I have often said that the Funkyverse is very meanspirited, in ways that are hard to quantify. Ed spending two of the last three weeks under his bed is a perfect example of that. While the story appears benign on the surface, it forces us to make a lot of discomforting assumptions about the world these people inhabit.
In art, negative space is the empty space around to the subject of an image. Negative space can be used to give the image balance, or to convey additional meaning. Especially in corporate logos. It also makes a good metaphor for this tendency of the Funkyverse.
I call it Emotional Negative Space: the unpleasant things Tom Batiuk’s writing forces the reader to assume, in order for a scene to make any sense.
The Funkyverse is inoffensive on the surface. Bland characters smirk at each other about the author’s many boring hobbies. But if we look at the negative space around the story – the assumptions that it requires – we can see how nasty it really is. And this is a particularly nasty arc.
A senior citizen suddenly hiding under their bed is a concerning sign. They may be anxious, afraid (perhaps of something that doesn’t exist), trying to regain control of their surroundings, or otherwise coping with dementia. Or it could be something more straightforward, like they’ve begun soiling themselves and are hiding their damaged clothes. Or they’re just ashamed of themselves. Many posters have mentioned seeing their loved ones decline, and lose their independence, as they aged. It’s not a fun thing to see.
In last Monday’s strip, Ed is hiding under the bed and refusing to go to work. We just saw Ed come back from an international trip, so he has no problems with mobility, unless they just started. Ed is also a pretty fearless guy. So this is very out of character.
On Tuesday, Pam is telling Ed (who is her father) that he’s “got to come out from under the bed!” Which is even more out of character. She’s got an angry look on her face, and her arms crossed in a demanding pose she never uses any other time. Especially not when Ed is about to do another $25,000 worth of property damage. Or when Jeff brought her a rock after almost getting himself killed in Bronson Canyon.
In good writing, someone behaving out of character can suggest that this a serious moment. Like when Calvin was heartbroken about the baby raccoon dying, or when the bookish Marcie slugged that sexist prick Thibault. But that’s not the kind of writing we get in this feature. We know the author better than that. This is a week of gag strips! By a man who thinks writing gag strips is beneath him.
By giving one of the characters cancer, (Tom Batiuk) was announcing that comic strips, like comic books, need not be restricted to gag-a-day formats and juvenile subjects. This was even more apparent when the same character’s cancer returned with a vengeance in 2007.
Okay, time to be serious again. Let’s consider the emotional negative space of this moment. Ed is being told he must go to work instead of hiding under the bed. I have just one question:
Why?
Seriously, why does Ed have to go to work? Why can’t he just stay home, or quit his job if he wants to? In a competently written feature, the reason might be “we need the money.” But motivations in the Funkyverse are never as straightforward or realistic as that.
Please note that I’m not being snarky here. I have said nothing about Crankshaft being a jerk who’s intentionally bad at his job; his addiction to online shopping; his propensity for wrecking other people’s stuff; or the male characters’ tendency to be dominated by women in mommy roles. I am trying to engage the feature on its own terms. I’m trying to understand why this scene exists in a “quarter inch from reality” world. It is cruel. It is abusive. It offers no justification for itself. And it is Dude, Not Funny.
I did mention Crankshaft’s age, because it’s relevant to the question of why he needs to go to work. However you want to carbon-date Ed’s life, he is at least three decades into his retirement years. Because his daughter Pam is at least one decade into hers! She and Jeff were traditional-age college students during the 1970 Kent State shootings. Do the math.
And don’t tell me “Timemop.” Timemop has no power here. Ordinary people in realistic worlds can’t live, work, spend unlimited money, get book contracts, and remain absurdly active into their 90s without supernatural involvement becoming obvious. Does anyone remember the movie Cocoon?
Ed seems to be having some kind of panic attack. But nobody ever acknowledges this, or expresses a drop of concern for him. They don’t consider that Ed may be getting too old for day-to-day work. Or that his concerns might be valid. We saw the school children drive an implied Hell’s Angel into quitting during the “bus driver shortage” arc, so he may have good reason to fear them. Which is another justification this story could have used, but didn’t: the community needs him to fill his role during a shortage of qualified bus drivers.
Ed is shown zero compassion, and is browbeaten off-camera into going back to work. And we’re never told why. Did he just cave? If so, to what? To the spineless Pam? Seriously? We don’t know what convinced him to go back to work, or what really drove him under the bed in the first place. He mentions a couple things, but they’re just cheap jokes.
Batiuk is never clear about how his audience is supposed to react to things like this. When Calvin and Marcie broke character, it was serious business, and the tone of the stories reflected that. Batiuk’s tone is all over the place, so we can’t make the inferences we need to.
We have to provide the subtext ourselves, because Batiuk won’t. And the only logical subtext is that Ed’s family is ignoring his distress, and what appears to be some troubling behavior.
Son of Stuck Funky 