Well, if the “nice-sized” check wasn’t meant for Darin, then he and Jessica will have to settle for a check that is merely “nice.” Doesn’t matter anyway, since Darin immediately cops to having blown at least that amount on some other artists’ work. Tune in tomorrow when Chester turns to Darin and snatches the check from his hand. As commenter “Doghouse Reilly” reminded us on Wednesday, the artwork that Ruby sold was “commissioned recreations,” not her original work which her chauvinist pig bosses did not allow her to keep. Come to think of it, if they were commissioned, then by whom? What’s she doing selling them? Anyway, unless Darin sold off some old “Sophomoric Sightings” strips, any comic art that he’s produced was done as an employee of Atomik Komix, so he’s already received his reward.
Tag Archives: coloring gaffes
Well, good for Ruby Lith. Like cracked actor Cliff Anger, Ruby’s another living Twentieth Century relic who held on into the Twenty-First long enough to finally garner some long overdue recognition. I hope her excitement over this check doesn’t trigger a coronary, which would look something like this:
I also hope Ruby’s allowing for inflation here, since her “original pay date” dates to around the Truman Era. Meanwhile, the expressions of escalating dismay on the faces of Darin and Jessica are the most satisfying thing we’ll see all week.
Comic Book Harriet, back in the saddle again. I want to thank BeckoningChasm for a great stint through this horrorshow. He really puts me in a tough spot. Because what is there to say about this nightmare abortion of a plot arc that hasn’t been said already by our crack team of beady-eyed nitpickers?
I’d never expected to see the loss of a father, spouse, and friend, approached with every character acting so sedate that depression is indistinguishable from boredom.
I remember those times when our esteemed historian Billy the Skink has put up strips from Act II full of intense soap opera pathos. Les running down the street shouting “USA! USA!” Wally trembling and crying while standing on a landmine begging whatsisface to tell his wifey something something he loves her.
Bull’s been dead for over a month, and we’ve yet to see a single tear.
It’s back to the WABAC machine in today’s strip. No, I’m not talking about the flashback to “five years ago…”, I’m talking about Bull’s funeral, which has itself moved two-and-a-half years backward in time in order to accommodate a five years ago flashback featuring players Bull last coached in the spring of 2012. Well, at least we are getting something that is actually about Bull in this one… that’s so damning with faint praise that it could keep an ocean at bay. (“Billy was a special blogger”, they said at his funeral.)
Also, I tagged both Keisha and Linda in this, because I’m not sure which one of them is standing next to Summer in panel 3.
It’s been posited here and elsewhere that the supposed 10-year time gap between events in Funky Winkerbean and Crankshaft means that CS is set in the present, and FW takes place a decade from now…a decade in which medical science has found a way to diagnose chronic traumatic encephalopathy before death. It’s the only way to explain how Bull and Buck are aware of their condition, as well as the existence of such a weirdly specific online support group such as “Former Football Players with CTE” (“Oh, you played hockey? That’s another group.”) Meanwhile, Westview High School is courting controversy by replacing the Stars and Stripes with a “Blue Lives Matter” flag.
Okay, that envelope looks as thick as one holding five (or so) pieces of paper. Definitely less than ten. Since Dullard was going to send “some” of Atomik Komix (gah) latest issues to Jessica, what exactly are they producing in that office? I’m thinking, something not really worth the effort to print and mail.
Which leads me to this. I’ve got the persistent feeling the whole Atomik Komix (gahk!) scenario is nothing more than a fever dream concocted by Dullard, who is currently in a coma in some hospital room. Jess pushed him out the window when she discovered he was going to waste needed money on the Flash Museum (or selling comic book art to benefit Lisa), and he fell three stories. Unfortunately for all of us, he landed on his least vulnerable spot–his head–and instead of dying instantly, he has been on life-support since. Jess and Skyler have long since abandoned him, and are living life to the fullest in LA, while he lies in bed dreaming of comic books.
Oh, and this is bad news for Pete, since that means Mindy’s affection for him is also imaginary (which it would be in the real world).
As for the art, I put it to you that Dullard in panel 2 is just as stranglable as Les was last Sunday. In fact, I’m having a hard time resisting my throttling hand…. MUST CRUSH MONITO
Rip Tide Scuba Cop has never looked better than he has in today’s strip, which would be high praise for Mindy’s coloring skills if this wasn’t issue #2 of the title.
That’s more than can be said of Pete’s writing… Why Rip Tide did not assume that antibodies would be apt to attack him, as they do to germs and other foreign substances in the bloodstream seems like a rather foolish call on his part. It also seems like this will be an expensive cover to print, requiring a special cut for the thought bubble that hangs off of the side. Chester may have to sell some more of his collection.
And with that, I leave this gilded site and the mucky comic strip that it covers in the extra-capable hands of comicbookharriet. Best of luck, hope you don’t get any Les strips.
Whodunnit? Who could have colored Durwood’s Rip Tide cover in today’s strip? Lessee, these three are the only people in the Eaton Building (a whole building that Chester bought to employ two people, as we now know), and, given its location in Cleveland, probably the only people in a 2-3 mile radius. Hmmmmm, this is a puzzler…
One thing we do know is that Mindy didn’t have a summer job or friends that one summer as she pored over her father’s musty comic book collection. And we KNOW for a fact that Jeff Murdock was an obsessive comic book collector.
From the FW blog:
Rick [Burchett]…lays-out and pencils the Sunday sequence. When that’s finished, it’s my turn to jump back in and ink it into a Funky Sunday. The lettering is then done on the computer after which it goes off to colorist Rob Ro who proceeds, as he always does, to turn it into a totally beautiful Funky Sunday.
Colorist Rob can even turn a clump of gridiron turf into a flaming mini-volcano! Well done, Rob! So today we get the big payoff in the Buck Bedlow saga. We wondered why Buck showed up out of nowhere and went to such lengths to overturn Bull’s non-touchdown in the Big Game. What Buck was really doing was getting a preview of his own impending decline. But if he got his “CTE diagnosis” (grrrrrrrrrr!) “last month,” why did he show up back in September?
Well it’s been a pleasure stoking the snark fires these first two weeks of the new year. Tomorrow, guest author Charles takes over the reins. Wear a helmet, folks! –TFH
I hope none of you are fans of the blues or rockabilly, because you’re about to watch the things you enjoy become tainted with Harry Dinkle, and you’ll never get any pleasure from them again. I’m guessing Batiuk took a vacation to Memphis recently, and we’re all going to pay.
I don’t know what kind of a monster that is in panel one, but it appears to be wearing Mort Winkerbean’s skin. What godawful drawing–Burchett should be ashamed. Contrast that with Dinkle’s face in panel two–he gets the full “handsome” treatment, as well as a little action whip-around.
By slicing out a quarter of Mort’s face–
–he actually looks like a person. I’d like to think that Burchett drew him more like this, and Batiuk said “Damn it, Burchett, how dare you draw any character other than Les, Dinkle and Lisa as a normal human being!! I want all those sons-o-bitches looking like a non-human monster! Just like all the women should be fat and frowsy with Muppet faces!!! Do you like getting paid?! Cut it up and do it over!!”
What a loathsome thing Dinkle is–as I’ve said way too many times, of all the cast in this miserable comic, Dinkle is the one I hate the most. He always triumphs, he’s always praised, and always beloved. He’s one of the reasons this strip will never be noteworthy.