I was sure Batiuk felt he’d wrung every last molecule out of this motor vehicle story arc. But against Fat Les’ advice, Funky has indeed driven all the way home and back (can you believe Fat Les was enough of a sport not to alert the cops?) and returned with…a copy of his birth certificiate? Why would he not return with the original document? A business owner, Chamber of Commerce prexy, and, well, grown ass man doesn’t know that for most purposes, a Xeroxed birth certificate is worthless?
Tag: Batiukmobile®
Estate of the Unit
Wow! Hell of a Super Bowl, huh guys? Greetings, snarkers, and a tip of the SoSF coonskin to Beckoning Chasm for his fine stint. The flight back from Dallas has given Mrs. Kidneycyst, I mean Winkerbean, plenty of time to ponder mortality. They’ve not even put down their luggage when Holly brings up the contemporary issue affecting young adults that is estate planning. How’s that for setting the tone for a week of strips? Having stated his thesis, Batiuk has one panel left in which to lighten things with his trademark wordplay, but can only manage another of his patented, head-scratching punchlines. The Winkerbeans’ home is apparently pretty spacious, but I wouldn’t say they live on an estate. Or did Funky mishear “planning” as “planting”? Still makes no sense.
The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get
Ah, now, there’s the Funky we all know and, uh, know. Completely certain of his inevitable decline and demise. And taking an entire Sunday to remind us.
Another dull Sunday strip with no entertainment value at all…not even a vague stab at a punchline. The only things I’m curious about are 1) What the Hell is Funky holding in panel two, and 2) the car in the penultimate panel. That looks a lot like Funky’s car. Are we to gather that, when they found the airport locked, Funky and Holly just said the Hell with it, and drove from Akron(ish) to Dallas? Because that’s an 18 hour trip of nearly 1200 miles.
18 hours in the car with Funky? I think a terminal diagnosis would be a relief.
And thus ends my time in the spotlight. Please welcome the return of Fearless Leader himself, Mr. TFHackett, starting tomorrow, which is already in progress!
Death Takes A Holly Day
Link To Today’s Sad Display Of Comic Ineptitude
“Hey, you know how everyone always says “gotta go, my phone’s about to die” when I call them? Well, I thought it’d be very, very funny if Funky thought his wife was dying only to discover it was her PHONE that was about to die. What do you think?”
“Oh man, you’re breaking up, my phone’s about to die, gotta run Tom.”
This would have been pretty hilarious if only he’d swapped out Funky for Les and Holly for Cayla. You know, because of the whole Lisa thing. “Oh no, mamma mia…not again!”. TomBan really seems to genuinely enjoy torturing Funky, even if it’s just for laughs. Like when he was in that crippling car accident, for example. Oh, the zaniness, it was unbridled knee-slapping from the second the EMTs lugged his broken body out of that ravine to the moment he completed his grueling and painful physical therapy. With most of his punching bags you can understand the motive. They bullied Les in high school, they were better looking and cooler than Les in high school, they wouldn’t date Les in high school and so forth. But what did Funky ever do to merit such punishment?
The Old Derby Got It Bad ‘Cause It’s Brown
Ugh, it’s BatNard at his worst…wallowing in stupid old pop culture nostalgia via two annoying characters absolutely no one gives half a rat’s ass about. He obviously thinks this trite pandering nonsense is “cute”, but actually it’s just nauseatingly stupid…at best. The romance of the century, featuring two imbeciles who wasted six decades of their lives on…well, we have no idea. Now the two fossilized lovebirds are off to the hottest Hollywood eatery of the 1950s, the legendary Brown Derby, where perhaps they’ll catch a glimpse of Bing Crosby or Desi Arnaz while they’re gumming their tapioca and urging their waitress to please turn up the heat. Maybe tomorrow they’ll cruise the Sunset Strip in Cliff’s Edsel and catch the early-bird before heading out to see the Tommy Dorsey Band. Or barring that perhaps they’ll explain why their undying love for one another took a sixty year hiatus until two irritating busybodies brought them back together, but given how that would actually fill in the narrative gap (canyon), I seriously doubt it.
And sorry about that title but I can only work with what he gives me.
Son of Stuck Funky 
