Funky’s dad – Page 6 – Son of Stuck Funky

Casa-Blahca

Oh, wow, way to go, Funky, you made your dad almost smile by putting on some old movie. Either that or he’s passing gas.

Snarkers, it doesn’t take much in the math dept to figure that dear ol “one foot in the grave, one foot on a banana peel.” Winkerbean is, at youngest 66, at oldest, what, in his mid-80s? To say the man is a vegetable is an insult to garden produce; is it possible TB is trying to write about something he doesn’t really understand again?

Maybe I just know a lot of 80+ year old people that can still carry on a conversation, but I don’t think it’s just me.

This is your life, Pa Winkerbean..

Any regrets? Well here comes one now! There’s your fat-ass ungrateful son coming in to spend hours and hours with you staring at a television set, ignoring you like always but at least now he can feel *good* about ignoring you because he’s in the same room as you. Even though it appears death is coming (Why a week-long set up for a character we never see otherwise?) it won’t be soon enough; Batiuk is going to keep your poignant tale on the backburner until at least 2016.

Twilight Saga

Sigh. I don’t know. If I found myself transported back to the hometown of my high school years (1972-1976), I’d be all over the place, taking in the sights and sounds, dropping in on family, friends, and old loves, visiting the places that are gone.

This tired old fuck sits on a park bench. What is it with people in this strip with park benches?

Looks like the Fourth of July festivities have ended; the good folk of late-20th century Westview have gone home to watch The ABC Sunday Night Movie, and they’ll be rolling up the sidewalks soon. Old Funky sits alone, enumerating, in order, the things that occupy his thoughts: the economy…his elderly father…and…what’s my son’s name? Oh, yeah, Cody, uhh, Cory.

Father's Daze

That’s a vodka and orange? Orange juice or orange soda? Looks like piss…I can see the straw. That must be a hell of a strong drink. You’re supposed to pour the booze first, then the mixer. And where’s the ice? And why is the bar napkin next to the glass instead of under it? Did I mention I used to tend bar? These details are killing me.

Batiuk supplies another piece of the puzzle that is Pa Winkerbean: we learn that he liked the Cleveland Indians and corny jokes. The joke is similar to the one I heard after Cory Lidle died in a plane crash: they couldn’t sell beer in Yankee Stadium because they ran out of pitchers!

Meanwhile, the bartender muses to himself, Bogart-like: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all of northeastern Ohio, this mope walks into mine…”

Option Play

File today’s strip under “someone uttering a stilted, awkward line of dialogue in panel 2 to set up a weak “punchline” in panel 3 (think of Keisha and Cayla’s “pearl in the shell” exchange a few weeks ago)”. Really, what kind of “options” will Pa be treated to at Bedside Manor? The option of spoon feeding or a tube? Bingo or Mah Jongg? The option of being benignly neglected by the staff vs. being utterly disregarded by his family? Yeah, I guess those are better than no options at all. Poor Funky Winkerbean.