Yesterday I mentioned that there’s one Funky Winkerbean character that I loathe almost as much as Les. Well, speak of the Devil, and his horns appear.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Harry L. Dinkle. I have no idea what the “L” stands for, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it stood for “Les.” Two more horrible characters cannot be imagined. Oh, you can talk about your John Howards and your Darrin Fairgoods, but for my money nothing is worse than these two. Thank whatever God you hold that they have, so far as I am aware, never worked together.
Like Les, Dinkle is filled to the brim with his own self-importance, and is convinced of his own brilliance. Unlike Les–and I can’t believe I’m saying something favorable about Mr. Moore–he makes no attempt to hide his sense of superiority behind a mask of false humility. No, the act of sad-sack martyr is not one that Dinkle assays with any regularity–not when he can play the smug, pompous blowhard with such aplomb.
Look at this creep, who has managed to write a third volume in his autobiography, smirking about “culture.” If he was speaking of “culture” in the sense of a mass of deadly, flesh-eating bacteria, he is very close indeed. The one bright spot is, weighed down as he is with books, it demonstrates that he has sold none of them, meaning that the citizens of Westview are at long last awakening from their long slumber and are no longer going to put up with such fools.
Just kidding. They’ll all die alone and afraid. And as the oncoming darkness surrounds them and enshrouds them, and the lights go out all over the world, they can smile to themselves, and think, Ha ha ha, I only bought the first two volumes of that bastard’s life story.
I win!
And the final curtain goes down.
Son of Stuck Funky 
If Dinkle is so famous in Westview that his life merits a three volume set of autobiographies, why does Becky need to introduce him like that? Isn’t there an entire building in town named for him? Why is an octogenarian retired school employee lugging around huge stacks of books on the band’s behalf? When will Becky finally manage to get her arm around this annual funding crisis? She really needs to learn how to juggle things when the going gets tough, being a band director is a very hand-on sort of job. Getting a firm grip on these things is essential, you can’t just throw your hand in the air and accept the status quo. Burying your head in your hand won’t get you anywhere either, time for Becky to stop letting herself be strong-armed all the time.
But the really glaring thing in this one is that cackling nonsensical excuse for a punchline. “Candy”? They usually sell turkeys, don’t they? Anyway, as usual Dinkle only serves to annoy, playing his iconic “elder statesman of supreme narcissism” bit to the hilt. What’s “volume three” of his autobiography called, “The Following Becky Around Years”?
But what Westviewian would even *want* his autobiography? It’s not about pizza, comic books, cancer, or TV talk show hosts who were murdered. So…
Speaking of Band Turkeys… here’s another Harry Dinkle autobiography we are selling!
For the record, these were Harry Dinkle’s previous two autobiographies:
It makes sense in proper context.
Darn, apparently I forgot how to embed images in comments.
I was referring to this book and this book.
It’s funny that Becky’s name isn’t worth mentioning at all, apparently, when she introduces herself.
Why thanks for putting that woman on the spot with an item that she probably has absolutely no interest in and forcing her to choose between blowing thirty bucks on it or appearing to not want to support her school in front of two figures of the town who will no doubt castigate her for refusing. Now do you two birdbrains get why turkeys are a much better idea?
You know, I can’t recall the last time I saw students (let alone faculty members) hawking things door-to-door for fundraisers. Usually they set up shop outside the supermarket, or host car washes or bingo nights or something. But hey, Batiuk has his stable of running gags, and dammit he’s going to use them. It’s tradition! (Dun-DUN da-da-da-dum…)
Sneak peek to tomorrow’s strip:
Panel 1 – Harry: “So how many copies should we put you down for?”
Panel 2 – Lady slams the door in their face.
Panel 3 – Harry: “She must be getting her checkbook”
^Haha! That would actually work if it were about 1980. These days? Lame.
If Becky’s so hard up to raise cash on the school’s behalf, then why not try exploiting the missing arm for profit? One thing’s for sure, if she doesn’t sell a book soon then Harry’s gonna get one nasty hernia. Ever heard of a box, guys?
BC: I’ve always hated how he changed Dinkle from a genuine nut into this kindly cackling living nostalgia machine who pathetically tags along with the bland insecure one-armed woman all the time. From feared tyrant barking out insane commands to fat jerk exchanging annoying wry banter with the other dipshits. It’s quite sad really. He took away his personality and replaced it with the generic Act III one that everyone but Les and Summer got after Lisa died, yet all he ever really does is talk about how he used to be. It’s weird.
SpacemanSpiff85: That’s such a Becky thing to do. She follows in a legend’s footsteps by dragging him along everywhere she goes…there’s a guaranteed blueprint for success and self-esteem, eh? It’s painful to watch and she’d maybe actually be a sort of sympathetic character if only she wasn’t such a drip about everything. She’s FW’s Debbie Downer, always there to remind you she’s still (sigh) hanging in there, albeit barely.
And what, pray tell, is the story about: an obsessive, self-important lunatic who wasted his life and alienated his family because he let a tiny bit of authority go to his empty head and still doesn’t really realize it. That’ll fly off the shelves. It’s like the fake autobiography of Erica “No Emmys and No Self-Awareness” Kane.
“That’ll fly off the shelves.”
In an earthquake…………….
Saturnino, sorry I accidentally down voted your post. It was meant to be a vote up. Gosdarn it.
SpacemanSpiff85, it’s almost as if Becky is ashamed to say her name after accidentally identifying herself as “Becky Winkerbean”a few times. So just “Becky” will do.
In 24 hours we have gone from the depressing to the absurd. Batiuk is narratively tone-deaf. It would be as if, during an episode of BREAKING BAD, Walter, Jesse and Saul broke out into a Three Stooges shtick.
Given the appearance of the homeowner’s blouse in today’s strip, and of the upholstery we’ve seen throughout Westview over the past few years, I would think that lint rollers would sell well for a fundraiser. Certainly much more so than a book that probably goes:
Chapter 1: Rain at the 1986 Battle of the Bands
Chapter 2: Rain at the 1987 Battle of the Bands
Chapter 3: Rain at the 1988 Battle of the Bands
Chapter 4: That time they pretended I was a real person at the Tournament of Roses parade
Chapter 5: Rain at the 1989 Battle of the Bands
and so on and so forth…
Did anyone else think of the annoying Encyclopedia Britannica kid when reading this? He would fit right in.
@billytheskink- Chapter 6: That time I was deaf for one day.
It’s going to be pointless to sell those books now. Especially since they will miss the addendum where they detail that Harry Dinkle died of a massive coronary trying to carry 10 odd copies of the very same book they are reading.
This is the very you don’t bring Lefty with you on door to doors.
Actually, someone dying trying to sell his own biography would be a pretty funny way to go.