Wednesday’s strip was not available for preview.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
Tagged as Falling leaves, Funky, Les, sports, Tennis
Maybe he’d be better at tennis if he’d stop flapping his gums and complaining the entire time. Regular exercise has done absolutely nothing for Funky, he’s shown no gains whatsoever over the course of Act III. And given his role as Batiuk’s favorite whipping boy I wouldn’t expect anything less.
Speaking of which God do I hate him. That Dick Facey smirk, all full of smug bemusement over his “pal’s” inexplicably lingering poor health and general overall apathy, it fills me with the urge to run him down with my car. Again and again and again. Then again with yours.
Funky plays tennis so he can talk to Les?!?!?!
This strip is remarkable at finding ways to be even sadder.
I think the title is better exposition than this strip.
And the “Huh?! Lifetime Acheivement Award for Most Convoluted Least Grammatically Correct Sentence in a Daily Comic Strip” goes to…Funky Winkerbean!
Simply reading this strip aloud would reveal its gobbledegookiness and the need for a rewrite.
And no, it’s not “just how Ohioans talk”. And no one ever says “Ahia”, either.
Tom has killed comedy, tragedy, farce, and pastiche. He’s destroyed character, plot, continuity, and theme. All that is left is eroding away the very nature of language itself, and his avant garde deconstruction of everything it means ‘to write’ will be complete.
Sadly, TV and social media have destroyed any local dialects. Now everyone uses the same cliches, phrases, etc.
Batty’s problem is that he wants to appear as an educated “man of the arts”, and so he goes out of his way to obsfucate his dialog, all to the detriment of meaning and humor.
The depressing part is that as always, Les has the delusion that he’s somehow above Funky in every respect despite still being the same clueless, spineless dolt who never met a social norm that didn’t baffle him or a social situation he couldn’t make a mess of. I have a clear memory of all the lost opportunities he had with Saint Dead Lisa and how they were all the fault of his being chicken and stupid but Batiuk would have us ignore that.
Yeah, that loser boy from high school is suddenly an athlete, great lover, desired by the opposite sex, and most of all, a great writer.
This week’s theme- “Pluggers” at the tennis court.
The last week and a half seem like Batboy is grasping at the gag-a-day format of old. He forgets that this gag-racket needs actual gags to be successful. As for the last week-and-a-half, gag me with a backhoe.
I don’t know what this is, but it’s not called writing.
Just to gauge that 1/4″, when I see (or hear I suppose) tennis players engaged in practice or friendly matches down at the park, they rarely engage in much conversation beyond calling out scores and occasionally remarking on something that happened during play.
Then again, the folks I see down at the park aren’t morose schlubs.