Here We Are Now, Entertain Us

I went to all the trouble of setting up a Batton Thomas betting pool, with options like “Will Skip start the week by making a comment about continuing the interview?” And the prick just rudely shows up on a Wednesday, hijacking a harmless week at Komix Korner. And re-uses that same smug drawing we’ve seen a dozen times by now.

How on earth did I fail to offer the option “yet another smug, insufferable book signing and not the actual interview”? In retrospect, that should be a standing offer in this wagering house. The Funkyverse is an endless parade of book signings for books no one would ever ready, by people who are incapable of writing them. My joss paper theory seems more plausible by the day.

(To make a house ruling: this week will not count as a Batton Death March week. So none of those wagers will be evaluated until the next fully-focused Batton Thomas interview week.)

If Tom Batiuk fulfills any promise to his readers, it’s the meta-promise he inadvertently makes to us snarkers: that his unhinged storytelling choices will be bizarrely entertaining. Who could forget Zanizbar, the talking, cigar-smoking murder chimp? Or Darrin’s decision to make a child’s toy of the handgun that killed that child’s own grandfather? Or Cindy’s late-life pregnancy, which was never resolved in any way? Or that this tiny town would have two people with almost-identical amputations, and no character would ever once comment on that? Or Timemop, and “humanity is our nation”?

But this kind of crazy is becoming less and less frequent. I often compare the Funkyverse to the infamous movie The Room. Crankshaft now feels more like 2010: The Year We Made Contact. Stanley Kubrick’s original 2001: A Space Odyssey could be dense and tedious at times, but it was also memorable and trippy, and told a strong story if you put the effort in. The sequel lost all the weird stuff, and told a straightforward, So Okay It’s Average story about interstellar Cold War cooperation, 20 years after the Soviet Union ended in real life. (The John Lithgow space walk scene is outstanding, though.)

The Funkyverse seems to be undergoing entropy. Its internal structure, what little there ever was, seems to be breaking down. I’ll tell you what I mean.

On June 1, 2024 – almost two years ago now – this blog made the decision to continue publishing, on grounds that Crankshaft was looking like a continuation of everything we that made the Funkyverse so compelling. And sometimes, it lived up to that meta-promise. The Burnings was probably the high/low point: an overhyped story about an out-of-date controversy, that did little more than demonstrate Les Moore’s complete immunity to the tiniest amounts of pushback.

But Batiuk has not been fulfilling that meta-promised. He has left certain tropes, like Atomix Komix and even Dead Lisa, mostly in Defuncty Winkerbean. Narshe recently gave an updated rotation of the frequent topics in Act IV Crankshaft:

– Batton Death March week
– Ed malapropisms week
– Jeff as a stand-in for Batiuk to lament something related to his interests week
– Montoni’s week
– [Emily and Amelia] manager for [Lillian] week
– Dinkle week
– Idiots at a book signing week

Narshe

That’s pretty accurate, though I would add two more to that list. The first one is a category I call the Legitimate Crankshaft Week. These are weeks that were just like what this strip contained before Funky ended. “Ed malapropism week” is the most common of these, making it a super-category to one of Narshe’s categories. But even native Crankshaft stories are less creative than they used to be. They’re usually propping up some lame premise like “bus driver shortage” for another milking.

The other new type is the miscellaneous week. These used to be rare, happening mostly at year’s end. But we’ve seen more and more weeks of generic, unrelated gags. And weeks that simply don’t adhere to the traditional Monday to Saturday schedule. The recent “Ed tries to scam eclipse observers” story ended on a Monday.

On a related note, I’ve been updating the “Act IV” menu that summarizes each week of post-2022 Crankshaft. And there’s barely anything to write anymore. If I can describe a week of this comic strip as “unrelated gags,” is the whole thing even worth talking about anymore? Is the entire system breaking down too much to be recognizable, even by our own definitions of what is entertaining about it?

Betton Thomas

Before I came to SoSF, I was a contributor to a college sports blog, where I also ran a play-money betting contest. So I speak the language of odds and vigorish and parlays. Tapping into that experience will be my latest approach to dealing with the Batton Death March. I love playful betting!

Since Tom Batiuk is snarking himself so hard there’s no reason for us to bother anymore, I’m setting up a little contest! Make predictions about the next installment of the Batton Thomas interview. (Because we all know there’s going to be another installment.) Score points if your prediction is correct. Choose from 20 different bets!

