Funky’s brief glimmer of pleasure at seeing his future wife in her teen majorette splendor is short-lived: he’s back to ruminating about the very unfairness of adult life. The “saved by rock and roll” cliché is just that: did any of us in our youth really, really take it to heart? I sure hope not.
Is Funky now wandering in circles? Yesterday he was standing beside the gazebo; today he’s approaching it from a distance.
Instead of the mangled mixed metaphor in panel three (I’m thinking of a Great White swinging a baseball bat)…it would be funny to have somebody overhear Funky in panel two and exclaim, “What? Elvis? Died???“
Son of Stuck Funky 