Did you think that Funky dropping one of Santa’s reindeer off the roof yesterday would be the setup for anything more than a one-off “dear/deer” punchline? Like maybe it landed on the cop who wrote Funky a ticket for his reindeer four years ago? Lower those expectations, people! Today, as snow continues to fall from a seemingly clear blue sky, we see that no reindeer (or cops) were harmed.
Tag: pizza
Mama Mia, Pizzeria!
Tuesday! Where we rush into a plot-line that we’ve literally already seen before. I’m not just just referring to when Darrin was born but in the 600 times his delivery was mentioned in the strip since. I mean, no wonder Darrin is having Deja-Vu about it, how many times has he had to sit through the story of his rush to the hosptial?
Odds that Fred is going to pop out of his medical drama to “help with the delivery” are looking pretty darned high from the looks of today’s strip.
She’s Having a Tired Plot Device
‘Ello! 4th-trumpet and Westview Waterboy DavidO is checking in, giving much-needed relief to Beckoning Chasm after BC’s two week run of excellent Funky snarking.
On to the funnies!
Hoo-boy. Put on your Members Only Jacket and throw on your Michael Jackson album because we’re about to retread over one of the tiredest troupes in situation comedy, the “Oh God, I’m having a baby, let’s duck into the nearest malfunctioning elevator that has a Rabbi, a mime and a 300lb guy who easily faints in it.” routine that was required in every sitcom, by congressional mandate, from 1983-1994.
Today’s strip throws logic out the window in favor of comedy, though I still don’t see how a panicked trip to the hospital where you gnaw your fingertips raw with anxiety constitutes comedy.
This sort of strip is great at illustrating why cell phones are the bane of screenwriters everywhere. In the age of instant connection, Jess could have just texted Durwood to come pick her up; she’s really feeling it and it’s almost time. The suitcase would already be in the car in that scenario; no need for a pregnant woman to go hauling it around.
I can’t peek ahead, so there’s no way of knowing if this arc is going to go on for weeks or if the Sainted Grandbaby will be enrolled in Westview High this time next month. Either way, prepare for every single worn out fumbling-dad-goes-to-the-hospital schtick ever seen in the last three centuries.
“Rent” Control
TFH here, tippin’ the ol’ SoSF K-pot to Beckoning Chasm for two weeks of outstanding guest posting! Guest host DavidO brings the snark for a couple weeks starting tomorrow.
Before anyone asks: I’m not going to add “rents” (slang for parents) to the Batiuktionary…I actually have heard this usage (once) in real life, and it can also be found in that context on Google and Urban Dictionary. Now that we got that out of the way: war-torn Afghanistan provides the reader a welcome respite from the Taj Moore-hal. TB trusts us (for once) to discern that one of these interchangeable, faceless soldiers is none other than Our Cory. The soldiers having apparently exhausted every other topic for small talk, conversation now turns to the “rents” (in the past tense for reasons unknown). “They constantly invented new ways to be annoying.” At least they’re inventive; meanwhile their Creator constantly annoys by cycling and recycling the same tired tropes. The band director’s changed but being in the band is still an ordeal. The Scapegoats’ standout footballer is now the coach, but the team still loses. War was hell for Wally (who went MIA twice) and will no doubt be hell for cousin Cory.
You Ring, We Bring
TFH here, tippin’ the ol’ SoSF chullo to Oddnoc for two weeks of killer guest posts! Tomorrow, Epicus Doomus steps in!
If Batiuk had ever gone to the trouble of fleshing out the character of Funky’s dad, then maybe we could afford ourselves a chuckle at today’s strip. When he cropped up in Act III, Pa’s broken hip was just a link in a week-long chain of mishaps that befell Funky on his birthday. Since then, Dad (whom Batiuk hasn’t given a first name) is rolled out any time the author wishes to make Funky seem sympathetic: Funky has to schelp his father home to “celebrate” Christmas, or to the mall Food Court for a Father’s Day “lunch”. Dad exists merely as just one more cross for Funky to bear.
Son of Stuck Funky 
