Meanwhile, In Another Circle of Hell…

Link to today’s strip

Greetings, folks, BChasm back for another round in the chair.  Let’s see if we can get it to spin!

So, The New Darin and Cindy (looking very close to her “appearance-complaints” in panel one) are leaving Westview, returning to the glamour of Hollywood.  Ah Hollywood, where Cindy works at a company that seems like someone’s thinly-veiled YouTube channel, and The New Darin stars in made-for-TV fare that is invariably cancelled.   Can’t you just smell the stardom?

As a coda, we get Pete and The Old Darin facing the reality of every town in the Funkyverse–the fact that there is no escape from the horror that pervades every moment of life.  There are always those Philistines who refuse to see genuine art for its value, and instead look to crassly commercialize it by sinking black, oozing claws into it until it starts laying deadly golden eggs.   Golden eggs full of poison gas.

Kinda looks like The Old Darin has cut off his arm, there, though I’m sure that’s just an unfortunate colorist’s choice.   On the other hand, the carefully crafted punchline is really stupid–“changes to the changes” are still changes to the script, “changes to the script” being something that absolutely every movie, TV-movie, and TV series goes through every single time one is made.

In fact, there are so many revisions to a given script that those new pages are printed on different colored paper so that everyone can know exactly where they should be “on the page.”  It’s been this way for decades…though usually this happens either during rehearsals (to iron out difficult lines, or block stage business) or on the set (a location isn’t available, an actor quits, a character is dropped, etc).  Neither of which can be the case because 1) the damned star of the movie is swooning around in Ohio, and 2) so far as we know, there is no script yet.  And they’re not going to send our a crew to do second unit stuff until they’ve got something like a completed script.

Which brings me to a greater question–apparently at Cable Movie Entertainment, they hold script meetings where revisions are discussed.  Why in the Hell don’t they invite the screenwriter to these meetings?  Why are changes to the script a complete surprise to him?  He was hired, after all, because as a comic book writer he has some expertise in the field–why wouldn’t he be at these meetings?   He’s not unavailable or living in some distant city–he’s just down the hall.  It makes no sense to exclude him, in fact it seems to piss him off quite a bit.

Pete should be at all these meetings.  He should know about all the revisions, be able to contribute, and–more importantly–he should be able to shape those revisions, if he’s smart.  Not just negatively–“Well, Starbuck Jones wouldn’t do that, he’s got a code of honor”–but also positively–“Well, if you show the approaching Zergian ship, that’s another toy you could have in shops when the movie opens–vehicles are always big sellers…my pal Darin can sketch a rough of the ship for you.”  (Good one, Pete, you’ve come up with some dollar value, they’ll listen to your opinions now.)

There’s only one real answer.  Pete isn’t the screenwriter on the Starbuck Jones movie.  He’s just one of the typists.

Anus Major

“In a spirit of generosity”, Tom Batiuk really should put down his Funky felt tip, retire “Funky” and “Crankshaft”, and free up some real estate for some new talent in the fading genre of daily newspaper comics. TB waited almost a month to squander another Sunday’s worth of ink, newsprint, and Photoshop effects on a followup to Kablichnick’s Ursa  Major “joke”. In today’s retelling, however, “Jim Twain” goes with our bobanero’s (funnier) punchline. Not so fast, teacher! Even dim Owen realizes we’ve heard this one. And it sucked. “But no, my friends,” teases Jim, in French to be extra condescending; he then recites the joke and delivers the punchline like a steaming turd before smirking blissfully and hitching his suspenders (the science teacher’s “mic drop”). Cody is appalled by this microaggression; deadpan Alex declares Jim to “comedically on fire” while visualizing him to be literally so.

Your genial host is “comedically extinguished” after serving as your host these last two festive weeks. Thank you, readers and contributors, for visiting and supporting the web’s premiere source for Funky Winkerbean snark, Son of Stuck Funky. I’m pleased and proud to preside over one of the smartest and funniest online communities I’ve even partaken in. The comedically sur le feu Beckoning Chasm takes over Monday. Happy 2016! —Votre ancien assiette en porcelaine, TFH

Age of Dulltron

Above: my rendition of Owen’s rendition of the Captain America theme song from the 1960’s cartoon. Click here to see the “real” strip, it’s a hoot.

A bunch of kids sitting around talking about comic book movies.

And when I say kids…well, Owen remains a freckle faced, towheaded kid under that smelly chullo. Cody, meanwhile, appears to be about 37 here. Don’t get me started about Alex, who has the sketchiest timeline of all: she first turned up at Pete’s book signing eight years ago (nearly two years before we were introduced to C&O). Her model sheet on the official FW site’s “Meet the Cast” page (archived for ya here!) gives no clue to her age, but of course now she’s been established as a high school chum of the boys.

And what about that big Baby Huey lookin’ “boy” with the weird hair, whom they do not permit to sit and join them at the table for whatever weird game they’re playing? He was 38 however long ago Act III began, now closing in on 50 and still hovering around teenagers and chiming in on their conversations.

Anyway, the new year is upon us, Sunday is my birthday, life in the non-Funkiverse is pretty sweet. Enjoy the weekend before we commence whalin’ away at 2016 in earnest!

 

Auld Lang Shite

What the hell is in that bottle? I thought Funky only “toasted” with real toast these days. Well, the last strip of 2015 will certainly lend credence to the “Tom Batiuk is trolling the hate-readers” theory. Why else would he have the titular character grinningly offer such a grim salutation, even ironically? And if Funky is trying to be funny, he’s the only one in on the joke; everyone else looks either surprised or dismayed.

To be fair, Funky’s entitled to his gloomy outlook. After all, Les has his inflated ego and submissive wife to indulge him. Crazy Harry’s underemployed and loving it. This year, Darin, Pete and Cindy all lucked into exciting careers on the West Coast, and Cindy (Funky’s ex-wife) is engaged to a movie star. Cory Winkerbean’s back stateside and is also planning to get hitched. Bull’s Scapegoats enjoyed a perfect football season. The only arcs involving Funky dealt with his sending Montoni’s band box out to be repaired, and having him relive the Montoni’s bowling team’s victory (a decade ago) over Crankshaft’s team. The rest of his life consists of running the pizza parlor, jogging with smug Les, chauffeuring Cory to and from the airport, doctor visits, and humiliation at the hands of his personal trainer. Our slow shuffle to oblivion indeed. Pick up the pace there, Funkman.

Well, dear friends, as 2015 draws to a close, please accept once again my well wishes on behalf of the team. Cheers and Happy New Year!