Deck the Dink (With Boughs of Nettles)

The sickening mess of regurgitated Dinkle glurge of the last two weeks has finally, (and hopefully only briefly,) broken BJ6K. I shot him an email this afternoon, asking if he had anything cooking, and the reply I got was as defeated as a starving spider trapped in the bottom of a slippery bathtub, crouched over the drain, exhausted and silently begging you with all eight of its beady little eyes to finally turn on the spigot.

Continue reading “Deck the Dink (With Boughs of Nettles)”

Whatever Happened To The Industrial Arts Teacher?

Oh goody. That wacky Dinkle is overworking high school students again. I would roll my eyes, but in the Funkyverse that’s interpreted as a gesture of approval. I would yawn, except that Dinkle’s behavior towards his performers makes me want to call the police instead.

The punchline of the December 2 strip was that Centerview High School’s band was being conducted by the industrial arts teacher. Dinkle reacts snidely to this, because he’s a complete jackass, but also because this is Not Doing Things Correctly. And if there’s one thing the Funkyverse will not stand for, it’s people Not Doing Things Correctly.

When I heard about the industrial arts teacher conducting a band, I immediately thought of this:

I imagined this industrial arts teacher was a secret John Cage fan, and started to put together a performance of holiday music played entirely on tools from shop class. He worked all night on it, and was all ready to present it to the principal, when he was told “Uh, yeah… about that…. Harry Dinkle waltzed through the front door and demanded to be put in charge, so now he’s conducting the holiday concert. Sorry.”

For a comic strip that runs on mundane tragedies, it sure does ignore mundane tragedies. Because they’re not important unless they’re happening to Les, Dinkle, Lillian, Funky, Skip, Batton Thomas, or a comic book.

All of Dinkle’s failings as as a character have been pretty thoroughly documented here by now. My main beef with this week’s travesty is something else that’s been pretty thoroughly documented too; Tom Batiuk’s inability to get to the point. It took six days to get Dinkle waving his little stick again. It could have been done in two panels:

Dinkle conducting a high school band is Tom Batiuk’s idea of fan service. He thinks everybody loves it when Dinkle or Ed Crankshaft gives children PTSD. So why does it him so long to get on with it? Dinkle had to learn about the opening, be bribed into pursuing it (huh ??!!), show up at the school office, walk into the band room, and announce his rules before the first note is played. Which was terrible of course, and was met with his usual response.

You know what we didn’t see, though? Dinkle convincing this school to give him the job. Say what you will about Dinkle; he’s persuasive. He can sell the stupidest things door-to-door, and talk people into giving him jobs when his reputation should make him radioactive. This is the part of the Dinkle story I’d actually want to see: the snake oil salesman making his pitch.

Think of John Candy in Plains Trains and Automobiles. He talked strangers into helping him, sold shower curtain rings to raise money, and made Steve Martin see the value of keeping him around. He was a genuinely good salesman. He pulled his weight in getting them home, despite being extremely annoying.

But that’s not what gets emphasized in the Funkyverse. What does get emphasized in the Funkyverse? The main character being catered to. It’s always the same template. Character shows up, announces how talented they are, gets everything they want handed to them, and the world fawns over them. Even people who would have way more power, like Les Moore’s Hollywood overseers. Automobiles would been way less charming if John Candy just showed up everywhere and said “Hi, I’m the world’s greatest salesman, and I demand your only hotel room.” Then it cuts to the “two pillows” scene. (Actually, that scene would never happen in Funky Winkerbean, because it was legit funny.)

This is why Tom Batiuk can’t get to the point. He thinks “The talent is here, kiss my ring now” is the point. And if you know Tom Batiuk’s real-life frustrations with Hollywood, and with never getting hired by DC or Marvel, you can see why he thinks that. It’s the reaction he thinks he should get.

Testimony Of Police Investigator

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

PROSECUTOR: Please state your name and position.

HARSHMAN: I am Detective Leo Harshman of the county police. My jurisdiction includes both Westview and Centerville.

PROSECUTOR: And you were the lead detective for the Village Booksmith fire, correct?

HARSHMAN: Yes, I was.

PROSECUTOR: In your own words, can you describe the events of the night of September 16?

HARSHMAN: I got a routine call to investigate a code 11-71C.

PROSECUTOR: 11-71C? Can you explain to the court what that means?

HARSHMAN: 11-71 is a standard police code for fire. We add the letter C to mean the fire is known or suspected to be caused by Ed Crankshaft.

SPECTATOR: Hey! I re-assemble that remark!

THE JUDGE: (bangs gavel) The spectators will remain quiet at all times. Please continue, Detective Harshman.

HARSHMAN: The dispatcher gave an address, which means it didn’t happen at Crankshaft’s house, which  is a little unusual. But I knew the address was right next door.

PROSECUTOR: You were familiar with the address?

HARSHMAN: Yes, local first responders know Mr. Crankshaft personally.

PROSECUTOR: What happened when you responded to the call?

HARSHMAN: Well, 11-71C has a reputation for being, well, a waste of the officer’s time. We usually give them to rookies. 

THE JUDGE: Detective Harshman, we’ve had a talk about you maintaining a professional tone when you’re giving testimony. It is common for people involved in the case to be spectators in the courtroom, which is clearly happening right now.

