Banana Jr. 6000

I Stand Corrected

In my last post, I said comic book week could have been a charming little throw back to Act I, and that Tom Batiuk should do this kind of thing more often.

I take it back.

Last week’s “bus driver shortage” arc in Crankshaft was a perfect example of why Tom Batiuk shouldn’t try doing Act I-style stories anymore. They miss everything that made Act I arcs good.

The best way to see this is to look at the Act I stories Harriet has recently dived into, such as the literary magazine arc, the video games/censorship arc, and The Eliminator’s hacking arc.

What did those stories have that last week didn’t have?

There were actual stakes. Les was facing criticism, and possible termination of employment, for what his magazine published. Westview faced threats remove to popular video games. The Eliminator was tampering with Crazy’s grade, War Games-style.

A bus driver shortage should have serious effects on a high-school centric world, even if it’s just “hey, none of us have to worry about getting fired for awhile.” That should push Ed and the crew into even more extreme behavior, which is a staple of the strip. Here, of course, there are no stakes, no implications, and nothing that even escalates existing stories. Speaking of which:

There was an actual story. In all three examples, any gags were part of a larger story which the strip took time to unravel. For example:

The two strips are jokes, but they’re good ones, and they flow naturally from the story. The strip had spent a good week talking how the literary magazine had offended the community, which drove the easily-upset Les to having nightmares, and the feckless Fred Fairgood into making an actual decision. Then the story moves forward.

Bloom County was good at this:

This is silly as hell, but it was actually a small part of a long, complex story about Oliver Wendell Jones’ hacking misadventures. Which itself was also a longrunning theme in Bloom County. The story supported the joke, and the joke supported the story. Berke Breathed had a talent for writing insane stories, but also making them make sense in context. Which is exactly what’s not happening here:

The bus driver shortage isn’t a story, but just a premise to be restated at you over and over and over. It’s another form of “What are you doing, Dad?” Which as it turns out, Pam doesn’t actually say that much. It’s the Funkyverse’s answer to “beam me up, Scotty” or “play it again, Sam”. But you know what I mean: it’s the stand-in phrase for an overused trope. Even if Pam doesn’t say those exact words, she might as well be.

Those stories weren’t contrary to the reality of the world. The literary magazine arc in particular was very consistent with Les’ established personality, Roberta Blackburn’s personality, and the general spinelessness of school leadership in the face of obnoxious citizen critics.

Here, we were treated to a joke about how the school board was so desperate it was forced to hire a Hell’s Angel as an elementary school bus driver. A Hell’s Angel would probably be a way better bus driver than Ed Crankshaft is! They do Toys for Tots, so they must have some degree of altruism, and ability to interact with children. Ed Crankshaft and the other drivers certainly don’t, considering how they routinely blow off children at bus stops, and cause traffic jams to amuse themselves.

The jokes were aimed at the right targets. Les’s worry, Fred’s spinelessness, Roberta’s Karen-ness, and the public’s excessive squeamishness about the tiniest hint of sexual content were all on the receiving end of the barbs.

Here the victim is – to the extent there even is one – this Hell’s Angel who did nothing more than show up and apply for a job. Ed gets no guff for being an awful bus driver. Lena gets no guff for making bad hiring decisions. The school system gets no guff for managing its resources so poorly that it gets into this state. The “Tucker Twins”, who’ve never been mentioned before and probably never will be again, get no guff for bullying a grown man out of a job. (Can they please be assigned to Crankshaft’s bus?)

This is more evidence that the “good” characters can never, ever, ever be in the wrong, not even in the tiniest way. Even unseen “main “good” characters.

There isn’t much to say about this week’s “If Amazon drove your kids to school” arc, even though it progresses naturally from a “bus driver shortage” arc. Yeah, the jokes are lame, but a week of formulaic jokes isn’t worth talking about. It’s well above the level of awful that makes the Funkyverse fascinating.

What is worth talking about? The Burnings! And I haven’t forgotten that I owe you all the next installment of the reimagined Burnings story, so that is coming soon!

The Comic Book Cover That Never Came

After the Burnings piddled out, Tom Batiuk spent two full weeks on comic book covers. Pointless, derivative, unimaginative, actionless, talky, over-expositioned, self-indulgent, still-auditioning-for-Marvel-and-DC-at-age-76 comic book covers. It was so bad I struggled to write anything about it. Then on Sunday, I asked myself a question I never thought I would: why’d he stop?

The November 3 Crankshaft strip is perfectly suited to be a comic book cover. It’s already turned sideways. It’s already framed like a comic book cover; there’s empty space at the top where the Atomik Komix livery and price tag would go. There’s more action in this drawing than anything we saw during Pizza Box Monster week. So why isn’t it one?

It could have been a nice little self-callback. It’s hard to remember now, but comic book covers and comic book art in Funky Winkerbean used to be a way of framing the actual story arc. Not-Yet-Dead Lisa would imagine herself as a cancer-fighting superhero. The obstacles in a character’s world would manifest themselves as comic book-style villains, and so on. It had its charms.

Or at least, it had a point. It complemented the narrative instead of replacing the narrative with something that wasn’t narrative. Sometimes it was just in service of a “collecting comic books” story, but that was still in-bounds. It wasn’t just to flesh out Batiuk’s imaginary comic book continuity he never does anything with. Or indulge his fantasy of what he wishes he’d been doing for the last 50 years.

This Crankshaft strip is perfect for that treatment. It’s about urging people to vote, a common theme when an election is imminent. But it could have been so much better, if Batiuk had just leaned into what he’s been forcing onto us for the last two weeks. Put Ed in a America-themed costume. Call him Super-Citizen or something. With the power to change mighty governments in a single vote! Instead of Meckler lamely saying “we’re trying to encourage younger voters”, Ed could have compelled them to join his superhero team! This would have made a garden-variety voting story a little bit fun.

Which is what’s missing from all this. For all the time Tom Batiuk spends in Comic Book Cover Land, it’s just. Not. Fun. Not even to him! The comic book covers aren’t funny. Or interesting. Or skillfully drawn. or passionate. Or frame the story a different way. Or set up anything that gets explored later. Or serve as a entertaining spectacle in themselves. They feel obligatory.

This is like the song “She Keeps Me Up”. It’s an overproduced disco rock song from the humorless band Nickelback, played with complete earnestness. This should be hilarious, but it’s not. And it’s not because the song is bad. It’s fine for what it is. But watch the 70s-style music videos for “Are You Gonna Go My Way” or “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” or “Ooh La La” by Goldfrapp, and you’ll see the problem. Those people are enjoying themselves! They clearly love this type of music, and know how to create it. They have a sense of a humor. They put some thought into merging the disco sound into their usual songwriting.

As much as Tom Batiuk professes to love comic book covers, he draws them like it’s a contractual obligation.

Weekday Comic Book Covers!

Yep, they’re a thing now. How long until Crankshaft is nothing but comic book covers? And how many years will that go on before the strip is cancelled?

Last week was the final full week of October, which means it was the Pizza Box Monster’s time to shine! He showed up on cue and… existed. Pete, Mindy, Darrin, and the PBM talked about decorating and telling ghost stories, but didn’t do either of those things. They also didn’t deal with the power outage, which seems like a serious problem for Montoni’s. Spoiled product cuts into a restaurant’s “thin crust profit margins.” But they sat in the dark and played make-believe like the overgrown nine-year-olds they are. It’s been a year since Pete and Mindy bought the restaurant, and they’ve done nothing but decorate it for holidays (and that’s if you count last week). What was the point of closing Montoni’s or re-opening it?

Then on Sunday, the Burnings story… well, I don’t want to say it “ended”, but I guess it’s done smirking at itself. What is Lillian so pleased about? She did absolutely nothing. Telling people they’re on camera is of no value if you’re not going to do anything with the evidence. Such as, give it to the police so they can identify and arrest the arsonist. The arson footage must exist, because there’s no way someone mounted that camera after the fire but before the protestors, which were implied to happen on the same night. Or, investigate them yourself, something an award-winning mystery writer should know a thing or two about.

Unlike what Tom Batiuk thinks, there’s nothing courageous about reading a book to people you know will never attack you. This is what happens when a story starts with “let my preferred character be the hero of a controversial issue so I can win an award” and then tries to back-form a narrative that leads up to that. The whole story makes zero sense. All the “protestors” had to was report the book to the school board, or maybe just to principal Nate (who was depicted as wanting to obey the school board). All Lillian or Booksmellers had to do was call the police, because nothing about this justifies an arson attack. Again, why is this treated so casually?

At the peak of the stupidity, there were almost 20 people total on Lillian’s lawn, protesting for something that already exists, or counter-protesting for… something, I guess. You sure wouldn’t know what the counter-protestors wanted from their signs. Ban bans! Ban gensor! Words have power! It’s like they were all told to assemble and make signs but weren’t told why. Look at their faces. They all say “I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m really, really angry at you!”

And finally, there’s the small matter of “The Burnings” somehow being a major phenomenon that shut down literacy for two generations. The Village Booksmith “survived the Burnings” by virtue of the fire being too small to cook marshmallows.

Testimony Of Skip Rawlings

(My retelling of The Burnings continues.)

PROSECUTION: Can you please state your name and profession?

SKIP: Skip Rawlings, Publisher-editor-reporter of the Centerville Sentinel.

PROSECUTION: And which of those roles did you perform in the newspaper’s story about the Booksmellers fire?

SKIP: Well, all of them.

PROSECUTION: This story said, quote, “Booksmellers came under attack because students were going to get a book for their school literature course that the school board had banned” and “the protestors said there were things in the book they didn’t want their kids to see.” Is that an accurate description?

SKIP: Yes.

Further Testimony Of Blaise Ashcomb

(My retelling of The Burnings continues. All episodes of the retelling appear under the “Burnings” tag.)

(Blaise Ashcomb, having sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, testifies as follows:)

PROSECUTION: Let us now move to the Village Booksmith fire. Can you briefly describe your investigation of that fire?

ASHCOMB: The fire was put out before I got there, and no one was injured. So my first task was to identify and interview witnesses. But when I got there, everybody was already in a huge conversation about book burning. I thought this was very strange.

PROSECUTION: Why was this strange?

ASHCOMB: When I was walking up to the scene, it looked like a minor cigarette butt fire or something like that. It was way too early to establish if the fire was even intentional, much less a specific motive for it. But they were right in the middle of it. I thought maybe they saw something, or knew more than the newspaper did about this supposed protest. But they didn’t.

PROSECUTION: Who was there?

ASHCOMB: The neighbors, their adult daughter, the grandfather Ed Crankshaft, and a darker-skinned couple.

PROSECUTION: What did they tell you?

ASHCOMB: Well, the dark-skinned couple didn’t say anything relevant, and didn’t stay long. But the rest of them all bought that newspaper story about the Booksmellers fire. This fire was lit on the 16th, and the Booksmellers fire was on the 5th. And I just said we had ruled the Booksmellers fire accidental by then.

PROSECUTION: Did the witnesses say anything else?

ASHCOMB: Ed Crankshaft started telling me this absurd story about how being unable to read cost him a shot at the major leagues. I remember thinking “yeah, buddy, I’d be quarterback of the Browns if I didn’t tweak my knee in high school.”

PROSECUTION: To be fair, you’d probably be better than DeShaun Watson.

ASHCOMB: Heh. That’s probably true.

PROSECUTION: Anything else?

ASHCOMB: Ed Crankshaft vehemently denied having anything to do with the fire.

PROSECUTION: Did you believe him?

ASHCOMB: Yes, because it quickly became apparent that he had no involvement.

PROSECUTION: Why did you believe Mr. Crankshaft had no involvement in this fire when his, uh, propensity for starting fires is well-known?

ASHCOMB: This fire was clearly the work of an amateur, and Ed Crankshaft is no amateur. He’s actually kind of a genius. Do you know how much energy it takes to launch a 35-pound backyard grill into orbit? Escape velocity is 25,000 miles an hour. And that’s at the equator. Imagine being almost halfway up the globe, and getting a non-aerodynamic object moving that fast, using only store brand lighter fluid. And he’s done this many, many, many times. The laws of thermodynamics don’t seem to exist around Ed Crankshaft. NASA should hire him to build rocket engines. It’s crazy.

PROSECUTION: Why did you think this fire was the work of an amateur?

ASHCOMB: The huge puddles of unignited accelerant at the scene, for starters. That’s a smoking gun for arson. Also, the failure to ignite all the accelerants kept the fire small, almost as if the firestarter didn’t want to do too much damage. They also used a particular accelerant, one that was very easy to track down.

PROSECUTION: And what was that?

ASHCOMB: Creosote oil. It’s a yellowish-brown liquid. There were also traces of gasoline, maybe because they stored it in a container that previously held gasoline. Or maybe they thought it would fool someone. Like I said, amateur. By the way, creosote oil can cause cancer.

PROSECUTION: So this was definitely an arson attack?

ASHCOMB: 100 percent.

PROSECUTION: Did you rule out any other possibilities?

ASHCOMB: It was also quickly apparent that Lillian McKenzie did not start the fire.

PROSECUTION: Why is that?

ASHCOMB: She was inside her house when the fire started, and when I interviewed her, she was pretty shaken up by the attack. But mainly, she had no motive.

PROSECUTION: Why not?

ASHCOMB: Insurance fraud is a major motive for arson, so it’s something I always have to consider. But Lillian’s business was completely uninsurable. She basically hung a plank outside her house and declared her attic “The Village Booksmith.” It doesn’t have any kind of business licensing, much less business insurance. And the fire was so small she wouldn’t have met her deductible anyway. It made no sense from an insurance fraud perspective. And she wouldn’t start an insurance fire at the most fire-resistant point of the house.

PROSECUTION: Can you explain what you mean by that?

ASHCOMB: Much of the McKenzie house, including the stairs, was made out of fire-resistant wood. Clearly Lillian took some extra precautions after a few Crankshaft grill incidents. She wouldn’t have started the fire on the bottom steps, unless she wanted it to fail right away. Which makes no sense in an insurance fraud scenario, or other rational motives like concealment of something. But it does make sense in terms of what we later learned about the firestarter.