Calling Darin’s “crustaceous ketchup” comment a “joke” is quite a stretch. And I’m really not sure why Darin’s birth father is something “we” need to talk about, Jessica. Your man’s had a hard day. Butt out.
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Son of Stuck Funky 
“Sure, hon. We’ll talk about that right after we discuss your plans to maybe, you know, get a job to help out around here…if you have any, that is.”
Time for Funky Winkerbean, or as I like to call it, “that comic strip that sucks so bad it defies belief”. In today’s moronic installment, Boy Lisa’s usually quiet and dimwitted wife continues to relentlessly nag him about something that’s clearly none of her business. How very conveinent that her incessant henpecking will make FTR’s baffling scheme possible. Based on how FTR seems to know everything there is to know about these people, it’s probably all part of his master plan anyway.
“Yup, got ’em right where I want ’em, Len. The blonde chick is way into the whole birth parent thing, she’s the one who pushed him into meeting Lisa way back when. He’ll cave soon enough. How do I know this? I met this weird guy at a cancer awareness walk over in Medina, he clued me in.”
Waaaaaitaminnit, how can this struggling couple living in the dingy apartment above Montoni’s afford shrimp? Even Long John Silver’s is out of their price range.
In my opinion it is her business if her husband sees his father or not. He’s her husband. What’s stupid about this is that apparently it’s been hours but they still haven’t finished that conversation about his father that they had two or three strips ago.
And frankly that joke… even if it’s supposed to be from someone trying not to think about the reappearance of his biological father that’s still not weak. It’s a non-joke. There isn’t a joke in it. There’s a non sequitur, but that’s not a joke.
It’s cocktail sauce everywhere in America you horrendous douchebag. Dear god, shrimp sauce? christ, what an asshole.
MY birth father! Well, let’s see, he drinks coffee and hands out home-printed business cards that look like they came from a 1992 Amiga.
God help me, I want to look away from this train wreck of a comic strip serial art, but I’m too weak. Anyone know of a 12 step program for FW?
Jessica’s hair is really beginning to annoy me.
“Shrimp sauce?” Huh? WTF? Okay. One more for the BatDicktionary, if you please. As I understand it, any utterance never spoken by a normal human being anywhere is an instant qualification. Done.
The week is off to a rip roaring start. Looks like the purpose of today’s installment is to throttle back the breakneck pace this storyline had been running on. Whew! Good thing! Need to catch our breath!
Or maybe BatPokey is slowing things down a bit so he can have some more time to locate and round up anyone at all who gives a shit about what’s currently going on.
By the way, I notice the curtains are drawn in the room to the left of the McBlondies. That’s where Skunk Head John’s place is, right? Probably porkin’ some teenager in there right now.
I’m with Gyre here. It’s her husband, and this is not something that will go away without taking its course and making its mark. Unless Batiuk just lets the story arc drift off without acknowledgement, not new terrain around here.
I agree with Gyre too. But in all honesty, if the next strip keeps having her pushing him to meet Frankie. I’m just gonna say its stupid. I mean I get she misses her father and all. But come on, this girl needs to remember that not every one was her father. Frankie is up to something and she’s gonna get Darien into trouble if she pushes this ideal of him reconnecting with his dad. I dunno just sounds stupid how she keeps pushing it in her stupid sitcom idea. There are asshole parents and some will usually spell disaster.
Sure, it’s her business… but he still he said no. I honestly don’t know why you’d nag your spouse to make a decision that upsets him and doesn’t benefit you.
Please tell me it’s not some kind of angsty “I never knew my father, why won’t you meet yours, waaaah” thing. Please.
Waaaaaitaminnit, how can this struggling couple living in the dingy apartment above Montoni’s afford shrimp?
And he’s drinking blood red wine with it too, exposing just how much of a gauche buffoon he is. That’s just drinking to drink, really. TB should’ve made this guy the alcoholic.
I originally thought he was talking about some sort of cream sauce that had shrimp in it, because calling cocktail sauce “shrimp sauce” makes him even bigger a buffoon than his wine choice already demonstrates.
So that’s two things that were probably introduced to show that even though this couple may not be wealthy, they’re cultured, which Batiuk blows completely and can only lead one to conclude the opposite of what he intended. That’s as close to art as he gets, it seems.
Anyway, if Darin doesn’t shut Jessica down over this, he deserves whatever evil Frankie has in store for him. Hopefully, whatever it is won’t have too many nauseating Lisa moments like yesterday’s.
And he’s drinking blood red wine with it too, exposing just how much of a gauche buffoon he is.
Naw, that’s just a glass of Kool-Aid.
Or as Darin likes to call it, “Aqua Sugar”.
I think they sell “Shrimp & Shrimp Sauce” on the same page as they do the Band Turkeys! What goes better at Thanksgiving, than Shrimp and Shrimp Sauce…I don’t think you guys get it…This is really funny! Forget all the drama, and try and find the humor. I can’t stop laughing at the strip each day. Sometimes you really have to look hard, and I mean hard to find the humor in this strip!