Make choices, and score a total number of points based on the difficulty of the prediction. -1 point for any incorrect choice. Make a comment listing your choices, and the bet number for each. After each week ends, I’ll tally the sore. If you want to review previous weeks, I’ve been keeping the Compleat Batton Thomas post updated.

RULES: All bets are for the entire week. Sunday strips count, if they feature Batton Thomas. Each panel counts as a separate mention. (So if Skip smirks in two different panels of the same strip, that counts as two smirks for bet #A7.) The house (i.e., me) judges all bets.

General

G1. When will the next week of the Batton Death March begin?

April 27, May 4, May 11, May 18, May 25 (1 point each), June (2 points), later in 2026 (3 points), not at all in 2026 (10,000 points)

G2. Will Skip start the week by making a comment about “continuing the interview”?

Yes or No (1 point each)

G3. Where will they meet?

Montoni’s (.5 point), Batton’s studio, Centerview Sentinel offices, Dale Evans, Komix Korner (1 point each), a location from Tom Batiuk’s personal life (1.5 points), none of these (2 points). 10 points for a specific new location which you name.

G4. What recording device will Skip use?

None (1 point), pen and paper (2 points), cell phone (0.5 points), other (3 points)

Artwork

A1. How many times will this image be used?

Not at all (2.5 points), once (0.1 point), two or more times (2.5 points). Mirrored versions, smaller versions, and slightly edited versions of the image count.

A2. Will there be a word balloon that is more than half the size of the panel?

Yes, No (1 point each), More Than One (4 points)

A3. How many flashback images will there be?

None (2 points), Only One (.5 points), More Than One (1 point)

A4. Will a flashback image include a real person?

Yes, No (1 point each), More Than One (1.5 points). 5 points for any real person you can name.

A5. Will there be a sideways strip?

Yes, No (1 point each), More Than One (5 points)

A6. What early Tom Batiuk artwork will appear?

None (0.5 points), his childhood drawings (1.5 points), pre-Funky Winkerbean work such as Rapping Around (2 points), Funky Winkerbean art (2.5 points), childhood drawings by someone else (5 points)

A7. How many times will Skip smirk?

1 point per smirk, but your guess has to be exactly right. 10,000 points if you predict zero smirks and are correct.

A8. What intellectual property will be appropriated?

DC or Marvel characters (.1 point), characters from other comic strips (.5 points) someone else’s artwork, but you can name the person (2 points).

Subject Matter

M1. Will Batton mention comic books?

No (2 points), Only Once (.1 points), More Than Once (2 points)

M2. In which of the following ways will comic books appear?

Batton failing to get a job at DC or Marvel (.1 point), a comic book cover Batton had no stated role in creating (.1 points), a comic book cover Batton helped create (.2 points), collectible value (.3 points), writing for comic books (.5 points).

M3. Will Batton quote someone?

Yes (1.5 points), No (.5 points). 10 points if you can name them specifically,

M4. Who will Batton name-drop?

5 points for anyone you can name specifically. 10 points if that person hasn’t appeared yet.

M5. Who will Batton bash?

5 points for anyone you can name specifically. 10 points if that person hasn’t appeared yet.

M6. Will Batton act like a complete jackass at some point?

Yes (.0001 points), No (10000 points)

M7. Will Batton talk about doing actual work on Three O’Clock High or The Wrinkles?

Yes (.0001 points), No (10000 points)

M8. How many of the seven deadly sins will Batton commit?

One point for each, but you have to get it exactly right

Roll Your Own!

If you want to make a bet on something other than the above, post it in your comment, and I’ll offer a payout.

Pavlovian Noises Of General Approval

Josh Fruhlinger’s April Fool’s Day post at Comics Curmudgeon included this remark:

This is just another example of (the main characters of Intelligent Life) responding to any cultural reference they recognize with a sort of Pavlovian noise of general approval.

April Fool’s Comics – The Comics Curmudgeon

I’ve been thinking a lot about that phrase, “Pavlovian noise of general approval.” For our purposes, I take the word Pavlovian to mean “expressing a conditioned or predictable reaction.”

Which got me to wondering: is this blog just Pavlovian noises of general disapproval? Are we just throwing red meat at people who enjoy that particular flavor of red meat? Are we no better than the clucking, smirking, comic book-addicted clones of the Funkyverse, who stand around agreeing with each other that all Tom Batiuk’s personal tastes are really neat-o?

