Tag: Holly

‘Twas the Flight Before Christmas

I wonder what “business” requires “the Funkman” to travel by plane. He’s not visiting the franchise locations, since the New York shop closed up years ago.

We’re all familiar with Batiuk’s use of “photo album corners” and sepia tones to depict past events. Today he thoughtfully employs a similar visual cue, the “squiggly-bordered panel”, lest the reader become confused by the abrupt jump-cut from Montoni’s to some airport.

La Douche

I suspect that rather than carry them over into the new year, Batiuk is obligated to burn off every shitty pun that he’s scrawled on a Luigi’s napkin over the last twelve months. Even the puns in French, which are harder for people who are not Les Moore to “get”. Polishing this turd of a gag into a strip requires Les to deliver the jeu de mots, since he’s the only one intellectual enough to coin (and appreciate) such a clever jest.

Oh Tree Oh My

Your genial host TFH returns to guide us all through the holiday madness! My sincerest thanks as always to DavidO, Epicus Doomus, Beckoning Chasm, Oddnoc, and billytheskink for their guest contributions, and most especially to you, the reader. While it seems odd to some that we daily read and analyze a comic strip that makes us mad, it’s always good to commune with those with whom we share something in common, especially around the holidays.

At first glance, today’s strip seems to depict Holly and Funky about to be abducted by aliens. No such luck: it’s just another “taking things to the extreme” gag involving the gazebo tree. Query why, if the lights are so uncomfortably bright, the Winkerbeans are drawn like moths to it, standing so close to the light that it blinds them. Even Batiuk’s Medina neighbors must be scratching their heads over this one: the gazebo’s real-life counterpart is much more tastefully appointed.

C’est la Mort!

Well, after a week spent rehashing Funky’s failed fitness program, today’s strip is a change of pace indeed!

Six months after we learned of it, Funky finally gets around to telling Holly that his father has started smoking. As he’s telling her this, a nurse passes by pushing a wheelchair in which sits the crumpled, soulless husk of Ed Crankshaft! But that, that’s not the big news! Today we learn that Funky’s dad has a name!

No doubt his friends knew him as “Mort.” His daughter-in-law, however, in the first time we’ve seen her come to visit, stiffly addresses him: “Hello, Morton” (I imagine her intoning this the same way Seinfeld would say  “Hello, Newman“). Without imparting a hug or a kiss, she proceeds to lace into him about his recently acquired habit. Mort gives no fucks: he proceeds to smoothly light two cigs with his Zippo, proffering the second one to his lady friend.

Six months ago a doctor took Funky aside and raised the prospect of moving his father into “full-time nursing care.” But Mort seems happier and more engaged then we’ve ever seen him.