“Cocktail sauce” probably didn’t fit into the word balloon. Or perhaps that’s what Tommy called it when he was a tot and it became part of Batiuk family linguistic lore, like “vodka and orange” and “solo car date.”
I get it now. I understand why, after making all his plans and marshaling all his resources toward meeting Darrin, Frankie was incapable of waiting a couple of tick tocks at Montoni’s and, you know, just meeting Darrin.
It’s so Tom Batiuk can stretch this arc so hard he can relax to the music of its screams.
At least he didn’t ask for killer shark sauce.
I’m here to read Funky Winkerbean, or as I like to call it, the stuff I occasionally step in while mowing the lawn.
I tried imagining panel 1 with high school Darin, thinking that his old Bob Hope nose might make the joke funnier. Hah, nope.
When TB started to draw, Eberhard Faber came down personally and crossed his name off of the pencil.
Oh, I agree it’s Jess’ business what her husband does regarding his bio-daddy, and she can certainly talk about it and offer her opinion. But if Darin really, really doesn’t want to connect with the guy, she shouldn’t be pressuring him to do otherwise. (But of course Darin is the immaculate offspring of the Blessed Saint Dead Lisa and without sin, so he can’t be involved in anything untoward unless he’s led into it by a lesser being.)
One of the few things I recall about reading Complete FW vol 1, is that Batiuk fancies himself some type of master of punning and clever wordplay. He may truly think crustaceous ketchup is a pun, or funny in some manner, or equates to a joke. My condolences to his family and friends for any moments in the past they have been subjected to his bon mots.
Inkwell: Sure, it’s her business… but he still he said no.
TheDiva: Oh, I agree it’s Jess’ business what her husband does regarding his bio-daddy, and she can certainly talk about it and offer her opinion. But if Darin really, really doesn’t want to connect with the guy, she shouldn’t be pressuring him to do otherwise.
Thanks to both of the above snarkers for gently making the real point that needed making: a real-life couple in this (ridiculous) situation would and should at least talk it over with each other. I’d already seen this entire week’s worth of strips when I wrote my post: Jessica’s incessant nagging got to me and I snapped at her. I’m OK now.
If it’s from Montoni’s….I don’t think it’s shrimp.
God help me, I want to look away from this train wreck of a comic strip serial art, but I’m too weak. Anyone know of a 12 step program for FW?–
I have a two step program…it involves gouging both your eye sockets out.
If it’s from Montoni’s….I don’t think it’s shrimp.
I have no idea what that pile of goo in Dacron’s plate is, but it sure as hell isn’t shrimp.
They can afford this fancy feast because the sauce is literally crustaceous—covered in a hard crust.
I’d already seen this entire week’s worth of strips when I wrote my post: Jessica’s incessant nagging got to me and I snapped at her.
Oh sweet pickled guiding Monoliths, this crap goes on for a week?!
OK, so while it may indeed be her “business”, it’s his decision. Something about the way she rudely interrupted the guy’s dinner with her ultra-serious tone just set me off.
Not that Boy Lisa’s action make much sense, he met his birth mother for fifteen minutes sixteen years ago and he’s buying Kentucky Derby-sized floral arrangements for her grave, yet he’s adamant about not meeting FTR. Perhaps it would make a bit of sense if, you know, someone ELSE was telling this story instead of a guy who ignores detail after detail, leaving his “readers” to guess. A little related dialog might help but then there’d be no time for terrible wordplay.
Darin: “Now pass me the mayo, or as I like to call it, albino ketchup!”
Jess: “Does this albino ketchup remind you of your birth father?”
Darin: “….*….uh….I’m not sure I should answer that kind of conjunction.”
Jess: “Fair enough.”
Oh sweet pickled guiding Monoliths, this crap goes on for a week?!
Whenever i see two people talking for a Funky Monday’s strip i just assume that we’re going to watch this conversation play out all week. Is that just me?
I finally figured out this plot, Frankie’s going to reveal he has prostate cancer. Hence Frankie will become the male counterpart to Saint Lisa. Hence……FRANKIE’S STORY!!
I took a peek at the rest of this week’s strips. This isn’t really a spoiler, because we all see it coming.
Tuesday:
Jessica: Will you talk to your father today?
Darrin: No!
Wednesday:
Jessica: How about today?
Darrin: No!
Thursday:
Jessica: Please?
Darrin: No!
Friday:
Jessica: Pretty please?
Darrin: Fuck no!
Saturday:
Jessica: I’ll take my top off.
Darrin: No! I mean…. no!
Sunday:
Jessica: Will you…?
Darrin: Fuckin’ Christ!! Fine, I’ll meet my birth father, following this two-week cutaway arc about Crazy Harry reading his latest Tarzan comic!
Seeing these two nitwits sitting in their stinkin’ apartment, I can smell it all the way over here — A foul combination of grease, stale garlic, b.o., and Funky’s farts.