(“Running Gag” has already been used twice…had to come up with something for a title…[hangs head in shame])
Say, do you ever catch yourself thinking, “You know, those Sunday strips with Funky and Les jogging are great and all, but why are they so darn short? I’d like to see a week of those!” Well, brother, you’re about to get your wish! Have you ever considered therapy?
The joke in this is always the same: Funky’s a fat old doofus who hates exercising and is unequipped to survive it. Les is an up-and-at-’em type who always outperforms. There’s only so many variants on “Funky is a fat lazy loser” and, let me tell you, none of them are funny. This one is just stupid, and poorly presented. It should show Les and Funky speaking on the phone, the night before; then Funky’s dumb non-something would at least make a certain amount of character sense (any excuse to avoid getting up early). Saying his line now, after they’ve been out for a while, makes Funky look genuinely stupid. Talk about low-hanging fruit….
Here’s an idea, Funky. If you hate exercise so much, if it’s nothing but a burden, why not stop? You’ve been doing it for years and it is clearly not benefiting you in any way, other than making you even more miserable (if such a thing is possible) and thus able to commiserate with everyone around you. Your *cough* best friend Les seems to use this time to remind you of how superior to you he is in every way. Let’s face it–you’re never going to lose weight, you’re never going to feel good about yourself, and what you see right now in life is all you will ever have. Your creator clearly despises you. Everything else in the universe is punishing you; you don’t need to join in too. You might die sooner, but you might die happier, too.
Admittedly that’s a stretch, but in this strip, any death seems like a happy occasion. Finally, someone is free of the dark clutches of this strip. Free to rot and molder, and–I think I’ll stop typing now.