real places in Ohio – Page 4 – Son of Stuck Funky

It’s A Lot Like A Comic Strip But Without The Jokes

I was kind of hoping (as I’m sure most of you were) that Sunday’s Dinkle was a one-off, but all hopes come to Funky Winkerbean to die. I’d be happy to have a week of John and Harry talking about an event that they’ve never been to, but when the chance to shovel in Dinkle rears its ugly head, Batiuk jumps in with both feet.

I hate characters like Les and Darrin, but it’s Dinkle that really pushes the loathing lever to FULL. Both Les and Darrin are obnoxious, untalented dullards who whine when the universe rewards them richly, but neither one is treated like a sage wise oracle the way Dinkle is. And he is utterly undeserving of such worship, but he’s based on a beloved teacher of Batiuk so he gets lionized.

Gah. I say Gah again, sir.

Café Oy Vey

The folks who bring you SoSF rely on Grandpa Google too: mainly to confirm a suspicion that ol’ TB has once again drawn inspiration from his tiny Ohio Universe. The black squirrel on the poster in panel 5 is another tipoff that we’re at Kent State. But KSU’s “Cultural Café” IRL isn’t a permanent dining facility: it’s a monthly series of events “that seeks to educate and familiarize [students, faculty and staff] about the home countries of our international students.” There’s one this Tuesday. With the exception of Adeela and possibly that swarthy guy with the glasses in panel 1, this “café” doesn’t seem any more or less “cultural” than any other spot on campus. But wait! Who’s the gal with the light blue hijab wrapped around her elongated head? Well, since TB teased it in his blog (and Gerald Plourde reminded us in a comment yesterday) it’s not really spoiling the surprise to tell you it’s Wally and Becky’s adopted daughter Rana, who, like Wally, has been missing in action for years.

Veterans’ Day greetings to our readers, and respect and gratitude to our vets. Tune in tomorrow when newly minted guest author SpacemanSpiff85 takes over the helm!

Infinity Bore.

Today’s strip

So sorry for the late post today. Finally went to go see Infinity War, which despite juggling dozens of characters and plotlines, and having plotholes big enough to drive a Hulk truck through, was infinitely better than this because the emotions of individual characters were both believable and dynamic.

This is going for dynamic, since it can’t manage believable, but it falls right on its face at the climax. The worst comic character name since Matter Eater Lad.

My cat sometimes presents me with an inedible pulp on the rug…and it usually takes hours of elbow work to get the stink out.

Tarps for everyone.

Today’s strip reminds me of a story I once heard.

There was an old farmer, set in his ways. His son went to college and came back with all kinds of new-fangled ways to ‘maximize profits.’ He no longer wanted to hear his dad’s old advice, about snakes on the road or frogs chirping, relying instead on science or innovation.

He upgraded all their equipment, used his smart phone to run their irrigation system, bought drones to guard the sheep from wolves instead of the old donkey. But most contentious between father and son was changing the way they handled the manure from their feedlot and pig sheds. The old farmer had always dry composted it for fertilizer, but his son badgered him to build huge wet lagoons covered in plastic tarps to collect all the methane to generate electricity.

Everything went fine. Until one May, it rained and rained and rained and rained, until the lagoons were full to the brim with a fecal slurry. It was on a May day, during the heart of tornado season that a dark funnel cloud formed south of their farm. Touching down over the hog buildings and their very new, very full lagoons, and then headed straight toward the farm house.

“Dad! Dad! We gotta get to the cellar!” The son shouted over the howling wind.

“I got one thing I have to do!” The dad shouted back, as he ran out to the stock barns.

The son followed him at a sprint. His dad grabbed an dusty oil cloth and threw it over the old guard donkey in it’s stall.

“Dad! What the hell are you doing!” His son yelled!

“Son.” the old farmer said, solemnly, “Every old farmer knows, when a shitstorm is coming, you gotta cover your ass.”

Now look at that pile of ‘comic-books’ and tell me that Rusty’s store, (and us by extension) didn’t just get overwhelmed by a massive shitstorm.

Grood Zeb

Link to Today’s Comic.

I think that positivity is an important element of growth. No matter how bad something is, pointing out the good things hopefully gives a foundation for improvement. So, in that light, I am going to use The Sandwich Method, so named because the pieces of bread represent positive feedback/compliments while the meat of the sandwich (or innards if you’re vegetarian) represents constructive criticism.

Bottom slice. The art today is pretty good. The human actually looks human, with no bulbous nose or drooping eyes. The action is dynamic and the background is detailed.

Meat of Criticism: Once again….comics bagged and boarded are colored as if they’re in unmarked Manila envelopes instead of plastic. This makes it look like our protagonist has stayed late to sort his porn.

Top slice of compliments. By Batiukian standards, Rusty Staples isn’t the WORST name they could have come up with. I’ve known several men, (most older than 50) with the name Rusty. And it rolls off the tongue leaps and bounds better than Cliff Angere or Masone Jarre. It’s comics related without being something like, Varence Covar or Polly Bagg.

Olive and toothpick. I’ve been puzzling over the name of the store for hours. What could it be? GROOMED ZEBU? GROOVY ZEB’S? GROUP ZEBRA?

Ground Zero.

The comics shop name is Ground Zero.

I take it back. I take the bread back. There is only the wet slimy coldcuts of criticism here…because Ground Zero is the most offensive name for a shop since a Christmas outlet called Holly Costs No More.