HARSHMAN: I’m sorry, Your Honor. Anyway, when I got the scene, it was obvious this was something different. There was creosote oil poured  all over the place, and the victim Lillian McKenzie was unusually distressed. I called the state arson investigator to come out, and secured the crime scene.

PROSECUTOR: What did securing the crime scene entail?

HARSHMAN: I marked off the area with tape, told Lillian not to use or let anyone use the burned stairs, and that she had to close the bookstore until further notice.

PROSECUTOR: What was her response to that?

HARSHMAN: She – said she would not comply with this lawful order. Her exact words were, “My neighborhood isn’t zoned business, the town can’t tell me what to do.”

PROSECUTOR: What happened after that?

HARSHMAN: I added her comment to my report in case somebody got hurt and tried to sue the town, and made a mental note to report her to the state Attorney General. Again. 

PROSECUTOR: Let me rephrase that. What happened later in the evening?

HARSHMAN: There was a call for a 10-100, Civil Disturbance, at the same address, about 2:30 in the morning.

PROSECUTOR: What did you think was happening?

HARSHMAN: I had no idea. The whole thing made no sense. It was an obvious arson, and the last thing an arsonist would do is go back to the scene later that night. Whoever committed this arson obviously didn’t know what they were doing. 

PROSECUTOR: You responded to the second call? 

HARSHMAN: Yes.

PROSECUTOR: Please describe what happened.

HARSHMAN: When I pulled up to the house the second time, people started running off in all directions. It looked like a high school party was breaking up because the cops arrived. That’s honestly what I thought it was, but about half the people stayed.

PROSECUTOR: Who were those people?

HARSHMAN: Mostly neighbors, and friends of Lillian and the bookstore. I recognized Harry Dinkle, The World’s Greatest Band Director.

THE JUDGE: Mr. Harshman, please do not give your opinion unless you are asked for it.

HARSHMAN: No, Your Honor, I wasn’t. That’s actually his legal name. He changed it to that.

THE JUDGE: I apologize, Officer.

HARSHMAN: Shall I continue?

THE JUDGE: Please do.

HARSHMAN: The people at the scene were counter-protestors, and told us they were supporting Lillian McKenzie against some protestors. Something about some book, “Fahrenheit” something. I called in a 10-101 for assistance with the public disturbance, and asked officers to pull over anyone who appeared to be running from the scene, or was out driving in the middle of the night. There was a good chance one of these people was our arsonist. I also made one arrest at the scene.

PROSECUTOR: Who did you arrest at the scene and why?

HARSHMAN: Pete Roberts-Reynolds, the owner of Montoni’s Pizza. He was charged with a 5th degree felony under section 2921.31, for interfering with a police investigation.

PROSECUTOR: What did he do?

HARSHMAN: I said earlier that I secured the crime scene with tape. Roberts-Reynolds had removed some of the tape, and was wearing it as some kind of costume.

PROSECUTOR: What did you do next?

HARSHMAN: I brought Roberts-Reynolds back to the station for questioning, formally charged him, and released him on his own recognizance about 5 AM. He seemed very tired, he had these bags under his eyes. But we determined he was not a suspect in the arson, just a mo– misguided person.

PROSECUTOR: Were there any other arrests?

HARSHMAN: No arrests, but several people were caught by other officers, and many of them were charged with misdemeanors.

PROSECUTOR: What were they charged with?

HARSHMAN: Most of them were under 18, so mostly curfew violations.

PROSECUTOR: Lillian McKenzie testified that the protestors dispersed when she pointed out her surveillance camera. Did you review the video?

HARSHMAN: There was no video to review.

PROSECUTOR: Why not?

HARSHMAN: Because that’s not a camera, that’s a floodlight. That doesn’t even look like a camera. If that was a camera, it was pointed the same place as where the fire started, and I would have had to do a lot less police work to do.

Thank the Lord and Pass the Pepto Bismol.

Funky Winkerbean’s First Thanksgiving, 1972.

A list of all the things I’m thankful for?

I’m thankful my mom bribed me with 200 dollars cash to bleach wash my older brother’s warcrime of a bathroom ahead of my sister and her ever expanding army of giggling, tripping-hazards from arriving.

I’m thankful for the stubborn resiliency of 80’s era plastics that allow my fat ass to crouch sit with my nephew on the vintage Little Tikes picnic table we hoarded in an old hog shed for thirty years for just this occasion.

I’m thankful for the current grocery store price war going on in my town that made it so I could transform ten cans of green beans and this pile of processed dairy:

Into this glorious tapestry of saturated fat:

All without mortgaging my action figure collection.

I’m thankful for this wonderful blog. And all the readers and commenters who have supported the SOSF crew in the last two years as we transitioned into a new form. I’m thankful for your patience. Your enthusiasm. Your passion to deep dive, discuss, and dissect, and snark.

I’m thankful that Batiuk has let slip that the abysmal horror of modern Crankshaft will be continuing for at least another year, so I have another year to spend here with you.

And I’m so thankful that Batiuk has promised that soon the full Funky and Cranky archives will be on GoComics so I can stop emailing myself photos of physical comic book pages.

And yet, I’m also thankful for those bulky, overpriced monuments to one man’s hubris. And also so thankful for that silly old coot himself, whatever his ignoble fall from the dizzying heights of average.

1973

1974
1974
1975