Tag: Montoni's

My Heroes Have Always Been Band Directors

Big ups to Epicus Doomus for the last two weeks of posts. In addition to crafting great posts and post titles, Epicus manages the guest author rotation and is my right hand man around here. Without him, there would be no SoSF.

In a rare bit of Funky fortuitousness, today’s strip involves alfresco dining, an activity that’s more popular right now than it’s ever been.  What at first appears to be an old married couple in panel 1’s aerial perspective turns out to be Harry Dinkle and a friend. Judging from how non-generically the other gent is rendered here, he must also be a real-life friend of Batiuk and/or Ayers.

I donned my PPE and took a deep dive into the Act II archives for a refresher about the circumstances surrounding Dinkle’s “retirement.” Near the end of Act II, Becky Winkerbean, as she was known then, took over as band director  when Dinkle was promoted to WHS’ music supervisor. His actual retirement happened “offscreen,” during the second 10 year time jump. Shortly thereafter, his beleaguered wife Harriet pleaded with, and possibly bribed, the school board president to install Harry as director of the performing arts center that bore his name, just to get him out of the house. It’s doubtful whether that director role entails hanging around the high school and basically serving as Becky’s co-band director. Look at him smirk in panel 3 at his friend’s quip. Harry Dinkle doesn’t know the meaning of retirement. No, seriously…he doesn’t know the meaning of retirement.

When I lay my Isaac down.

Link to today’s strip

“I think I was starting to hallucinate.”

No Funky, you had an entire conversation with a non-existent robot.

If the heat and your exertion is causing you to hallucinate a talking robot, then you probably should seek medical help immediately, as heatstroke can lead to brain damage, organ damage, and death.

There’s another possibility here of course. The possibility that Isaac has been Les all along. That Funky was seeing Les as he really is: a smug, soulless machine, created to serve his master by doling out smug superiority and cancer books, while every thing around him decays into lumps of stagnant, half-realized notions as the creator loses interest.

For one brief conversation, the horrific reality that is Les Moore was made visible to Funky’s eyes, until his brain caught up and applied the protective illusion that allows Funky to enjoy what he can of his two dimensional existence.

Funky hadn’t started hallucinating, he had just, for a moment, stopped.

Brownie Pointless

The squick continues in today’s strip…

Good grief Linda, you two aren’t even done moving all of Bull’s junk to the car and you’re trying to set up a date?! Also, “buying you A lunch”?! Who talks like that? And the worst part, you take Buck to Montoni’s! I’m pretty sure taking someone in the throes of CTE-dementia to Montoni’s is at least a misdemeanor. It certainly should be.

Buck, pick another topic. Linda has already heard all about “those privileged @#*%!!” from… oy, Brownie Point. She would know more if Crazy hadn’t stolen Bull’s DVD of Westview’s game against them… but that’s no reason to fill her in. She was married to a guy who reminisced in excess about his high school football career for 30 years, so she’s probably heard enough… eh, scratch that. Maybe listening to high school football stories is her thing.

Hollow E’en

Link to today’s strip (eventually).

Today’s strip was not available for preview, but thanks to Fearless Leader’s diligence, we got a tiny glimpse of it.  Looks like the pizza monster has obtained his yearly token of appreciation and left in a hurry.   And there’s some speculation as to the identity of the fiend, with guesses of Crazy Harry and John, and a request for the monster operator’s initials.

Again, presented sideways–because Art has to Hurt or it isn’t REAL Art.

Looks (from the “preview”) like tomorrow’s episode will show Funky exerting himself, and…that’s all my eyestrain can take.  Seriously, I already have ailments, I don’t need vision-related ones based on a gag.  A gag, I note, that started out with a bit of promise, but as always with this strip, soon succumbed to the author’s inexplicable need to lower all standards.  Can’t he tell a single stupid joke?  Apparently, at one time, he was able to, but that ability was traded away for some magic beans labelled “Respectability.”   And we all know what beans are best at producing.

Happy Halloween, everyone!  Here’s hoping you enjoyed the holiday.  It’s sometimes fun to be scared, but never fun to fear what comes next in Funky Winkerbean.  Because the abyss is always looking back.

(I bet trick-r-treaters have learned to avoid the Batiuk house, since all he gives out are copies of Lisa’s Story.  With the flourish of a felt-tip and an offer of an autograph.)

Breakneck Pacing

Link to today’s strip.

Looks like we’re in for a whole week of sideways strips.  And once again, the format is pointless.  Does Batiuk think New York Times readers will enjoy his daring staging?  OOOoooOOoooOOooo…so avant garde!  Expanding the boundaries of the comics page!

Or does he think they enjoy stretching their necks?  If so, at least reward them with something worth the effort.

Which this decidedly is not.  I thought the week started out well, as noted a tiny bit whimsical, but now it’s just more revenge porn against Funky.  Yes, we are supposed to believe that Funky is so stupid he thinks this is a real monster, and he’d better cater to its wishes…or else.  I mean, the damned thing is weaponless.  Any sudden movement would send it to the floor in a heap.

Sigh.  Heaven forbid you were the popular kid when Batiuk was in your high school class.  How dare you be popular, and well-liked, and generally normal!   Don’t you know Les’ wife died of cancer twenty years ago!!

In fact, the more I think about it, the more it seems that the “Lisa’s Story” garbage was thrown into the strip to point out to “new” readers that, yes, Bull died…but that’s not the death you need to concern yourself with.  Just imagine the panic that must have gone through his mind when he realized people might say, “Funky Winkerbean?  Oh, yeah, that’s the one where the coach died.”