Terribull

Link to today’s strip.

I actually laughed at today’s episode.  Not because of the “joke” or anything, but because of the way Bull is drawn in panel one.  With his oversized head, he looks like a giant, enraged baby.

And the idea of a giant, enraged baby running out onto a football field, arms a-flappin’, all red-faced and colicky, is funnier than anything seen in this strip in a long, long time.

Other than that, now that we’ve gone from three full days of talking about Bull to actually seeing Bull in action, nothing’s really changed.  All this has happened about a hundred times before.  Bull is a terrible coach who hates his players and is certain the season is doomed.  I almost put myself to sleep just typing that out, it’s so boring.  Maybe Tom Batiuk has a point in having characters discuss things off-stage; it saves him having to draw action.

Of course, we’d miss out on the giant, enraged babies dashing out onto the field.  Personally, I’d miss that a lot.

Is Tom Batiuk really going to be doing this for another five and a half years?  Jesus wept.

Good Thing Watch:  that giant, enraged baby.  Every time I look at that, it makes me happy.

A Friend to the Animals

Link to today’s strip.

Just when you think hatred of Les Moore can’t possibly get any deeper, he steps up to the plate and knocks another one out of the park.

“It’s funny,” Les says, “but you’ve given me the opportunity to tell you how awesome I am, in that I beat Bull at tennis recently.”

Funky’s face in panel two:  Here it comes.

“Like you,” Les continues, “he’s just a loser through and through–unlike myself, naturally, who is awesome at everything and should be admired and given prizes.”

What a wonderful friend.  Say, Funky, what do you suppose Les says about you behind your back? You can be sure it isn’t complimentary!  Because you don’t deserve compliments.  Not like Les Moore.

Isn’t it just terrific that Les Moore condescends to share his time with the shuffling, gelid animals that inhabit Westview.  How nice it is of him to pat them on the head and offer stories of his life to offset their weak-kneed misery.  Without his presence, they might be happy never know the marvelous entity that is Les Moore.  Has any man done so much for those who deserve so little?  Allowing them to share his light, so that the shadows don’t fall so heavily on them…gosh!  What a guy!

Les Moore is the one thing in this strip that puts it straight into fantasy, because in real life, no one would have anything to do with this loathsome man.

Good Thing Watch:  Les’ head in panel one.  It looks like it’s been thoroughly wrung out by the Hulk.  A Scene We’d Like To See (tip of the felt tip to Mad magazine).

 

Bullpun

Link to today’s strip.

Lack of Les Moore crotch shots is a definite improvement, and the pun is kind of clever.  I like the implication in panel one that Les is sticking his lips out as far as he can, trying to do a good duck imitation.  It’s rather poor but at least it’s an attempt.

However, the strip is still just two guys talking.  It’s a boring conversation about things happening to other people who are elsewhere.

It’s a strip designed to take up space.  There is no other purpose.  No plot is being advanced, no wisdom dispensed, and the pun isn’t that good.  And when the action consists of someone pouring a pot of coffee into a mug, maybe it’s time to rename this strip to something more accurate, like “How sedimentary rocks form” or perhaps “I don’t care.”

Why not try to show, instead of constantly telling?  I suppose the answer is, because showing is difficult.  It requires work.  Planning.  And the reward isn’t worth it.

I think we’re past any changes in the way the strip unfolds..  Like Funky, it’s ossified and congealed into a barely moveable mass.  Maybe we should look at Funky’s disgusted expression in panel three and figure, yeah, that’s about right.  That’s how this strip rolls.  Or stays put, actually.

In all honesty, I would love to find things to praise in this strip.  Reading each painfully bad episode is a chore; there’s rarely any relief from the omnipresent gloom that hangs over this thing.  It gets old, really fast.  My recollection of Act I was that it was also not action-packed; like Act III it was just people taking, but were talking to each other, about each other, and at the end of the talking there was a joke, and sometimes the joke was pretty funny.  I know that’s an awful lot to ask these days.

An awful, awful lot.

Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God

Link to today’s strip.

There are a lot of folks nowadays who despair over the state of the world.  Folks who are religious tell us that, although things may seem bad, God is a kind and loving father who watches over us all, and offers hope to mankind with the promise of ultimate goodness.  I guess my question is then, if God loves us all, why did He allow panel two to come into being?  It seems to me that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for a lot less than a Les Moore crotch shot.  In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king, unless that man reads Funky Winkerbean.  Suddenly, having an eye is the worst thing ever.  If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out!  Or, you know, burn the newspaper.

Perhaps this is God’s way of telling us that we’d better shape up, because the horrors of Hell are far more horrible than we are capable of imagining.  In other words…things can get worse than panel two.

Okay, I’m scaring myself now.  So, on a strip level, I hate to say it, but this seems more evidence that Tom Batiuk is well aware that his audience is composed entirely of critics, and this drawing of Les is his “Up yours!” to them.  I guess my initial response would be “Grow up.”  Tom Batiuk is not without talent.  Why doesn’t he use it?  If this is the case, I just find it very, very sad.

So let’s have some fun with it.  Let’s make it a happy thing.  Let’s turn that money shot into a funny spot.  (Sorry.)

Recommended soundtrack:  open a new browser tab, load this, and put it in the background.  Suddenly Les Moore is magic!

The original works pretty well too, but I just love the parody of the parody.   It takes something existing and makes something new out of it.  A good lesson for people who are, supposedly, creative.

Gagging Run

(“Running Gag” has already been used twice…had to come up with something for a title…[hangs head in shame])

Link to today’s strip.

Say, do you ever catch yourself thinking, “You know, those Sunday strips with Funky and Les jogging are great and all, but why are they so darn short?  I’d like to see a week of those!”  Well, brother, you’re about to get your wish!  Have you ever considered therapy?

The joke in this is always the same:  Funky’s a fat old doofus who hates exercising and is unequipped to survive it.  Les is an up-and-at-’em type who always outperforms.  There’s only so many variants on “Funky is a fat lazy loser” and, let me tell you, none of them are funny.  This one is just stupid, and poorly presented.  It should show Les and Funky speaking on the phone, the night before; then Funky’s dumb non-something would at least make a certain amount of character sense (any excuse to avoid getting up early).   Saying his line now, after they’ve been out for a while, makes Funky look genuinely stupid.  Talk about low-hanging fruit….

Here’s an idea, Funky.  If you hate exercise so much, if it’s nothing but a burden, why not stop?  You’ve been doing it for years and it is clearly not benefiting you in any way, other than making you even more miserable (if such a thing is possible) and thus able to commiserate with everyone around you.  Your *cough* best friend Les seems to use this time to remind you of how superior to you he is in every way.    Let’s face it–you’re never going to lose weight, you’re never going to feel good about yourself, and what you see right now in life is all you will ever have.  Your creator clearly despises you.  Everything else in the universe is punishing you; you don’t need to join in too.  You might die sooner, but you might die happier, too.

Admittedly that’s a stretch, but in this strip, any death seems like a happy occasion.  Finally, someone is free of the dark clutches of this strip.  Free to rot and molder, and–I think I’ll stop typing now.