BOY I CAN’T WAIT FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK OF THE SAME 12 BATTON THOMAS HEADS PASTED OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN YES SIR.
We are reaching levels of pointless navel gazing approaching the mythical.
And I don’t even sit here wondering, “Who is this for?”
Because it’s for Tom. No one else.
As he nears his twilight hours, he looks back on his life and sees that his artistic ambition has only produced one massive work of significance: The Funkyverse, and he must achieve immortality within it.
Tom, like a dying replicant on a rainy roof, is overcome with the compulsion to speak aloud to his captive audience all the profound experiences recorded in his decaying brain.
“I’ve seen things you snarkers wouldn’t believe. Rainy leaves mouldering inside a dampened portfolio. Book signings inside voluminous convention halls. A rock with a weird notch in it. All those moments will be lost in time, like newsprint in mulch. Time to die.”
(Bloggers Note: Sorry I’ve been an absentee blogmeister for the last couple weeks. Dad’s been expecting more outta me lately as far as farm work goes, and so my mental batteries were pretty depleted. Thanks so much to Banana Jr. for being a champ teammate on this and picking up some of the slack. Love you all, and hope to be back in the snarking saddle again!)
Ol’ Cranky is far from the craggiest old mug on Washington Square. As a century plus of beautiful New York air, friendly New York critters, and civic minded New Yorker’s meant that Washington’s head from the statue on his arch is more spackle and epoxy than marble at this point. Madonna would be envious of these fillers.
At first, I was offended on behalf of this landmark. After all, it was erected to celebrate the centennial of the inauguration of our own nation’s Cincinnatus. The man who probably could have taken power for life, and instead released the reins. We can celebrate now nearly three centuries with no lifelong tyrants. (Except, according to my dad, FDR. But that’s getting us too close to politics again!)
The triumphal arch was designed by Stanford White, architect of many impressive edifices; not least of which included his impressively groomed mustache.
like a tiny hair bird about to take flight
Unfortunately, I learned in my research today that moustaches weren’t the only thing Stanford liked to groom. I guess the Pedostache can be traced further back than I’d first assumed.
In 1906, this Victorian Bryan Singer of balustrades attended the premiere of Mamzelle Champagne at Madison Square Garden. During the big finale number, “I Could Love A Million Girls” Stanford White was shot dead by the disgruntled (and equally abusive) husband of one of his alleged victims.
So I’m no longer enamoured of Washington Square’s crumbly little arch. It serving no greater function than reminding a crotchety old tourist of foot pain seems appropriate.
Just a quick one today, as I’m sure BJ6K is cooking up an Epic Rap Battle of History between Les Moore and Wilbur Weston.
But this panel. This panel confirms to my tinfoil, self-centered brain that Batiuk reads the comments here and elsewhere. As I have explained this way of differentiating the DoubleDumb twins on many an occasion.
When Batiuk half-randomly decided last year to hypercharge Emily and Amelia Mathews-Reynolds from precocious 12-year-olds to high schoolers, I wonder if he knew how much it was going to shoot those characters in the foot.
Whereas Emily and Amelia as kids had about a decade of strip time and dozens and dozens of appearances to pull art from, Emily and Amelia as high schoolers have an insanely limited number of strips, only 52, to copy pasta from. And many of those are hampered by the twins just being blonde heads in a sea of classroom faces.
Additionally, a few Emily and Amelia strips come from the Burchett era, meaning posting them in with Ayers lines leads to weird effects. Like when Simpsons met Family Guy.
“You, the first person to encounter my comics for at least forty years, beware. Do not feel honored by your primacy in reading the revelations of my illustrated storehouse. You will find much pain in it. Other than the few jokes required to assure me that the Golden Syndication continued, I never wanted to progress beyond those first decades. Therefore, I am not sure what the events in my archives may signify to your times. I only know that my artists have suffered oblivion and that the events which I recount have undoubtedly been submitted to distortion for eons. I assure you that the ability to preview our future strips can become a bore. Even to be thought of as a joke, as I certainly was, can become ultimately boring. It has occurred to me more than once that boredom is good and sufficient reason for the invention of shitposting.“
Say what you want about this week of weird nonsensical garden technology in Crankshaft; at least it has Crankshaft in it. Crankshaft doing something silly, over the top, and perfectly in his established character. It’s like a refreshing breath of stale, canned, hospital air after being locked in a broken morgue refrigerator on a sweltering hot day.
Furthermore, I almost found it relatable. My dad finally got steering assist in his planting tractor this year. And after grousing and bitching about it for two weeks while he was figuring it out, he became absolutely giddy when he realized the GPS and computer positioning along with his monitor meant he could plant after dark. You better believe there were some late nights after that.
yay
So I’m giving this week of Crankshaft a pass.
What about Chien circa 2000? Does she get a pass?
That depends.
We know that Chien will soon be part of a Very Special Storyline on Bullying. But here, we get a clear instance of her bullying someone else for the sake of a joke.
Let us not forget that Matt’s learning struggles and abusive home life had already been mined for drama and Freudian excuses two years earlier.
BARF. But it’s obvious that if Les Moore is feeling bad for Matt and telling him that he lashes out and fails because he doesn’t like himself, that we are supposed to take that as truth and as how we the audience are supposed to feel.
And now Chien is loudly telling Matt to keep his stupid mouth shut because he’s an idiot caveman, and Les Moore doesn’t do a thing.
In the ye’ olden days of early Act I this joke could totally pass without comment. Because Funky Winkerbean in the olden days was cynical and satirical and existed in an amoral world of universal dickery.
And it is believable for Chien, sarcastic and outspoken misanthrope that she is, to say something like this to Matt. I don’t mind that she’s a snarky bitch. I care that the narrative doesn’t seem to realize the double standard. Not to victim blame…but I’m going to victim blame. Matt isn’t an idiot.
This is the sort of test-taking cunning they teach you in SAT prep classes.
In the real world, Matt would be able to tell that Chien has nothing but disdain for him, and his interests. That she completely mentally dehumanizes him, has tossed him in the ‘useless troglodyte plie’, and gets smug satisfaction from feeling superior to him. Why would he ever treat her nicely?
More than that, she’s even snarky and cruel to Mooch. A kid so desperate to be liked he tried to burn the school down.
Ha ha, Les is smiling. It’s so funny when Chien bullies dumb male students. Since Les has labeled her ‘victim’ in his mind anything she does is fine and justified.
Les in this era is at his MOST insufferable to me. Because Batiuk loves to show him teaching and preaching. I much prefer Les crying over his dead wife to this smug, smirking, slimy, nonsense.
Yes. So deep. You should never plan too far ahead when writing. Just kind of hack away at the prose right in front of you without careful consideration for where all of this is going. It always works. Just ask George RR Martin.
Facts.
See. Here we get a more thoughtful, Chien. Once who thinks things through and isn’t afraid to push back against what she’s being taught and ask hard questions. Once again. I’m not against the way she acts, but more how it’s framed in the narrative.
CRANKY CROSSOVER ADVENTURES!!!!!
ohplsohplsohplsohpls pls commit murder live on air les please pls.
HA. HA HA HA. No Notes. Acceptable target. 100 points to Chien.
Son of Stuck Funky 