football – Page 5 – Son of Stuck Funky

Speaking of “Deeply Flawed…”

I dunno, Buck. I’d say if the plan is getting rid of you, then it’s moving along swimmingly. On the other hand, I’d like to lodge a complaint that Les is still around.

Again, I remain baffled that this was “written,” “drawn” and published. Only the last seems to’ve been done with any talent or purpose. People who are naively expecting a “prestige” arc from this strip are not going to be at all satisfied with what they’re getting. (Regular readers know to expect nothing, or worse.) This whole are doesn’t seem have any point behind it; two people in a room babbling past each other. The dialogue is meant to seem deep and profound, but it just comes across as moronic.

If Batiuk had an occasional story that at least did something, I’d write this one off as something fished out of the trash because the deadline was RIGHT THERE. There’s no excuse to have something so utterly pointless printed under one’s name.

That 50th can’t get here fast enough.

Bobbleheaded Booby

Link to today’s strip.

Okay, I’m genuinely baffled by what the Hell Buck is talking about. I mean, I think I’m aware that there are “bobblehead days” for major league teams, where toys are given out in the likeness of one of the star players. And he wishes he had that kind of fame. I get that part.

It’s the “not with my own head” that seems to come out of nowhere…that, I don’t get.

If I had to take a stab at it, I’d guess that Batiuk has no idea at all what sportos talk about when they get together, so any errant bit of nonsense is good enough to mail off to the printer. “What would sports fans do? I’ll use Google. Huh, ‘Bobblehead Day’? That sounds interesting! Let’s just click–oh, wait, time for Flash comics. Oh well, it’s probably just a day where they take off their heads and juggle them.”

Now, if it was comic book fans, every utterance would be accurate down to the smallest detail (unless one of those details is spelling Joe Shuster’s name correctly).

All of the above makes me wonder what this arc is supposed to be about. It’s clearly not about any of Batiuk’s passions; it seems too banal to be award bait; and it isn’t entertaining at all. Is it supposed to be heartwarming and sentimental? Because it’s nowhere near that.

That leaves the only remaining answer as “one more week of carp pumped out on the way to that 50th.”

Imagine if the last fifteen years of Peanuts had been panel after panel of Linus in a beanbag chair in front of the TV, Snoopy lying on top of his doghouse, and Charlie Brown with his head in his hands. No dialogue; just those things, over and over for years.

I suppose it could always be worse. Linda hands Buck a book. “I think you would’ve wanted to have Bull’s autographed copy of Lisa’s Story!” “Lisa’s Story? Oh wow, I’ve heard that book is supposed to be entirely awesome, uplifting and kind of humbling, at the same time. Oh, I’ll treasure this–and I can’t wait for the movie!”

The Helmet of DEATH

Link to today’s strip.

Is that the helmet that Bull was wearing when he died? That seems like a remarkably tasteless gift, to be honest.

Of course, Buck’s line is rather tasteless as well–“I was one of the guys who gave your husband the CTE that killed him!”

I guess “tastelessness” is a characteristic; it’s certainly better than the boredom and uninteresting trivia we’ve been served thus far. But you’d think Tom Batiuk would reach for something a bit more positive. Hey, remember when he used to be funny? Those days are rapidly receding in the rearview mirror, soon to be forgotten by all.

It makes me wonder why he decided to do this comic strip in the first place. Did he really want to take uninteresting stories and stretch them to tedious length? Because that’s exactly what he’s doing.

I honestly don’t know what the point is to any of this. And really, I could say that about any Funky Winkerbean strip from the past few years, come to think.

The Buck Stops There

Link to today’s thing.

Hello, folks; BChasm back in the Box. Shout-out to Comic Book Harriet, who as always did a stellar job of entertaining and educating us…things l’Auteur Glorieux feels are now beneath him. Well done, especially with such poor material to work with.

Speaking of being back, guess who has returned? That’s right, it’s nobody’s favorite smirker, Buck Somethingorother. You remember, the guy who couldn’t resist smirking wryly to both Linda and Bull while reminding them about the latter’s impending death. And speaking of impending death, Buck is getting his! “I’m afraid that the news isn’t that good, Buck” says Doctor Flattop, “You’re a character in Funky Winkerbean.” Now, I may be stupid, and this strip may be making me more so, but I thought Buck played football. Isn’t “layup” a basketball term? Shouldn’t he say, “You always gotta throw the penalty flag, don’t you?” I guess once you’re a sporto, you’re required by cosmic law to make only sports-related metaphors, even if they aren’t your sports.

I’d really like to know what’s going on with Doctor Flattop’s head. In panel two, it looks like there’s a second head emerging from the back of his skull. Is it Voldemort? Because that could be an interesting development.

Oh, I’ve just killed it. I used the forbidden word, “interesting.”

Pigging Out.

Today’s strip, when it drops.

As usual Sunday wasn’t available for preview. And I’m too worn out to wait for it to drop.

Ironically, I spent the afternoon and evening at my very first college football game. Iowa vs. Minnesota. It was an absolutely awesome time. Iowa fans were so excited when they won they rushed the field, as the ecstatic team held aloft Floyd of Rosedale, still safe in Iowa’s care.

Floyd of Rosedale is an 80 year old bronze pig the winning team gets to keep for the year. It references the time when the governors of Iowa and Minnesota bet an actual live hog on the outcome of the 1935 game.

What I’m saying is football is a, weird, exciting sport, with rich history and traditions. If enjoying the game today was also spiting Tom Batiuk’s horrible CTE arc, then I enjoyed it twice as much.