Yes, whenever one is advised You need to start exercising or You need to change your diet, the question is always, “Okay, but when can I stop?”
I guess it’s akin to You need to put jokes in your comic strip about young adults. “Okay, but when can I stop?”
Today’s offering is nowhere near as good as those earlier in the week, but there is one positive aspect I’d like to point out. It’s this:
You’re probably thinking that there doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable about it…and I agree. It’s what isn’t there that’s interesting. Think how easy it would be to turn that panel into this:
It took me about a minute (which is why it’s so shoddy). Tom Batiuk has been doing stuff like this for ten years or so; it’d have been easy for him to toss out something like that. Really easy.
Something to ponder on–something to stay the hand when it reaches out innocently for the whitened pebble, the veined stone, the dead, unmoving rocks of our planet.
Son of Stuck Funky 
The attempted humor of the past week is tapering down now as FW prepares to revert to its natural state and resume being a comic strip about the idiotic exploits of annoying jerks who need weeks and weeks to complete the simplest of tasks. TB had his fun, but soon it’ll be time to get back to the business of getting fifty-two weeks of strips out of two minutes of story. It was kind of refreshing to have a week without any mention of comic books or dead characters, wasn’t it? Of course it is only Friday, but still.
Now, let’s not blame Funky here. He knows the mechanics of his universe are required to strike him down as soon as something positive happens in his life. He wants to stop this slide into good health and well-being before it’s too late.
I… sorta laughed at the last panel. Well, I exhaled air slightly more vigorously than usual, just enough to be audible. I apologize.
I think he should blow the whole thing up, literally. A meteor is on a direct course for Westview and Montoni’s is in the bulls-eye. All efforts to thwart the space rock fail and the stubborn, resolute, stupid and lazy population refuses to evacuate. The meteorite strike levels the town on a Saturday and Sunday is a big “boom!” followed by six black panels.
Act IV then picks up twenty years later as the lone survivors of the disaster, Les and Funky, sit outside the Craterhole Care Facility and reminisce about Westviewian lore, complain about the food, annoy the staff and so on. There would be plenty of room for old age jokes (which we know he loves) and limitless opportunities for sepia-toned flashbacks (ditto).
It’s almost refreshing to see someone act like a normal dumb guy in a normal world. Things like this remind us of the goofy kid he used to be back when this was a serviceable little comedy about him and a lot of other goofy kids in an surreal high school.
Funky: “Awww, yeah. Finally a real MAN doctor! That nurse was violent!”
Doctor: “Um, female doctors have been a reality for a long, long time sir. And that was no nurse, that was just some woman in a white lab coat. She breaks in here every so often and tortures people. Usually, we stop her.”
Funky: “…*…then why didn’t you rescue ME?!?”
Doctor: “Because frankly, this is the fifteenth time this day you’ve collapsed on the treadmill. There’s just not much more we can -do- at this point, Mr. Winkerbean! If you’re going to ignore our advice, that’s your business.”
Funky: “Huh. For some reason I thought you were going going to tell me my blood pressure and weight are down.”
Doctor: “Down?!? You can’t even jog uphill without flushing and collapsing!”
“Well, given that tomorrow’s strip is the last one in this story arc, you can… sorry, will stop working out on Sunday.”
“Great! How soon can I stop working out and start working on my affair with Cindy?” I mean seriously doc, I have a major character arc planned here!!
Her return does seem awfully convenient. Perhaps she’ll end up saying she was too good for her own good……
Re: Cindy, I will be mildly shocked if she doesn’t figure into the big SJ mega-arc somehow, maybe via a “human interest” story of some sort.
Probably Cindy will interview one of the last living SJ artists, who just happens to have one of the rare issues. “And since I’m going to die, I’d really like to donate it to some criminal loser.”
I don’t get how turning his head changes the joke, could someone explain? Thanks