Tag: Harry Dinkle

Losing Track

Programming note: SoSF’s 7th Anniversary draws nigh! In honor of the occasion, we’ve brought back the “randomized page headers” that were such a hit a year ago. Enjoy, and stay tuned for an anniversary giveaway! Stay Funky.


The series of inconvenient events continues as Dinkle and Dinklette must travel somewhere outside of Westview to a town that still has a post office. And what at what post office/bureau of motor vehicles/doctor’s office/retail store/fitness center/old folks home in the Funkiverse are you not greeted by a miserable, sarcastic, unattractive person who proceeds to insult you to your face?

A.K.A. El Dinko

In the Funkiverse, camera tripods were never invented. Harry sits for the obligatory passport photo, and Harriet finally gets to open that frog mouth of hers. If you asked me to imagine what a “drug overlord” looks like, I wouldn’t immediately picture a white-haired, unshaven, scowling septuagenarian, but the syndicate probably thought “another photo of you that looks a little less like a child molester” was a bit too edgy.

You Shall Not Passport

Seriously. I may be closer in age to Funky than to Dinkle, but no, Lefty: I’ve never had a passport. Never needed one. You know, not everyone goes jetting off to Iraquistan to adopt war orphans. Hey, what the hell ever happened to your daughter Rana anyway?

I may not have a passport, but you know what I do have? A driver’s license. And every four years I have to renew it; and unless there’s a long line, I manage to accomplish this in one visit, and usually without drawing sneering contempt from clerks and state troopers. I can’t imagine getting a passport is much more involved than that:  as long as one is able to produce a couple supporting documents and is prepared to fork over the fee, it certainly should not entail “a few months” worth of paperwork. But hey, readers love the “older people hate dealing with bureaucracy” trope, so let’s go back to that well one more time.

Symphonic Sweet

Having established an theme for the week, the cartoonist must next come up with five, maybe six more strips to move the story forward. Since Dinkle’s already been honored with an eponymous line of marching band shoes (in real life!), having a candy bar named after him seems like a natural. But the “Harry L. Dinkle Raisin the Bar“? Well, there are some confections that combine chocolate and raisins; throw in peanuts and you’ve got the delicious Chunky bar. But “raisin bar” suggests a baked treat, not a candy bar. And while hitting a sales record does indeed constitute “raisin[g] the bar”, you’d think recognition of Dinkle’s “career in music” would merit some kind of musical play on words.