Tag Archives: Cayla

Golden Years

Link to today’s strip.

Sunday’s strip is generally not available for preview, so here are a couple of thoughts until it goes live.  (I’m thinking it has been a while since we had a comic book “tribute,” myself.  I’m told, though, that we’ve got more Les on the way.)

For those of you who see the title and think David Bowie, well, here you go.

There’s been a lot of speculation here, especially during the last week, as to exactly what Tom Batiuk is up to.  We had six solid days of a “joke” that could have told itself in two, tops.  Why?

Well, I have a possible theory.  I think he wants that golden year.  I think he wants Funky Winkerbean to last for fifty years, so he can say he had a strip that reached that landmark.  Peanuts lasted for fifty years, Dick Tracy lasted for fifty years, The Far Side lasted for fifty years…that’s the only reason anyone talks about those strips, which are way inferior to mine.  So if get to fifty, I will enter the pantheon of the greats.

So, how does he reach that magic date?  By s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g these pitifully weak story arcs way past the breaking point, and having them haul more panels than their recommended load capacity.  You could hear them straining and buckling all last week, and I’m sure they’ve still got a week’s work to go starting tomorrow.  If you can stretch two days of “story” into two weeks, that Golden Anniversary is yours, baby!

This is not the first time this strip has had a space oddity or two–there’s plenty of sound and vision evidence.  From Funky always crashing in the same car, ending up in a Moonage daydream, to Wally living life on Mars while suffering panic in Detroit.  Just recently, Les had the chance to start a new career in a new town with all the young dudes, leading to fame, fashion and maybe even modern love (though not in a creepy way). However, thanks to the harassment of Le Chat Bleu (his laughing gnome), he rejected the changes and became one of the heroes.  He learned the heart’s filthy lesson, rejected those scary monsters, and chose not to become the man who sold the world.

All of this should have taken about the same time it takes to listen to a “Greatest Hits” album.  Instead, it deadheaded on for months and months.   That ought to be enough evidence that Tom Batiuk’s not doing it for the “art” anymore, he’s doing it for the “history.”  The last story I remember here that was even half-assed was when Pete met Flash Gordon; there seemed to be a little bit of engagement on the part of the author.  Everything I can recall since has been assless; I’m not even aware if there are any fully-assed stories.  One suspects not.

All I can say is, there’s a song that fits this perfectly.  I forget who made the song, but the chorus goes like this:

“Ashes to ashes, funk to Funky
We know Major Tom’s a junkie
Strung out in heaven’s high
Hitting an all-time low…”

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D.U.H.H.

Link to today’s strip.

Greetings, folks, BChasm back in the slammer.    You might notice there’s actually a teeny, tiny bit of humor in today’s episode.   (Oh, our visiting character isn’t named in the strip, so I’m going to call him Dolt McMoron just for reference.)

Well, Dolt’s school is called “Diversity University Ironton,” which has got to be a hard way to introduce yourself.  But notice on his shirt!  Here’s the teeny, tiny humor!  Get ready…see, the initials of his awkward institution spell out “D.U.I.”!  As in “Driving under the influence.”  Which is, as well all know, Bull’s shtick–he’s always drinking, carousing, partying without bounds, even during school hours–all while driving.  His antics disrupt Les’ class (remember those 85 pizzas?  Ha!), and his flatulence has been known to clear out the faculty lounge for a day-and-a-half!  Ha ha ha.

Wait a minute.  Actually, come to think of it, that isn’t Bull’s shtick.  Bull’s shtick is to yell at his players from the sidelines in a futile attempt to make them win a game.   (Heck, even with that magic-arm guy from last year–Jakov or whatever his name was–the team only managed to lose slightly better.)

But apparently, Ironton wants people like Bull.  The whole idea that Bull has no responsibility for his team’s losses is par for the course in the Funkyverse.  It’s those damned kids.  It’s always those damned kids. 

(By the way, how hard could it be to come up with a better name if you want to use the DUI acronym?  Dacron University of Indiana.  That took three seconds.)

 

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Nothing Works Out If You Don’t Let It

Link To Today’s Strip

Good ol’ Cayla, always the affable doormat. “Oh, you’re spending the entire summer living large in an all-expenses paid five star Hollywood hotel suite and dining with movie stars? And I’m not invited? OK, whatevs, I’ll keep some lemonade on ice for you honey!”. Married folks everywhere are reading this and thinking, “uh yeah right, Tom, seems plausible”.

And then he returns home to inform her that the whole thing was for nothing. No big TV bucks, no fame, no future in the business, not so much as an autographed Mason Jarr 8×10 glossy. Nothing. But that’s our Cayla, always content with whatever scraps Les deigns to toss her way. She is, after all, a mere substitute who knows her place, which is directly behind the Lisa shrine with feather-duster in hand.

Look at Dickface in that last panel…(urge to kill rising rapidly). Har-dee-har har. Only Tombat could tell a story that takes years to unfold, have absolutely nothing happen then pretend it’s a delightful happy ending. Look at that moronic grin on his stupid face. Look at Cayla purring away in bliss…blech, just nauseating. And does anyone remember the part of the story where Les heroically fought for “credit”? I sure don’t. TB could have skipped this entire arc and just had Les reject the offer and it would have ended exactly the same way. What a sorry display. Thank God it appears to finally be over, hopefully he’s reached his Les quota for 2014.

