Poor Donna, look how excited she is in panel one. She reaches out with both hands to the bottle sitting on the weird, tiny, chest-high, table that floats in the featureless beige void. Some cheap sparkling wine. Something to take the edge off the fear gnawing at her subconscious that she’s trapped forever in this gradient colored nega-space. Locked into a bland box, where she slowly decays as the background fades, both the room and her person losing all color and detail. She’ll drink that bottle of cheap, carbonated booze and forget her horrifying existence for a while.
And then the reveal, and her face falls.
This must be payback for all the times she washed her hair with Crazy’s head cleaning solution.
But it’s okay. She can wash away her sorrows with rancidly effervescent salad dressing.
Son of Stuck Funky 
Gosh, a Westview regular gets their hopes ever so slightly raised, only to watch them come crashing back to dull reality while someone they trusted smugly watches. How original.
Donna, run over to the Taj Moore-hall. Have a few drinks with Not-Lisa. Get her to join you in a Zoom conference with Cindy Chauffeur, er, Summers and uh, that blonde who married Darrin Fairgood, and the redhead/blonde who married Wally “Big Spender” Winkerbean. You all need to discuss your mutual need to alibi one another when you murder your husbands.
I often wonder if the married women in Westview have off-panel get-togethers where they get drunk on Sutter Home mini-bottles and cut loose about their worthless husbands.
“Sorry I’m late, girls, Les is having one of his ‘I have to protect Lisa’ days.”
“That’s nothing, the Montoni’s fire alarm went off and my Wally shot up the place. I’m pretty sure Adeela’s dead.”
“Oh, screw Montoni’s. Guess what Harry got me for our anniversary? Salad dressing. Montoni’s salad dressing. So he could make a joke about–”
(several women) “Salad days?”
“Duh! All I wanted was a cheap bottle of champagne. Not the first time I’ve set the bar low and still been disappointed, let me tell you.”
“You think I care? I got a rock. Like Charlie Brown. A. Rock. From a cave in California where my idiot husband was supposed to burn to death. Congratulations, Mindy, your fiancee Mr. Engagement Tiger is the biggest spender here.”
“Thanks! Does that mean I’ll be Mrs. Engagement Tiger?”
“Am I still pretty? Am I still pretty? Am I still pretty? Please tell me I’m still pretty.” (dials cell phone) “Mason, you’re in the same time zone as that woman again. WHY ARE YOU IN THE SAME TIME ZONE WITH THAT WOMAN AGAIN?”
“That reminds me, girls, when are we getting together to burn all those comic books we’ve had to buy?”
“Ugh. I think that’s the worst thing about living here. I can deal with the cancer, terrorism, amputations, poverty, underemployment, date rape, drunk driving, video games, and marching band, but no more comic books. No offense, Becky.”
“Who am I married to again? Is it Barry Balderman? Coach Stropp? Please tell me it’s not Les. Or Dinkle. I feel like it’s Dinkle.”
“Hey everyone, it’s Linda’s birthday. Here, we all got you this birthday card!”
“Ohh, I can’t wait to open–”
“NO! LINDA! DON’T! STOP–”
(the women are all frozen in place for a week as Linda opens the envelope)
This is probably the best thing I’ve read all week. I would like to apply to be the president of your fictional fanclub.
Okay, but I’ll be the president of your fan club too, so we don’t get into a “Stimpy’s Fan Club” situation.
One minor correction: Cindy would mention that she and Les got busy while he was out there.
Well something like that would be there if Batty wrote this.
That last line is pure comedy gold.
Brilliant…
Ever since the “Hollywood Wildfire Massacre” storyline, Batiuk’s offerings haven’t even been up to the minimum level for me to chime in with a proper full-fledged comment…
Sigh. This one was probably funnier (to him) while he was sketching it out on a Luigi’s napkin than it turned out in “real life”, so to speak. Sometimes basing a “story” on whatever happens to be in your field of vision at any given time just isn’t enough, you know?
In all seriousness, this is so awful. This is a woman being shown that she will never, ever have any consideration by her husband. He will always hold Jungle Jim Toppers as having far more significance to him than her entire life.
“Harry–it’s cancer. I’m dying. I’ll be gone soon.”
“Oh, I can add that to my FleaBay description, and raise the Buy It Now price by two or even three dollars! Thank you!.”
The look on Donna’s face in panel three is the same look I have on my face when I see Monday’s strip for the first time.
“WTF is this? Sigh. Thanks for the quality raw material there, you f*cking hack.”
You know the look I mean. You’re sort of hoping that someone dies or something burns but instead it’s six days of a dipshit staring at a curb or a moron buying a bottle of salad dressing. People think it’s all glitz and glamour here at SoSF World HQ but they don’t see what goes on behind the scenes when you’re struggling to come up with six puns centering around curbs or salad. It’s not pretty and let’s just leave it at that.
I say this a lot, but Funky Winkerbean has some disturbing incel overtones.
Every Act III marriage is exactly the same. It wasn’t always like that during Act II, but now they’re all identical. Blissfully unaware lummox husband, perpetually disappointed-yet-patient wife tolerating her moron’s idiocy with wry resignation. Cayla, Holly, Donna, Jessica, Harriet…the only one that doesn’t fit the pattern is Mason & Cindy, where the roles are sort of reversed.
I will take back every mean thing I’ve said about this strip if Donna murders Harry.
Except he wouldn’t show the murder, it’d unfold via flashbacks over a three or four week span and culminate with a silent Sunday strip where a homicide detective wordlessly leads her away.
The detective, of course, would be wearing a Lisa’s Legacy Fun Run T-Shirt, so we can stay on brand.
But, but, isn’t Crazy Harry supposed to be a Lovable Character ???
“The champagne of salad dressings” comes from the restaurant that serves “the Mogen David of pizza”? Citation needed…
The “Mogen David?” Montoni’s style is better served by the Sigil of Baphomet. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigil_of_Baphomet#/media/File:Baphosimb.svg
The more I read, the more convinced I am that Westview is just Silent Hills after Pyramid Head left town.
Is that a play on “Champagne of Beers” which is the old tag line for Miller High Life? A six pack of that would have been a better present than a bottle of salad dressing.
If Montoni’s salad dressing sells for the same price as the real-life Luigi’s ($7.50 if memory serves from earlier this week) a split of Freixenet Cordon Negro NV (375ml) at its suggested retail of $6.99 is less expensive.
This storyline is baffling to me. Is TomBa actually saying that Harry, a devotee of comics and superheroes, is capable of error and, by extension, dumping on comic-collecting nerds?
Oh you just wait until Harry pulls out a pristine, mint-in-box copy of Lisa’s Story, and you’ll see what an anniversary mistake looks like!
Another thing I’d like to see is Donna grab the bottle, chug it straight down out of spite, and then go spend the rest of this “anniversary” looking up which divorce lawyers will accept comic books as acceptable barter payment.
(“Me!” Amicus Breef screams, just before being sent back to the land of Forgotten Characters.)
Donna, pretend his face is the bow of a ship and smash that bottle against it. Launch him into eternity!
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This “comics” title should be changed to MONTONIS !!!! OMG !!!!