The insurance company insists that, instead of jumping straight into costly life-saving measures, they first exhaust cheaper conservative treatment: like having a dinner party.
That is sweet effort by you, but I am afraid it is impossible to convince the nasty people to stop criticizing the poor snarkers, whose only “crime” is that they love the strip so much that they can’t stand how badly Batiuk is treating it.
Ah! So we are setting up a feel-good heaven scene where Dead St. Lisa congratulates Dead Timmy for guiding Crankshaft to find and return this videotape to Ralph (while Dead Phil Holt hovers in the background saying “Wait! I thought I was supposed to be alive!”).
We don’t know. And he doesn’t remember.