The vicious, unrelenting Wedgeman continues to shake Alex down for her mystery pharmaceuticals (while simultaneously judging her) as Owen looks on with dimwitted concern, holding his cell phone in a most suspicious manner. And this time, there’s no Summer Moore to grittily intervene and save the day for the “loser table”. Will Owen sit there cowering or will he stand up for his lady? Will Alex cave and hand over the meds? Will Wedgeman inquire as to what the pills are before he greedily gulps them all down? Will a new hero emerge? Will this shakedown take an entire week to play out? Will anyone even care anymore after today? Stay tuned……
Month: October 2013
Just Say (Oh) No
All day I’ve been wondering what TomBat had in store for us this week and not even for a second did I ever consider the possibility of an Alex arc, much less one that involves (GASP!!!!) drugs. I can’t say that I remember this deviant Anon-O-Goon’s name or if he even has one, but henceforth I will refer to him as George as a sort of tribute to his special “WHAM!” sound efffect. So George saw Alex eating a few pills after lunch and automatically assumed they were recreational drugs, which, in his defense, is a reasonable assumption given where she lives, where she goes to school, who she hangs out with and so on. But in any event, instead of politely inquiring about the possibility of procuring a taste for himself, George angrily threatens Alex, demanding her stash right there and then. The nerve of him! At least offer to trade her one of your cyanide caps (aka Westviewian Prozac), dude.
UPDATE: Is that supposed to be Wedgeman, WHS’ resident bully? I guess it is, my bad. Wasn’t Wedgeman a senior last year, back when he was terrorizing Owen and Cody? Oh well, perhaps that trivia will all be clarified at the funeral after his overdose.
You Ring, We Bring
TFH here, tippin’ the ol’ SoSF chullo to Oddnoc for two weeks of killer guest posts! Tomorrow, Epicus Doomus steps in!
If Batiuk had ever gone to the trouble of fleshing out the character of Funky’s dad, then maybe we could afford ourselves a chuckle at today’s strip. When he cropped up in Act III, Pa’s broken hip was just a link in a week-long chain of mishaps that befell Funky on his birthday. Since then, Dad (whom Batiuk hasn’t given a first name) is rolled out any time the author wishes to make Funky seem sympathetic: Funky has to schelp his father home to “celebrate” Christmas, or to the mall Food Court for a Father’s Day “lunch”. Dad exists merely as just one more cross for Funky to bear.
Espèce d’Idiot
Funky Winkerbean is a reality-based comic strip that depicts contemporary issues affecting young adults in a thought-provoking and sensitive manner.
What kind of idiot goes into the business of educating teenagers, then changes careers to write a comic strip about teenagers, when he clearly despises teenagers and doesn’t know any teenagers?
Oh, that kind of idiot.
I’ve always liked Owen—no, wait, let me finish!
Owen, as his creator compels him to behave, is a dimwitted, resentful, and callow boy with hardly any redeeming characteristics. He repels me. He’s a lazy student known to plagiarize from Wikipedia and otherwise cheat. He wears a chullo in summer, for crying out loud!
The thing is, I think the poor guy does all that stupid stuff under duress. In the hands of a more capable author than our favorite auteur, Owen and Cody could be interesting.
The Owen I’ve always liked is one that Batominc will never cause to exist.
So we’re left with the bandos getting drenched in the H₂Os on the fields in front of the mommos and daddos who are stupidos sitting on the bleachos. And so it goes.
About the title: In French, you can call someone a species of idiot. It means that not only are you an idiot, you’re your own special kind of idiot.
Update: Here endeth my stint as your guest snarker. It was a hoot, and I hope you enjoyed it (the snarking, not the comic)! TFH takes on Sunday’s bundle of joy, and will announce our next guest then! Cheers! Wait. I mean gloom!
Spit Take Two
Cody: Emptying your spit valve seems kind of redundant.
That’s not the only redundancy.
Son of Stuck Funky 
