Tag Archives: enraging hair strands


It continues in today’s strip… “it” being history’s longest drive from Florida to Ohio. Or maybe it is a chronicle of the most unbelievably boring competitors to have ever taken part in The Cannonball Run.

I don’t know if this is the best of this week’s miserable set of strips or the worst. One one hand, everyone gets a rare moment of positivity: Holly’s mom is certainly enjoying her reminiscence of Holly’s childhood, Holly seems to be enjoying it as well, and even Funky is spared TB’s wrath for one panel. On the other hand, this strip also rips each and every one of those positive bits away because TB long ago decided that Funky and anyone in his orbit are not allowed to have nice things. Yep, this is the worst… nothing worse than a tease.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

Azore Subject

Well, that didn’t last long. The shared affection seen yesterday has evaporated, like much of Lake Chad, by today’s strip. In its place we get ennui, hairy sofa cushions, and a plot synopsis for the Waterworld prequel.

None of that surprises me, though. What does surprise me is that TB didn’t have Kablichnick deliver this joke to a class full of terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad young people. In any event, it adds to the clip show feel of this whole week.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky

The Winters Of Our Non-Content

Link to today’s strip

That hair strand invading the word balloon in panel three is one of the single most enraging things I’ve ever seen. And Marianne’s peculiarly proportioned body probably says a lot about the artist responsible for drawing it, the less said there the better. The biggest question at this point is how long can Frankie continue to make that ominously sneering face? Is that his default expression now? Did he remember to lock up the Food Film truck before he left? And why did Mason and Marianne leave the front door open like that?  Mysteries abound.

The dialog today is really bottom of the barrel though. Hey, remember back before Marianne was a real character, back when she was still a mysterious home-wrecking vixen? Me either. Turns out she’s just an ordinary girl with a solid set of good old fashioned mid-central-Ohioian values who just happens to live in Hollywood with her adorable stereotypical mom, that’s all. As always, BatNom grinds everything down until there’s not a single edge of entertainment left, just a smooth flat bland surface full of contrived dialog and stupid smirks.


Filed under Son of Stuck Funky