I liken today’s joke (if it exists at all) to a tiny object that someone wants to safely ship over a great distance via parcel post. The sender acquires a large and sturdy box, and places the object in it, and for protection, surrounds the tiny object with styrofoam peanuts, excelsior, and wadded-up pages from the Plain Dealer. Then the sender seals the box shut with reinforced tape, and brings it to the post office to send it on its way. The parcel is delivered, and the recipient cuts open the tape, pries open the box, and has to rummage through the worthless filler material in search of the contents. Finally his fingers grasp what must be the tiny object. He pulls it from its packaging, holds it up and inspects it, and wonders aloud, “This is it?”
Really, a lot of these strips can be compared to that mystery box. The joke contained therein (“liquid sound“?) is so small, weak and obscure that it’s almost impossible to identify. Who rates hotels on a musical scale, and why is “B flat” apparently mediocre? Many marching band instruments are pitched in B♭.
And finally, when is Funky going to take off that fake beard?