Tag: Dinkle

O2 Stupid

Prepare to re-enter the Funkyverse. Return all brains to the “off” position

Ho-ho-ho! Take THAT, airline industry! Always nickle and diming the hell out of the little guy, amirite? Luggage, peanuts, oxygen…is there anything those vultures don’t charge you for these days? Why I remember back in the day when flying was fun and glamorous and the sexy stewardesses would hand out food, booze, smokes and candy like it was candy…back before technology stole our souls and turned us into a nation of chullo-wearing….(zzzzzzzzzz).

Ooops, drifted off there. Yeah, it’s probably not the worst FW gag ever (as if) and the always objectionable Dinkle doesn’t say anything or contort his face into an obnoxious cackle, so there’s that. It’s pretty rare, so savor it.

Coming on Monday (minor spoilers): A distraught Becky stumbles into band practice. A student reminds her to sterilize her trombone mouthpiece.

“Band Director For Life Harry Dinkle’s plane was shot down over a large pig feces retention pond in North Carolina. It spun in…there were no survivors.”

Adventures In Chocolateering

Click here to find the fruit

Well, he’s resuming one of FW’s twenty thousand dangling plot threads, so that’s something. Unfortunately, though, it’s this one. Dinkle and his perpetually-ignored wife are traveling to Belgium to cash in big-time on Dinkle’s outrageous WHS band candy scam, but unfortunately for both Harry is a complete imbecile whose devotion to marching bands has left him totally unable to perform simple everyday tasks like a regular person. And because this is FW and he’s dealing with a government agency (at the airport no less), incompetence, annoyances and non-stop hassles are in store for everyone…including FW readers…assuming there are any, of course.

It’s Beta Than Nothing

SoSFDavidO here, peeking in on this week’s lack of action!

Ah boy, another strip, another plot device pulled out of thin air. Ignoring the fact Harry’s head is on backward in Panel 1, where was this tape the whole time? Funky’s Magical Safe of Holding? Does anyone remember the size of video cameras that used VHS tapes like in today’s strip? I do, and they were the size of a small dairy goat. The idea Harry lugged one of those things to a game and filmed anything is ludicrous. Bull already *lived* the event, what’s a tape going to do but remind him of how old, fat and tired he looks?

Bore And Snore-der

Link To Today’s Strip

“Yo, Petey! Listen, you know those thirty pallets of blank VHS tapes you boosted right before the format went extinct and couldn’t ever find a buyer for? Well listen, there’s this town in Ohio….”.

“Welcome to Slippery Pete’s Blank VHS Tape Emporium, formerly “Citizen Khans”, how can I help you? Two dozen blank VHS tapes? Why sure, that will be two hundred dollars, please (chortle).”

Taping…LOL. Taping “Law And Order” for twenty years…LOL again. “Too busy coaching”…uh yeah, sure he was, Linda, sure he was.

No Formats Left Behind

Link To Today’s Strip

It really IS a videotape! Someone actually brought a VHS camcorder to Bull’s last game? Or is this some ancient tape Dinkle unearthed while he was endlessly roaming around WHS for no sensible reason? These people and the videotapes, that was a technological advancement Westviewians oddly embraced for some reason instead of shunning it like they always do.

“What? Movies with sound? Kids today are so spoiled. I’ll stick to my silent films, this is just a fad.”

“Ahhh, the color, the tint…just two more silly knobs to have to fiddle with. I’ll stick to my old black & white TV, thank you very much.”

“Video games? On the TV? Where do you put the comic book? Kids today are so weird.”

“WOW! A camcorder! I can make my own video tapes! I’m gonna record everything and save all the tapes even if the format eventually dies out!”

One of these is not like the others. Imagine it, you’re at a WHS football game, filming with your phone. Then you look up and notice the angry faces of the locals, all of them with huge old-fashioned VHS camcorders hoisted on their aching sagging shoulders. You begin to hear the murmurs…”fancy technology wiz thinks he’s so cool”…”yeah, let’s see him dub copies with that thing”…”damn kids today”. The crowd begins passing around hand-written little notes mocking you. And when you innocently ask whether that horrible wooden trough thing is really supposed to be the men’s room the fed-up mob attacks, running you out of the bleachers and back to your futuristic dream world. And it’s all on videotape.