Elvis vs. Jaws

http://www.chron.com/apps/comics/showComick.mpl?date=20100714&name=Funky_Winkerbean

Funky’s brief glimmer of pleasure at seeing his future wife in her teen majorette splendor is short-lived: he’s back to ruminating about the very unfairness of adult life. The “saved by rock and roll” cliché is just that: did any of us in our youth really, really take it to heart? I sure hope not.

Is Funky now wandering in circles? Yesterday he was standing beside the gazebo; today he’s approaching it from a distance.

Instead of the mangled mixed metaphor in panel three (I’m thinking of a Great White swinging a baseball bat)…it would be funny to have somebody overhear Funky in panel two and exclaim, “What? Elvis? Died???“

The Holly Budd Story

Well, look who’s up and about.  Continuity has gone right out the window, folks. Not only are we back in the late 20th century, but we went from twilight in Sunday’s strip to full daylight yesterday. Now we see the band members are still milling about the gazebo, so presumably we’re still in the same day. And Old Funky continues his out-loud spoken observations as he leans against the tree, ogling Britney Spears young Holly Budd. He’s right, kids: by the time you reach adulthood, concepts like “happy” and “carefree” will be totally alien to your lives.

Benched

He may be unstuck in time, but Funky’s ass remains stuck to that park bench in Olde Westview. He continues to soliloquize about how much better we had it in the twentieth century, although he concedes that GPS is a good thing. But were it not for cell phones, Funky would have one less outlet to express his jerkitude. And if not for the 24-hour news cycle, Funky’s ex would find herself out of work…

Twilight Saga

Sigh. I don’t know. If I found myself transported back to the hometown of my high school years (1972-1976), I’d be all over the place, taking in the sights and sounds, dropping in on family, friends, and old loves, visiting the places that are gone.

This tired old fuck sits on a park bench. What is it with people in this strip with park benches?

Looks like the Fourth of July festivities have ended; the good folk of late-20th century Westview have gone home to watch The ABC Sunday Night Movie, and they’ll be rolling up the sidewalks soon. Old Funky sits alone, enumerating, in order, the things that occupy his thoughts: the economy…his elderly father…and…what’s my son’s name? Oh, yeah, Cody, uhh, Cory.