Les – Page 90 – Son of Stuck Funky

Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God

There are a lot of folks nowadays who despair over the state of the world. Folks who are religious tell us that, although things may seem bad, God is a kind and loving father who watches over us all, and offers hope to mankind with the promise of ultimate goodness. I guess my question is then, if God loves us all, why did He allow panel two to come into being? It seems to me that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for a lot less than a Les Moore crotch shot. In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king, unless that man reads Funky Winkerbean. Suddenly, having an eye is the worst thing ever. If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out! Or, you know, burn the newspaper.

Perhaps this is God’s way of telling us that we’d better shape up, because the horrors of Hell are far more horrible than we are capable of imagining. In other words…things can get worse than panel two.

Okay, I’m scaring myself now. So, on a strip level, I hate to say it, but this seems more evidence that Tom Batiuk is well aware that his audience is composed entirely of critics, and this drawing of Les is his “Up yours!” to them. I guess my initial response would be “Grow up.” Tom Batiuk is not without talent. Why doesn’t he use it? If this is the case, I just find it very, very sad.

So let’s have some fun with it. Let’s make it a happy thing. Let’s turn that money shot into a funny spot. (Sorry.)

Recommended soundtrack: open a new browser tab, load this, and put it in the background. Suddenly Les Moore is magic!

The original works pretty well too, but I just love the parody of the parody. It takes something existing and makes something new out of it. A good lesson for people who are, supposedly, creative.

Gagging Run

(“Running Gag” has already been used twice…had to come up with something for a title…[hangs head in shame])

Link to today’s strip.

Say, do you ever catch yourself thinking, “You know, those Sunday strips with Funky and Les jogging are great and all, but why are they so darn short? I’d like to see a week of those!” Well, brother, you’re about to get your wish! Have you ever considered therapy?

The joke in this is always the same: Funky’s a fat old doofus who hates exercising and is unequipped to survive it. Les is an up-and-at-’em type who always outperforms. There’s only so many variants on “Funky is a fat lazy loser” and, let me tell you, none of them are funny. This one is just stupid, and poorly presented. It should show Les and Funky speaking on the phone, the night before; then Funky’s dumb non-something would at least make a certain amount of character sense (any excuse to avoid getting up early). Saying his line now, after they’ve been out for a while, makes Funky look genuinely stupid. Talk about low-hanging fruit….

Here’s an idea, Funky. If you hate exercise so much, if it’s nothing but a burden, why not stop? You’ve been doing it for years and it is clearly not benefiting you in any way, other than making you even more miserable (if such a thing is possible) and thus able to commiserate with everyone around you. Your *cough* best friend Les seems to use this time to remind you of how superior to you he is in every way. Let’s face it–you’re never going to lose weight, you’re never going to feel good about yourself, and what you see right now in life is all you will ever have. Your creator clearly despises you. Everything else in the universe is punishing you; you don’t need to join in too. You might die sooner, but you might die happier, too.

Admittedly that’s a stretch, but in this strip, any death seems like a happy occasion. Finally, someone is free of the dark clutches of this strip. Free to rot and molder, and–I think I’ll stop typing now.

Running on Empty

Link to today’s strip

Good news, everybody! Funky doesn’t need to get all meth’d up before pounding the track with Les! He’s tweak free! But just look at the poor bastard. All those drugs really took a toll on him – it looks like Les is jogging with Mort.

engrish I still can’t figure out what goes through T-Bats’ head when he coins a nonsense phrase or tries to force a new meaning onto a bit of the language. Does he think he’s so influential that his imagined meanings will sweep the language and the popular imagination? Does he look at his inked words and think to himself, “Yep. That sounds just like real life”? Or does he just kind of mindlessly parrot out phonemes that he thinks sound cool? He’s like an Engrish T-Shitsu Generator. Man, that is so nordic. Truly, I stand in line.

Get A Grip

Bull’s busted racket in today’s strip would fit real nicely around Les’ cranium, wouldn’t it? Alas, the grinning visage Les sports in panel 1 as he patronizes Bull shows no obvious signs of blunt force trauma.

And so here we are at the presumable conclusion of a 5 strip story arc centered on a “friendly” tennis match between Les and Bull played in Westview, Ohio. It ends with one character welcoming the certainty and nearness of death. Of course it does…

Deuce-bag

Les Moore’s tour of temerity continues in today’s strip. I think we’re seeing why it has been so long since Bull played tennis with Les.

The man is a monster. An individual devoid of any redeeming value. The reason alien invaders will cite for killing every last member of the human race. The image of him smirking, poised to serve, has soured me on the sport of tennis entirely. The revenge fantasies of 90s pop punk bands were kinder to their one-time high school bullies than Les. Donald Trump is appalled by his lack of tact and Bill Laimbeer cannot fathom his level of sportsmanship.

The craziest thing, to me, is that we have known the above to be true for years. We expected this kind of behavior, we know it is coming. It’s terrifying to think about.