I’d Like To Find Your Inner Child And Kick Its Inner Ass

The last two weeks of Crankshaft have been about their annual trip to Comic-Con. It has been an exploding clown car of all Tom Batiuk’s worst qualities as a writer. I think it’s worth analyzing as a window into how far gone Funky Winkerbean was by its end. All of the mistakes in this story grew from Funky Winkerbean, or were just as commonly made there.

The story is about Pete and Mindy taking her father Jeff to Comic-Con. Because it’s July, and Tom Batiuk must do a Comic-Con arc. It’s the second-most important event on the Funkyverse liturgical calendar. It’s ahead of Ohio Music Educator’s Association Week in February, but behind the ongoing Millennium Of Lisa.

This will be a multi-part series. But today, I want to focus on that obnoxious inner child character.

Inner Child’s most famous appearance in Funky Winkerbean was during the during the Lisa’s Story/wildfire/Bronson Canyon/Phantom Empire/climate damage/setting up Les’ Oscar arc:

Bronson Canyon was of importance to something from Tom Batiuk Jeff’s childhood, so it makes sense for Inner Child to appear as adult Jeff is discovering it. As adults, we sometimes get opportunities that appeal to our younger selves, and remind us of that time in our lives. For example, I just bought this thing:

I was born in summer 1972, which is the perfect window for arcade games to be my childhood passion. I was hit by puberty and The Video Game Crash Of 1983 in the same week. When I saw I could buy this magnificent device at the furniture store, my inner child came out too. So this comic strip captures a real feeling, and one I can relate to.

Inner Child’s first appearance in the current story, on July 12, is similar to this. The problem is that Inner Child keeps showing up, in ways that make no sense: doing favors for their father, losing their luggage, enforcing terminology, and carrying stuff. Twice. How do you even lift, bro?

And what aspect of getting on a plane, going to a comic book convention, and using an app to locate your luggage brings out your inner child? None of those things were widely available during Jeff’s childhood, so they can’t be stoking his memories. There’s no reason for Inner Child to be in these moments. And he’s absent from moments where he should be, where adult Jeff laments his past. (Which has the side effect of confirming that no “Inner Child must be in every strip” rule is in play.)

Another big problem is that there’s no indication of this character’s nature. This wasn’t a problem in Bronson Canyon, because there were no other people around. But now he looks like a real child, standing around an airport, talking to a grown man about his underwear. Chris Hansen needs to get involved.

Why doesn’t Batiuk make Inner Child transparent, to portray that he is a non-corporeal being? Oh, wait, he did do that:

…in 2016. I guess this was enough to make the point.

Transparency to represent dead, imaginary, or otherwise non-corporeal beings is a common visual trope in comics. In the Funkyverse, it somehow makes things even more confusing. More recently, Batiuk has also used the transparency trope on people who weren’t dead. Tony Montoni appeared in the strip just before its end, but was transparent the winter before, as if he had died off-panel. There was also this:

Neither of these transparent characters is actually dead. Phil Holt was revealed to be faking his death, and Dead Lisa has shown up in the strip so many times she should be called Undead Lisa.

But there’s another problem: the Funkyverse is full of blond boys of indeterminate age, mainly Skyler and Mitch. They’re both about 5, with gusts up to 12. On other comic strip forums, people (inlcuding our own J.J. O’Malley) had to explain who this character was. Because Lord knows the story didn’t.

So Inner Child’s appearances had visual cues, no written exposition, and didn’t make any sense in the story. Other than that, he’s fine, I guess.

Let Mr. Sponge Be Your Guide

Yay. We’re now at the part of the arc where one fictional character is telling other fictional characters how great they are, without giving any hint of a reason for why they feel that way. I’m sure I’ve probably said this at least ten times, and I know many other people on here have said it, but it really does amaze me how Batiuk has shown basically nothing of these comics, despite Funky Winkerbean itself basically revolving around them at this point.
I really do not know what the point of this is. So two minor characters produced comics, decades ago, that one person apparently centered his entire life around? How? “When the Amazing Mr. Sponge used his super sucking powers to vanquish Mr. Tea, that inspired me to become a janitor?” I like comics more than probably 99% of the population, and at times have found inspirational material in them. But saying they’re your “north star guiding you through life” is just pathetic, especially when you realize these are cheesy Silver Age comics.
Oh, and notice the speaker is addressing “you two”. I wonder if Ruby is still standing off to the side, or if she’s wandered back to the airport by this point.

Ownly the Lonely

It’s possible I’m forgetting this, but I thought Atomik Komix published things like Amazing Mr. Sponge? Didn’t Chester buy the rights to the old Batom titles and is making new comics of them? So therefore they’re not creator owned at all? It’s possible I’m confusing this, but I thought that’s how it was.
I like that apparently Ruby literally had to give up her seat to Phil. She’s being honored for her career achievements, but a random guy shows up and steals her thunder and her chair. This is extremely on-brand for Batiuk.

Oh, and Phil hated his career, and producing comics is misery.  What else is new.

XYZ, Phil

Okay, so today’s strip really does make me wonder about something. I’ve kind of wondered for a while if Batiuk had passed on the actual writing of this strip to someone else, and crap like today really, really makes me think he has. Because I don’t really see how someone can write “guy comes back from the dead and then his coworker tells him his pants aren’t zipped up in front of a crowd” and think that’s “called writing”, unless they’re either eight or a Kent State English major who isn’t getting paid enough by Batiuk (probably because he’s paying them in surplus copies of Lisa’s Story).

Because really, the quality of this strip has taken a huge nosedive over the past few years.  With Act II and even well into Act III, it felt like Batiuk was trying and the strip was at least coherent.  Compare today’s strip to one of Batiuk’s rambling essays about cheesy sixties Flash comics, and you can definitely tell where his heart and effort are.