Tag Archives: band camp

Dinkle….SAVES things.

Peer through this window into Dinkle’s wizzled soul.

Holy crap, Dinkle saves stuff. And he feels comfortable enough with this creepy habit that he willingly shows Lefty one of his collections. This one seems innocent enough – tufts of grass from each years’ band camp – but will he ever show her his other collections? The ones kept in that special room behind the hidden door in the basement? The ones lined neatly up on narrow little shelves lining the walls…tiny jars holding little trophies and mementos of past achievements and heartbreaks…

Look! Here are sets of false teeth, taken from the nightstands of women at Bedside Manor who received “special music lessons.” And those jars near the door with all of Hallie’s nail trimmings from when she was just a baby. There are many, many others…Harry had access to the locker rooms at Westview High for so very long, and even now he visits from time to time, to see if there is anything else he might want to…collect.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

Someone, Please…Make It Stop

Link to today’s crime against comedy strip

Wow, talk about a gag that got stuck to the bottom of the wastebasket under the liner and was only discovered now. A fitting end for a truly terrible and extremely stupid arc. Why even have long-running gags if you’re not even going to try to make them funny? “Wide asleep” sounds like something a roundtable of seven year-olds might come up with during a giggle fit after a few swigs of Mountain Dew. Just mind-bogglingly terrible. I don’t know how cashing checks for “writing jokes” this awful is even possible (or legal). Just remember this abomination the next time you’re reading one of those puff-piece interviews in “Parade” or the Plains Dealer regarding that Pulitzer nomination.

Special thanks to TFH and the rest of the SoSF staff for their tips, support and of course the opportunity to guest host the WWW’s premier FW snark blog, bar none. And special thanks to you, the snark brigade, who never fail to find the humor in these daily turds. Sometimes trying to find anything remotely “funny” about this strip is like trying to start a fire in a monsoon with some soggy matches and wet paper towels. I don’t know how TFH has done it for all those years, after that band camp thing and this football crap I’m just about ready to reach for the vodka and Xanax. Anyone can riff on Les talking to his dead wife’s ghost, but it takes a special sort of snarker to tackle, say, “Funky names his car”, for example. Excuse me, as I must now go and hit myself in the head with a brick until I purge the last two weeks of this strip from (what’s left of) my brain.

Until next time….stay Funky!


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

Sweat Chullo O’ Mine

Link to today’s strip

Hey look, it’s Cody and Owen, who’ve been attending WHS for at least five or six years already, sweating their way through another horrible and joyless summer band camp just like we’re suffering through another horrible and joyless summer band camp arc! Mind blown. Much as with Becky, one has to wonder why they keep voluntarily participating in an activity that apparently gives them no enjoyment whatsoever. Again, kind of like us! Whoa. The fabled Westviewian masochism must be contagious.

One also has to wonder why Owen would elect to wear a wool cap with ear flaps in the middle of August, or why Cody doesn’t remember Becky losing her shit last year, or the year before that, or the year before that, or the year before that and so on. So in short, it doesn’t appear that either of these two dimwits will be graduating anytime soon. On the plus side, though, they’ll be able to legally buy their own alcohol soon, which should make the ride home from the prom a little more interesting provided that FW remains “true to form”. Owen really does have that “future FW fatality” look about him, doesn’t he? And Cody….yeah.

I have to believe that even the most easily amused band directors would think twice before clipping this strip and taping it to the band room door. Especially the ones battling any sort of mental illness which, based on the knowledge of band directors I’ve gleaned from reading FW, means all of them because teaching band is the most difficult and thankless job there is and everyone who does it is insane. Right?


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

Bland Camp

Link to today’s strip

TFH is sailing off to Bora Bora (or did he say Oradell?) this week on the good ship “WinkerHate”, so I’m bravely stepping into the box to pinch-snark, so to speak. So let’s see what fabulous, engrossing and hilarious tale Our Hero has cooked up for us this week…

Uh-oh, that empty-sleeve-flapping-in-the-breeze-like sound in the air can only mean one thing: it’s band camp joke season again. And right on cue, there’s Dinkle, smirking and cackling and waxing nostalgic about how things used to be back before he retired. Many years ago. From his job as band director. I think he was deaf at one time too, although he appears to hear everything just fine now. He just celebrated his 50th wedding anniversary, you know, in case you just recently started reading the strip or something.

Last year’s band camp arc ended on a cliffhanger as Becky apparently reached the boiling point re: her mother’s incessant meddling. Then everything suddenly stopped so Batom could get Les & Cayla’s wedding in before all the leaves in Westview fell (and it was a close call, let me tell ya). Not that I especially care about “resolving” that arc, I think it’s pretty safe to say that no one else does either. One meddlesome old coot per arc is one too many as it is. But still, it was pretty strange how he just abandoned that storyline cold like that. My guess: he fell asleep, woke up, thought he’d finished it, submitted it, no one noticed/checked/cared and that was that. What, you have a better explanation???


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

Elevate Me

Rather gracious of Rachel, I think, wanting to make sure that Wally’s ex be informed of their engagement. But even though Wally’s been out of Becky’s life for years, he knows how she gets in the run-up to band camp. Maybe what Becky’s visualizing is her meddlesome mom Roberta plummeting headlong off that scissor lift.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky