Tag: Marianne

Real Pain for My Sham Friends

J.J. O’Malley
February 20, 2022 at 10:54 pm
[A]t what point in this week’s proceedings will the paparazzi show up at the restaurant to snaps photos of Ms. Winters and Mr. Jarre canoodling in their private booth, with the resultant publicity throwing Cindy into a violent, shoe-throwing fit of jealousy and sending Marianne on a nighttime visit to the Hollywood sign for a cord-free bungee jump?

This friendly luncheon between the two costars does seem to be taking a decidedly datelike turn: Mason’s arm is now around or at least behind Marianne, and he orders another “calamaro” and some champagne. Wonder what they bring you at Musso and Frank when you order champagne without first perusing the wine list? Especially when you tell your waiter “You can bring us a bottle of champagne” like he’s the butler.

When Mason’s right, folks, he’s right:
Unless you consume it by the gallon, choosing Champagne over wine or beer represents the diet option. Sort of. A small flute of brut Champagne…is usually 80 to 100 calories, fewer than in a [6 oz.] glass of wine and far healthier than a pint of beer. –Guy Kelly, “5 reasons Champagne is surprisingly good for you,” New York Post, December 9, 2015

Keto-Sabe

At least the dialogue in today’s strip sounds like it’s coming from two hip Hollywood adult types, and not from a couple of awkward teens on a first date. Mason has somehow managed to gain thirty pounds after five months of keto. And Marianne’s macro-meals are prepared not by her mom, but by a chef. Alas, as befits her waiflike persona, she’s still “always hungry.”

Leave the Gun, Take the Calamari

Banana Jr. 6000
February 18, 2022 at 8:06 am
[E]veryone in Funky Winkerbean is just a schlub from Westview. Even the people who are supposed to be celebrities. And aren’t from Westview.

As lame as yesterday‘s punchline was (“She was a real hair-devil!”), it did meet the requirements of a joke. Barely. But I can’t tell what’s supposed to be funny about today’s strip. Panel one shows some promise: for a Hollywood movie star, that Mason “Crappy Internet” Jarre is a cheap bastard, all right. When the waiter (the mystery mug in this week’s masthead!) confirms his order, Mason appears stricken, and then proceeds to pointedly “correct” his server: “No…no appetizer!” as Marianne sits, smirks, and simpers. What the hell does Mason think comprises “one calamari”? Cut into rings, battered, and deep fried, with a side of marinara, squid can indeed be tasty. But a whole, cooked squid on a plate would appeal only to the most adventurous foodie, and that ain’t Mason. Calamari (or as we say it in Jersey, galamad) isn’t even on the appetizer menu at Musso and Frank, where this lunch is supposedly taking place. Nor is it  on the menu [PDF] at Luigi’s of Akron, which is just as well because their galamad would probably suck.

Hair I Go Again on My Own

The part of panel 1 Marianne will be played by a bedraggled young Dustin Hoffman in a black tank top.

That’s right, folks: Marianne Summers— sorry, Winters’ glamorous look doesn’t just happen! She requires a professional to style the dead grackle that sits atop her empty head. In fact, during the height of Covid, Marianne’s hair appointments were the only matter of sufficient urgency to get her to leave her Mom’s bungalow. Of course, this raises questions about where she was going to get her hair done, since the salons were all “shut down” too.

By way of some programming notes: as we head into spring, a few other notable occasions are coming up: least notably, April 11th marks the twelfth anniversary of the blog you are reading. That’s preceded by Tom Batiuk’s 75th birthday on March 14th, and on March 27th, Funky Winkerbean‘s 50th! Your friends here at SoSF will be planning…something, something fun I guess. Stay tuned and stay Funky. –TFH

 

Play The Stupid Game, Win Stupid Prizes

Link To The Sunday Strip

Yes, what Marianne needs to realize is that no matter what the outcome may be, her career and her life are both effectively over, as the whole Oscars thing (and the entire entertainment industry as a whole) is a giant sewer of lies, deceit and trampled dreams. But it’s OK, as whaddya gonna do?

What she also doesn’t realize is that they have these things called brushes and combs nowadays, as well as a plethora of various sprays, gels and pastes that keeps your hair from getting all ratty and unkempt while you’re out and about. It seems peculiar that a woman her age, in her business, wouldn’t be aware of the existence of these things, but whaddya gonna do?

This arc sure got really annoying really quickly, didn’t it? The irony of BatHam droning on about the inequities and pitfalls of showbiz awards wasn’t lost on me, as it’s pretty much a recurring theme at this point. Perhaps he should try to win an award for something, THEN run his mouth, like how you’re supposed to do.

And on that note, I’m outta here until April Fools Day, when I’ll be going into detail about the Department Of Justice’s crusade against SoSF. Up next, the Captain himself, TF Hackett!