Tag: Classic Funky

We Don’t Call Him Batty For Nothing

Link to today’s strip

Hey gang, it is I, Epicus, ready to steer the S.S. SoSF through a magical journey where time and newsprint collide in a cavalcade of…well, not really. It’s just another whacked-out FW arc. But still.

Apparently the muttering mailman comic book store lackey Harry is mindlessly jabbering about some sort of “time pool” he had stashed in his super-secret high school locker. Wonder if there’s a Pulitzer in there? Probably not….ZING! Just when you didn’t think it would be possible for the huge reunion arc to get any dumber, here you go. If you were born after 1980 this probably makes no sense whatsoever to you, but trust me, by the end of the week it won’t be much clearer.

In case you’ve already forgotten about the last time travel arc, Funky went into a coma after turning down a vodka and orange after dumping Pa Bean at Bedside Manor, during which he visited his younger self and advised his younger self to purchase a copy of “Starbuck Jones” #1, which he used to save his business after cocking it all up somehow (which happened way before the coma, BTW). Then that bit of drollery was forgotten and all of a sudden SJ # 576 (or whatever) was the priceless collectible one. I know, but seriously, that’s how it happened. Betcha this one is WAY better than that one was!!!

Lockerpalooza

Harry suddenly seems confused and agitated and is speaking nonsensically, suggesting a neurological or psychotic event. Holly, rather than becoming alarmed, calmly and resignedly responds. She’s seen it before: not only for countless hours standing behind the counter as Harry guzzled free coffee and held court in Montoni’s, but even back in high school, where he was constantly doing weird shit like inviting the gang into his locker.

The Name Game

SosfDavidO here, Guest Hosting for the week!

We’re talking about comics here, right? Comics are little stories printed on paper that are told in serial format and sold monthly or told in daily strips. How did Donna leap from comics to video games in today’s strip?

Jeez Loiuse, how many topics are there to talk about in the Funkyverse? Comics, pizza, cancer, FaceSpace, Alzheimer’s and PTSD appear to be it. We *know* girls enjoy comics too, and though the fanbase isn’t nearly as large, the comic-based movies (Well, Marvel ones, anyhow) enjoy a large audience of men and women alike.

Do I even have to mention Comic Con? For crying out loud, girls are even cosplaying as Rocket Raccoon.

I don’t want to bash comics, as I liked them a lot as a kid, but I don’t think they’re quite as deserving as the reverence TomBat gives them. I mean, the whole Superman is Clark Kent without glasses thing could *only* work in a medium where characters are as one-dimensional as the paper they’re drawn on.

My protests are against a comic writer that wrote this over a year ago. I might as well be shouting at Judge Judy on the TV, it would do about as much good.

Mama Mia, Pizzeria!

Tuesday! Where we rush into a plot-line that we’ve literally already seen before. I’m not just just referring to when Darrin was born but in the 600 times his delivery was mentioned in the strip since. I mean, no wonder Darrin is having Deja-Vu about it, how many times has he had to sit through the story of his rush to the hosptial?

Odds that Fred is going to pop out of his medical drama to “help with the delivery” are looking pretty darned high from the looks of today’s strip.

She’s Having a Tired Plot Device

‘Ello! 4th-trumpet and Westview Waterboy DavidO is checking in, giving much-needed relief to Beckoning Chasm after BC’s two week run of excellent Funky snarking.

On to the funnies!

Hoo-boy. Put on your Members Only Jacket and throw on your Michael Jackson album because we’re about to retread over one of the tiredest troupes in situation comedy, the “Oh God, I’m having a baby, let’s duck into the nearest malfunctioning elevator that has a Rabbi, a mime and a 300lb guy who easily faints in it.” routine that was required in every sitcom, by congressional mandate, from 1983-1994.

Today’s strip throws logic out the window in favor of comedy, though I still don’t see how a panicked trip to the hospital where you gnaw your fingertips raw with anxiety constitutes comedy.

This sort of strip is great at illustrating why cell phones are the bane of screenwriters everywhere. In the age of instant connection, Jess could have just texted Durwood to come pick her up; she’s really feeling it and it’s almost time. The suitcase would already be in the car in that scenario; no need for a pregnant woman to go hauling it around.

I can’t peek ahead, so there’s no way of knowing if this arc is going to go on for weeks or if the Sainted Grandbaby will be enrolled in Westview High this time next month. Either way, prepare for every single worn out fumbling-dad-goes-to-the-hospital schtick ever seen in the last three centuries.