I think we are better. And I’ll tell you why.

If you pay $5 to go to a live show, a social contract emerges. You, the ticket-buyer, have an expectation that you will be entertained. You trust the venue to arrange a series of skilled performers that are worth $5 of your money, and two hours of your time. If they don’t deliver, you will be dissatisfied, and advise others not to visit.

The venue probably has expectations of you as well. They may have a dress code; rules about what substances you’re allowed to consume (or possibly required to consume, in the form of a two-drink minimum); and that you don’t disrupt the show to an unacceptable degree.

In comedy clubs, heckling is a part of the show, but there are well-understood standards about what’s too far. I’ve also known comedy clubs to forbid the use of certain words and subject matter. Because there’s a social contract between comedians and clubs as well: break our rules, and we’ll ruin your reputation.

Now think about newspaper comics. There’s a social contract here as well. If we turn to the comics page, then we, the readers, have the right to expect that the cartoonists have made a reasonable attempt to entertain us. We don’t pay that $5 cover charge, but we do invest a little time every day. But when we open the funny pages, what do we see? Roots country music. One man indulging his sexual fetishes. Incoherent sports drama. A parody of an 87-year-old movie. Millennial-bashing, raised to the level of gaslighting. NASCAR jokes that wouldn’t be good enough for a children’s joke book. Whatever Judge Parker is nowadays.

Who the hell is the target audience for any of that?

And I’m not even including strips like Beetle Bailey, Blondie, Curtis, Doonesbury, Garfield, Hagar The Horrible, Herb and Jamaal, Hi and Lois, the aforementioned Intelligent Life, and the many Z-grade Far Side clones. I’m not even including other strips I’m usually critical of: Luann, Mary Worth, and Pluggers. All these strips at least try to honor the social contract of being worth 10 seconds of your time. Though the word “try” is doing a lot of work here.

Now to Funky Winkerbean. It has three clearly defined eras: Act I, when it was a solid satire of high school life; Act II, when it shifted to drama but was still worth following; and Act III, when it became a self-indulgent shitshow about book signings, comic book covers, and multi-month self-interviews.

Who the hell is the target audience for any of those things?

I suspect most of us followed this pattern: liked Funky Winkerbean in Act I, tolerated it in Act II, and were disgusted by it in Act III. The social contract broke down in stages. It went from something that was pretty good, to something that was at least worth 10 seconds a day, to something that angers us so much that we spend a lot more seconds a day hating it.

And now Crankshaft seems to be trying to make people hate it.

Murder In The Burnings: The Trial Continues!

Yes! This story is actually continuing! It’s not an April Fool’s prank, I promise you!

BAILIFF: All rise for the Honorable Collis D. Smizer.

JUDGE: As you were. Next up is the much-delayed case 53766673, the Village Booksmith fire. Now, Mr. Moore, do you have proper counsel?

MR. BREEF: I am Amicus Breef, from the law firm of Westview Community College Discount Legal Services. I will be representing the defendant, Les Moore.

JUDGE: Very good. Welcome, Mr. Breef. Our previous session ended in the middle of cross examination. Mr. Flaherty, would you like to continue?

CONTINUED CROSS EXAMINATION

(Les Moore, having duly been sworn in, testifies as follows:)

PROSECUTOR: Mr. Moore, I was asking you if you remembered a student of yours named Eric “Mooch” Myers. This student of yours was found to have started two different fires in 1999: one during homecoming, and a second during an ordinary school day. Eric initially reported that second fire to the authorities, and was called a hero on local TV news for doing so.

PROSECUTOR: Do you remember these incidents?

LES: Yes.

PROSECUTOR: At the time, you yourself noted that Myers was seeking attention. Correct?

LES: Yes.

PROSECUTOR: I believe this is also why you started the Village Booksmith fire. You saw an opportunity to be the hero again, taking a bold stand against a non-existent enemy of literature. And you took full advantage of it.

LES: I would never put my own friends at risk.

PROSECUTOR: But you did. You already testified that you put Lillian McKenzie at risk, despite her being uncomfortable with this whole situation, when safer options were available. You also had Pete Roberts-Reynolds and Mindy Murdoch help you. Plus bookstore employees Amelia and Emily Matthews. You certainly didn’t mind putting any of them at risk! You let these people – your three friends, and two underage girls – worry about a threat that they thought was real. Eric Myers may have been your student, but it seems you learned a lot from him as well.

LES: Well, that’s what it means to be a teacher.

PROSECUTOR (ignoring Les): Which is also why the fire was laughably small. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt, or even for Lillian to suffer much property damage. Which is why you started the fire at the very bottom of the building’s wooden stairs, when copies of Fahrenheit 451, the supposed target of all this, were upstairs. And you knew that, because you just moved them up those stairs yourself!

This fire was so far away from the books that it couldn’t possibly have reached them. And, it was easily visible from the outside, so it would be seen and put out quickly. All of this is consistent with your motive of wanting to set a fire without actually burning anything.

On top of all that, creosote oil is a wood preservative, as well as a fire accelerant. Which would explain your choice of this unorthodox arson catalyst. You might as well have applied fire-resistant wood sealant to Lillian’s staircase before you set it on fire. Do you deny any of this?

LES: You’re proven nothing.

PROSECUTOR: And what of Lillian herself? She flat-out told you she didn’t feel safe, when you were the one she should have been afraid of all along! And you knew that! An elderly single woman who —

LILLIAN McKENZIE: I’m single because–

UNIDENTIFIED VOICE: We know, Lillian!

JUDGE (banging gavel): Order!

(Order is restored.)

PROSECUTOR: Mr. Moore, do you recognize this document?

LES: It appears to be a sales receipt for an online purchase.

PROSECUTOR: And can you tell the court what items were purchased?

LES: It’s– wait, what? You can’t pull this out on me at the last minute!

MR. BREEF: Your Honor, I object! I want to file a subpoena for the evidence!

LES: What?

(A brief, confused pause.)

JUDGE: Mr. Breef, all the evidence has already been presented, and provided to you. Are you suggesting there is a need to subpoena new evidence?

MR. BREEF: Umm…

JUDGE: Overruled. Lack of relevance. The counselor may continue.

PROSECUTOR: Mr. Moore, this document was given to you during discovery, as was all the other evidence, when you were effectively pro se. It was also given to Mr. Breef as soon as he notified my office that he was your new counsel. We have the electronic records to prove this exchange took place. So I will ask you again, Mr. Moore: will you please tell the court what items were purchased in this receipt? You are under oath.

LES: Ummmm, creosote oil, and a copy of the book Lisa’s Story.

LES: But so what? Anybody could have bought those things.

PROSECUTOR: “A” copy of Lisa’s Story? Can you double-check the quantity?

LES: Uh, three.

PROSECUTOR: Three?

LES: Hundred.

LILLIAN (from the audience): Hey!

PROSECUTOR (in full “the defendant is full of shit and I’m about to prove it” mode): Now, who on earth needs to buy 300 copies of the same book? Other than the man who wrote that book, and does frequent public signings of that book?

LES: Maybe the buyer wanted to read it more than once?

(No one laughs.)

LILLIAN: You bastard!

JUDGE: Order! Ms. McKenzie, no more outbursts, or I will ask you to leave.

(Lillian sits down.)

PROSECUTOR: Can you also tell me the quantity of the creosote oil?

LES: 20 liters.

PROSECUTOR: And who is the purchaser on this invoice?

LES (scanning the document): Well, I can already see it’s not me, it’s the…

LES: Lisa’s Legacy Foundation.

PROSECUTOR: And are you the director of the Lisa’s Legacy Foundation?

LES: Yes.

PROSECUTOR (blatantly hamming it up now): Why does a charitable organization need creosote oil at all? Much less 20 liters of it?

LES: Is it too late to change my plea?


April fools! It really wasn’t a prank. I let this story sit way too long, and I thought it would be a nice surprise to finally deliver the goods. My re-telling of The Burnings will resume on a more regular basis soon. Really. Also, last year’s prank was going to be hard to top.

Past installments of the story were:

Today’s installment was Chapter 9. Stay tuned for Chapter 10!

Batton Thomas, You Asked For It. Luann DeGroot, You Too.

Recently, the comic strip Luann has been irritating me almost as much as the Batton Death March, which begins its 11th week today. Luann‘s tedious story arc is about a “Career Paths” class, which seems to be the only class the title character is taking in her 27th semester of junior college.

I decided to improve both stories, by crashing them into each other.

Text that appears in the standard Crankshaft or Luann font is unedited from the original strip, except for minor rewording, and sometimes being paired with different artwork.

Warning: The parody story text contains lots of foul language.

NOTE: Those are parallelograms, not triangles.

The end.