Meanwhile, Back At The Dick Cave…

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BatNom got me again. Every single time I openly pray for a lengthy FW arc to end, every time I desperately plead for something…ANYTHING…else, he puts the zap on me and delivers a dose of Dick Facey, which always leaves me yearning for more of whatever we just suffered through again. It’s a vicious circle, an endless cycle of tedium. The man certainly has a gift.

Anyhow, the execrable Boy Lisa is on the phone for some ominous reason thus Cayla has to dutifully sleuth about the Dick Cave to ensure she won’t be interrupting The Delicate Genius while he’s penning this year’s paragraph about his dead wife because WE CAN’T HAVE THAT!!!! Why Boy Lisa wants to speak to his bi0-stepfather is beyond me, although that Lisa connection alone gives me plenty of reasons to start “uh-oh”-ing.

Typical Cayla, always on eggshells around Les. It’s kind of telling how she has to trudge outside on another sub-arctic Ohio day to bring the phone to Les, as opposed to Les simply picking up his OWN phone instead. I guess when he retires to “The Genius Works” studio he leaves his phone behind, lest it interferes with whatever weird Lisa-related thing he’s (ewwww) doing in there.

“Honey, if any dear friends or Lisa’s bio-kids call, should I disturb you in your creative sanctuary or leave you alone lest I disrupt the painful creative process?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother me today…I’ve, uh, got some old Lisa tapes I have to, uh, catalog.”

“Oh, OK. But this time could you please close the blinds? Thanks!”

I’m Already Dreading 2021

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Finally. It appears that our national nightmare is over…for now, anyway. Funky has his license and, well, Funky has his license. He can bitch all he likes but damn, that Ohio BMV is really on the ball. He wrapped up his entire ordeal in a day which IMO is remarkable. I wasn’t really sure what BMV Guy was laughing at, I assume it’s Funky’s DL photo but who the hell really knows?

Of course, this is FW and often times things suddenly go from bad to worse. Judging by Dick Facey’s presence in the header it looks like something even worse is on the horizon, which seems impossible right now but there you go.

You’ll Need More Than That To Save THAT Ass

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Too bad there wasn’t a self-destruct button. That’s a fairly advanced feature for an Estonian surplus car, I have to admit. Funky’s parallel parking skills probably come in real handy when navigating Westview’s bustling downtown area, or when he enlists a couple of moderately-sized people to push that thing off the road when it breaks down again. Sweet mother of God I hope this means he passed, got his license back and this thing ends already because he’s entering “book-launch-tour” territory here with this solid month of Funky’s boring antics. You know things are challenging when you’re yearning for a week of Wally or Owen or ANYTHING but more Funky.

What’s So Funny ‘Bout Pizza, Love And Understanding?

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“In a world of hurt”???? Sorry, officer, he was already like that when he arrived at the BMV. “I have to get back there”…yeah, wouldn’t want to miss that huge dinner rush or anything and it’s doubtful that the “staff” (aka half the town) could handle it without the fat, shiftless, stupid Funky on the premises.

“Your pizzas are my favorite”….favorite what? Pizza? Rat-killing method? Fertilizer? The list is endless. As is this arc, which apparently will just go on and on and on until literally everyone stops reading FW thereby fulfilling BanTom’s fondest wish…complete and total anonymity.

And you know, in spite of Funky’s incessant whining, this fictional Ohio BVM is actually quite an efficient operation. Funky lets his DL lapse for a year, shows up with all the wrong documents and somehow manages to re-take the road test all within a few hours. In NJ that would take seven separate visits and a minimum of several months, at a minimum. So really it just makes his endless griping seem all the more petty, obnoxious and stupid.

Long Term Failing

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A funnier premise would have been to simply have Funky get nabbed parking in a handicapped spot, then pouring forth his litany of woe to the cop who eventually (weepingly) agrees that yeah, Funky Winkerbean is definitely “handicapped” all right. It’s a pretty ham-fisted gag that will probably annoy way more people than it amuses, unless it’s taped to the door at traffic court or something, as nothing spells out “I’m a real dick” better than blithely parking in a handicapped space. Maybe tomorrow he could operate heavy machinery while taking prescription drugs or block the intersection at every red light.

Normally Les is the “total jerk-off” character, Funky was always more of an affable-yet-eternally downtrodden sad-sack. Suddenly though, we’re seeing a pissier side of the Funk-Man, going back to Bull’s retirement game where Funky sat in the crowd disinterestedly cracking wise about WHS’ beloved brain-damaged football coach. And I don’t like it one bit, either.

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