“Don’t look back: something might be gaining on you.” Funky disregards the advice of the great Satchel Paige, and frets about the old lady and the stroller mom who are hot on his heels. He should be more worried about Masky McDeath catching up with him.
As he did last week with the name “Jitters Coffee Shop”, TB once again manages to squeeze in the link to lisaslegacyfund.org. Oh well, I guess it’s for a good cause.
I told you it was a murder plot! For all you snarkers who wondered what became of Cell Phone Girl: there she is in panel one, talking on her cellphone (natch), just waiting for her cue to run Funky’s fat ass into the ditch, this time for good.
And for those of you (suckers) who are still looking for any kind of linear continuity in the Funkiverse: the last time jump was three years ago next week…Funky was (supposed to be) 46 years old. So despite how old Batiuk makes him look, he wouldn’t even be fifty yet (his birthday is ostensibly in late March), let alone “in” his fifties. Oh well, it sets up the “punchline”.
Funky has sought out a park bench far away from the crowd in order to limber up his wobbly, creaky, Stilton-toned legs, when along comes Crazy Harry. “Crazy” actually seems kind of normal today. It’s only when he’s in his postal uni and tweed cap, swilling free coffee at Montoni’s counter, that he rambles nonsensically. What does our mailman deliver today? Just a setup for yet another Funky rant about the cost of living.
The pacing of this strip has gone from bad to unbearable. Start the race already! I guess wearing a STAFF shirt gives one license to not only dispense advice, but to emphasize said advice by wagging a finger. I have some advice for ya, Funky: what you need to stretch is your wife’s neck.
For the third day in a row we are asked to marvel at the presence of Funky at a 5K run. “Holly saw this as a chance to build on the work I’ve been doing since my accident and end up in an even better spot.” Idiot: Holly’s plot to have you die in a car crash failed, so plan B is to get you to run until you drop dead.
Somebody tell Pink Visor Lady in panel 2 that the “Race for the Chinless” was last week.
Son of Stuck Funky 
