Son of Stuck Funky

Testimony Of Student

My retelling of The Burnings continues. All episodes of the retelling appear under the “Burnings” tag.) A recap of previous episodes:

Prologue 1: If The Burnings Were A Movie, You’d Walk Out. Let’s Write A Better One.
Prologue 2: Murder In The Burnings: The Minor Suspects
Prologue 3: Murder In The Burnings: The Major Suspects
Chapter 1: Testimony Of Nate Green
Chapter 2: Testimony Of Arson Investigator
Chapter 3: Further Testimony Of Blaise Ashcomb
Chapter 4: Testimony Of Skip Rawlings
Chapter 5: Testimony Of Police Investigator

Chapter 6 begins now.

PROSECUTOR: Please state your full name.

CHRISTOPHER: Christopher J. Bland, but I go by Chris.

PROSECUTOR: You are a student at Westview High School, is that correct?

CHRISTOPHER: Yes.

Hope you all had an awesome Christmas and a beautiful Boxing Day. I had originally hoped this post would go up Christmas Day. But I let that dream die, as on a foggy Christmas Eve I sat alone at my kitchen table, building a massive wall of unfrosted cookies like I was running on a platform of Make Baking Great Again.

I spent Christmas Day being hostess, and the days following recovering from the insulin shock resulting from the three pounds of assorted baked goods I’d consumed all at once.

But, finally, a Funky Winkerbean Christmas post I’ve been baking up for a while.

WARNING: LES MOORE ARCHIVE APPEARANCES EN ROUTE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. THOSE WITH SENSITIVE STOMACHS AND WEAK CONSTITUTIONS ARE ADVISED FOR THEIR OWN SAFETY TO USE DISCRETION.

The Dinkle Curse

Tree is finally trimmed with all the baubles and boops.

Just a short trip down Funky Archive Lane this post.

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.

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.