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Reneger Please

A HREF
June 30, 2014 at 11:47 am
“If you take their money, it’s their turn to tell the story”. Michael Connelly on asking whether it bothered him about the changes that occurred when his novel Blood Work was adapted to a movie.

I think it was a polite way of saying “I cried all the way to the bank”.

If this is not Les at his most pathetic and unlikable, then I don’t want to be around when he finally sinks to that nadir. When he insisted on writing his screenplay, his agent clearly informed him that the studio would likely rewrite it. “Hollywood” sent him a huge check and then patiently waited a year while Les struggled to turn in a screenplay. They flew him (and his imaginary cat) to Hollywood, booked him a fancy hotel room, and fed him tandoori chicken. Feeling thus “betrayed” and alone, Les calls Cayla back in Ohio. But rather than depict honest human conversation between husband and wife (during which maybe Cayla tells Les to get over himself), Batiuk treats us to another obscure comic “tribute’ which equates Les’ Hollywood experience with being dropped into a pit of vipers. My favorite part is how Cowboy Les, even in this dire predicament, still has this “why me?” look on his face.

The original (more colorful) Rawhide Kid cover

Rawhide Kid on Wikipedia

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Dys-Funktion

Link To Today’s Strip

OMG that’s f*cking disgusting. I seriously think I’m going to vomit. Just thinking about it makes me want to retch. Seriously man, that’s the most frightening Funky profile I have EVER seen and I’ve seen them all. Man alive, is that a terrifying drawing or what? If you go from panel to panel it’s like the evolution of early man.

So Les can’t sleep, eat or get erections (bluuurgh) and he hallucinates talking cats who like to chip away at his self esteem. It’s so reassuring to know that Tombat can still relate so well with the everyday people who read his strip, you know? I think it’s safe to say that her comments today pretty much cement Cayla’s status as the least realistic character in the history of fiction because…well, I think it’s pretty obvious why. Nice to see that Montoni’s is as busy as ever too.

Coming next week: “Defenders Of The Faith” starring Les Moore as Tom Batiuk and you beady-eyed nitpickers as “Hollywood”! Cheer for Les as he defends the cancer book’s honor! Weep with him as he recounts the tragic sequence of contrivances that led to her horrible death! Come for the puns…stay for the wordplay! (Remember folks, “Lisa’s Story…The Other Shoe is still available wherever fine books collections of old comic strips are sold!)

 

 

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But Westviewian School Employees Are

Link To Today’s Strip

Oh, I see. So what Les is saying here is that those slutty Hollywood trollops only have sex with men that can help them. Unlike those lovely Westviewian lasses who don’t “sleep with” writers until they’re almost completely over their long-dead first wives and the movie-option cash starts rolling in, I guess. Way to denigrate a hundred thousand “starlets” in one broad stroke there, Lester. What a dick.

“Sleeping with…”, “on the make”…it’s 1959 in the Funkyverse, except for the cars which appear to be early 00’s Chinese gray-market economy models of some sort (now in robin’s egg blue!). I guess the trunk was optional, eh? I like the mismatched wheel wells too. That Les is really tight with that movie option dough, you know? I mean who’d let his own wife ride around in a deathtrap like that? You’ve heard of “unsafe at any speed”? This car is unsafe when it’s parked.

Be forewarned: Batiuk loves himself some “boy is the airport a hassle or what?”-style gags especially if Dickface is involved. And Les is definitely one of THOSE people where air travel is concerned too. Whine, bitch, complain, repeat. Remember that time he was storming around the airport and the plane being all rude and disruptive? What a jerk.

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We Know The Feeling

Link To Today’s Strip

So in today’s installment of “Why Am I Reading This?” the Delicate Genius is concerned about working with the “script doctor” the studio hired to fix his shitty screenplay. I’m assuming that after the script doctor declares “Lisa’s Story” dead, the script coroner will step in. Too bad no one contacted a script abortionist when he first started writing it, but it’s a little late for that now. Speaking of hopeless lost causes, rumor has it that The Syndicate ordered TB to work with a “strip doctor” a few years back but unfortunately the poor bastard hung himself three hours into the job and they’ve had zero new applicants for the position since then.

Check out the peculiar frown on Cayla in panel two. Is that the look of a woman who’s just realized that she married a guy who hallucinates talking cats or what? She had her chance to bail on Les years ago but she blew it, so no sympathy here. And I am choosing to ignore Les’ weird assy pose in panel three because, well, just because. Some things just do not need to be elaborated upon.

If he’s not arrogantly strutting around like a smug pompous asshole and putting everyone else down via his annoying bits of asinine wordplay, he’s whining, simpering and cowering away from anything that might remotely inconvenience him, even if that thing is his life-long dream coming true. Les Moore: what a f*cking dick. Although I do really enjoy the sheer hatred he generates in the comments.

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