthusiastic conversation but I think it is all about different types of real baloney… the school lunch stuff would be pre-sliced greyness in plastic-wrapped packs in the mass chiller cabinets, not waiting to be freshly sliced to individualistic specifications at the deli counter.
Having said that, the difference between anything left several hours (well, enough hours anyway) is day and night. (Ho ho.)
All that, and he seems to be eating it on Wonder Bread.
and he seems to be covering the taste of the authentic bologna with mustard
And he seems to have sliced those slabs right through the casing and left the casing on the on he put in the sandwich.
This is a disaster of a comic.
Pretty sure Dvandom’s got it. I haven’t had baloney for years for the same reason. I’d probably like it prepared right.
In my head, Arlo and the deli counter guy are exchanging exclamations of “Baloney!”
‘. . . good-quality baloney.’
Now there’s an oxymoron.
Plus mayo? I’m heartily a mustard guy! Chacon son gout.
“When I think back on all the lunch I ate in high school/It’s a wonder I can taste at all.” With apologies to Paul Simon
Maybe Johnson shouldn’t draw strips when he’s hungry.
Fried bologna is pretty good. If you really want fancy bologna, then mortadella is the way to go.
B.A. I’m not totally sure what’s going on in the strip, but I really enjoyed how happy Arlo looked talking about his baloney with the deli guy.
This made perfect sense to me, the first time. The baloney he got as a kid was cheap and this formed an impression on him. Now he can, and does, get the good stuff.
In the 3rd panel, why is Arlo holding his package so high? It could clear the top of the display case at a much lower level?
It looks to me like Arlo and the guy behind the counter are having a good time discussing school lunches in general, and that that conversation is what is meant by “school lunch baloney” in the 4th panel.
That is, in the 4th panel Arlo is thinking that it took so long to buy his balogna (note the spelling of the meat) because of the fun, “baloney” conversation he and the meat man had about school lunches.
“(note the spelling of the meat)”
We did. The stuff we buy from oscar meyer an smear with mayonaise and at on wonder bread is pronounced by nearly all kids as “baloney” and although I never actually disliked it, it was never consider high class or quality food and we outgrow it and simply never buy it again. Why would we when we can get better “grown-up” sandwich meat? At some time around the seventh grade we’ll realize it’s spelled “bologna” and we’re a little surprised. Then as an adult we say it in the really good Italian delis and we wonder we *anyone* would choose to have a baloney sandwich when the could have a *real* sandwich such as Coppa, or pepperoni, a pastrami, or genoa, or pancetta, or Mortadella, or …. And then sometime far too late in life, we realize that *real* bologna is legitimate and tasty and a *good* sandwich. … But we’re still a little too embarrassed to order it as we aren’t sure if we are supposed to pronounce it as “baloney” or “balonya”.
Count me in as agreeing with dvandom’s explanation in the first comment.
Also, judging by the jar of mustard in the last panel, Arlo’s using Dijon mustard (perhaps Grey Pupon). He’s not gonna use just any run-of-the-mill “fancy” mustard with this baloney!
I tell the guy behind the counter exactly what I want and how thickly I want it sliced, and I always get what I ask for without incident.
Maybe I need to have a talk with Arlo, because he’s clearly doing something wrong.
B.A.: The problem could be the guy behind the counter, not Arlo.
There’s a grocery store that I’ve tried to get deli meat from twice in the last two months. The first time, it took 15-20 minutes to get three types of deli meat, and the ham that I had asked to be sliced thick for sandwiches (holding my fingers about a quarter of an inch apart), was just a single slab, one inch think. The second time, I asked in the same way, and my ham was paper thin (i.e. you could easily poke your finger through it). I assume the problem is the people behind the counter, rather than my poor communications skills, because I’m able to get what I ask for without incident at every other grocery store.
According to American philosopher Moe Howard, “If there’s anything I like better than honey and ketchup, it’s bologna and whipped cream—and we haven’t got any!”
Now see, I interpreted this completely differently. “Get past the school lunch baloney” = “Make up some story about this being for my kid’s bag-lunch for school, when in fact I am going to eat it myself,” with a bit of a pune or play on words with homonym baloney (B.S.) and bologna (a type of lunch meat).
*homonyms, dagnabbit.
Is it possible the casing in the last panel is the colorist’s mistake?
“The problem could be the guy behind the counter, not Arlo”
@Winter, Arlo seems to be enjoying himself. To an unnatural degree, in fact.
Besides, if the guy behind the counter can’t handle simple bologna-cutting instructions, what’s he doing there?
“Besides, if the guy behind the counter can’t handle simple bologna-cutting instructions, what’s he doing there?”
Slicing my ham paper thin. :(
@Pinny: “In the 3rd panel, why is Arlo holding his package so high? It could clear the top of the display case at a much lower level?”
What, your church doesn’t practice The Rite of the Elevation of the Holy Baloney on Good Deli Friday?
(I think it’s just an analogy to athletes holding winners’ trophies over their head — “Hey, World, see what I’VE done! Hoorah for me!”)
There was a deli near my grandparents’ house on the south side of Pittsburgh that had a specialty called “chipped ham”. The stuff was so thin that it wasn’t possible to pick it up in “slices”, it was more like an amorphous mass. Everyone in my family (including me) liked it, but I’ve never seen it anywhere else.
@Kilby
I worked in deli in the Delaware Valley when I was in high school. I sliced my share of chipped ham, so it does exist beyond Pittsburg.
I discovered a really good bologna in my 50s. It is sold at the deli as a German brand bologna and it is good. Get it sliced about a quarter inch thick and a nice slice of cheddar on whole wheat and you have a lunch worthy of a king. I didn’t eat it from the time I got to about 30 and we could afford not to eat the cheap stuff fried for supper. Being young and poor you eat a lot of crap just to get by.
Bologna is not something I would eat as a child or now (I have always been a picky eater, although my mom does remember being so – the blessing of having one’s mom coming up on 90).
But that, said, I don’t remember them having bologna for lunch in school. While after the excitement of buying my lunch (by giving the teacher the weekly envelope from mom with a list of which lunches I wanted and then I got a ticket on the way to lunch to give the lunch lady) I quickly stopped buying lunch and brought my half a peanut butter sandwich, no bones (crusts) daily for the rest of first grade through 8th grade (and then I stopped eating lunch), I do remember the choice for lunch was the exact lunch as offered by the school (meeting the Federal guidelines) with no choice or deviation and I would bring home the menu monthly – and bologna was never on it as there were no sandwiches,with the possible exception of grilled cheese. Robert, though, insists at his school one could get a second main course. I stopped eating the school lunch as I got tired of fighting with the lunch lady over what I was not eating – salad with dressing (without the dressing I would have eaten it) and dessert – yes, one has to eat the entire meal including dessert, even though I would explain that my parents said that dessert was only for dinner and only rarely, so no one is suppose to eat dessert at lunch and since it is not good for you, why are you making me eat it? (Yes, I was that annoying a child.)
I don’t recall ever getting cold cuts for lunch in school. I’m sure that would have been more popular than some of the meals they did have. Most were cooked in some fashion, although there some cold sandwiches.
Methinks the only cold cuts in the cafeteria were those brought in from home.