Category: Son of Stuck Funky

That Which Survives

Link to today’s strip.

You know, if I were a callous, horrid, jobless beady-eyed nitpicker, I’d be damned tempted to say that this strip is posted above the ol’ FW drawing board as a motto of inspiration.  Or at least a plan.  “Tell fewer jokes.”

In fairness, Batiuk is right that the vast majority of “I’m going to get healthy” resolutions are quickly abandoned.  (in unfairness, it should be noted this is another hardly a new insight.  Jokes of this nature have been in the comics for decades.)  I actually belong to a gym, and when January rolls around, the place is stuffed to the gills.

But it never lasts.  Tonight, a little over three weeks into the new year, the levels are back down to normal.  Exercise is hard work, and it tends to be dull, too; you really have to push yourself to stay with it.  Once you get past a certain threshold, though, you find your body needs it and it becomes far less of a chore.

As for Funky, I seriously doubt his exercise arc will continue past this week, for two reasons.  The first is that Funky is far too passive, depressive and weak-willed to make any significant change in his downward spiral.  I’m always amazed to see him in the strip, as it means he’s managed to haul himself out of bed.

The second reason is that, even by Funky Winkerbean standards, this has been one damned boring storyline.   I think stretching it beyond a week would tax Tom Batiuk’s abilities, though I confess I wouldn’t put it past him to try.

The Deadly Years

Link to today’s strip.

Hey, Funky, I have a better idea–how about if you wish you were the way you were thirty years ago?  That would take you back to when you were kind of funny.  Going back twenty years means you’re going to have to go through all that again–the alcoholism, the divorce, the beginning of the unending spiral toward the heat death of the universe.  Only this time you’ll have to watch, helpless, as it all happens again.

An even better idea–why don’t you wish you were thirty years older?   That way Cory can take you to the food court, and you can complain that the sandwiches are way too big.   And you’ll be that much closer to death’s sweet embrace.

Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

Link to today’s strip.

It’s hard to think of a Funky Winkerbean character more boring than Funky himself.  It’s also hard to think of one for which Tom Batiuk has such obvious loathing.

I’ve mentioned a theory before that the fortunes of the Funky cast rise and fall with how their real-life counterparts interact with Batiuk himself.   Bull, for example, once the hated bully jock, now enjoys a fairly elevated status in Westview.  Oh sure, he’s overworked and the teams he coaches lose every game, but recall how this is presented.  The overwork makes him heroic, and the losses are always, always the fault of the players–those damn kids again.

Funky seems to be an especially sad example.  Once the star of the strip as a bright-eyed and observant teen, since his real-life counterpart obviously had a massive falling out with Les Moore TomBatiuk, he’s now a sad sack of failure and ennui.  And we’re going to watch a week of him talking about how impossible it will be for him to improve his lot.

Imagine if this arc would be about Les instead.  Why, on Saturday, Les would be extolling his newfound healthy regimen, preaching to all who could control their impulse to punch his face in.  Remember, it was Les Moore who climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, and Funky Winkerbean who collapsed a few feet into the last Lisa’s Legacy run.

How have the mighty fallen.

By Any Other Name

Link to today’s strip.

Well, I’m not sure what to say about this one.  Apparently, “customer service” has never made its way into Westview; I recall Dinkle being similarly insulted by a party-store clerk way back when. I’m sure there are other cases my mind refuses to recall.   Perhaps that’s why Khahn’s place went out of business–he just kept heaping the insults onto anyone who walked into the shop.

Of course, maybe I’m not looking at this from a sympathetic perspective–I imagine it must be hard to be confronted with a Dinkle, a Winkerbean or a Moore and not blurt out some measure of the instant loathing that rises in your gorge.  We are, after all, only human.