Tag: Rocky

What Are Fiends For?

Link To Today’s Unfunny Episode

Blech, the Corporal looks especially imbecilic today. One has to wonder what he may have been exposed to over there in Afghanistan, although in fairness to the US military and the Afghan people his symptoms look an awful lot like those of a serious pizza and comic book overdose. “I need a fruit cup and a real book…stat! We’re running out of time! OH NO! PATIENT IS SMIRKING!!! WE’RE LOSING HIM!!! CODE DUH….I REPEAT, CODE DUH!!!!!!”.

So Fatso is going to run in some sort of marathon relay race for a charity of Cory’s choosing, which should lead to a lot of wheezing, heart attack symptoms, crushed ankle bones…you know, good ol’ FW style hilarity. And halfway through the race TomBat will suddenly pull another arc switcharoonie and treat us to a week or two worth of Wally getting a new lunch box or Les staring at a tree stump or something else that has nothing to do with anything. Then in August or September we’ll get to see the gang carting Funky home or to the ER with those sub-moronic grins plastered all over their misshapen faces as if something “humorous” has happened. I can (sigh) hardly wait.

Legacy Of Stupidity

Link To Today’s Thing

Or you could return the Lisa’s Legacy money you stole, Corporal. The town is in an advanced state of urban squalor, the high school is barely funded, obese middle-aged people are everywhere…isn’t there ANY other worthwhile cause in that hell-hole? Might I suggest the “Paying For Funky’s Funeral Fund?” or maybe a little something for Cayla after all of Akron attacks and bludgeons that smirking jerk with the annoying headband? Lisa’s legacy has already left enough scars on the FW landscape: that f*cking cancer book, piles and piles of videotapes and journals, Darin, Summer…she’s done quite enough, thank you very much.

My problem with Cory isn’t that the Army turned him into a lean, fit, exceedingly polite young do-gooder, it’s that they turned him into an impossibly bland lean, fit, exceedingly polite young do-gooder. And it all just suddenly happened overnight too and to this point NO ONE has mentioned it even in passing. The surly, misanthropic, sneering young punk of early Act III came home completely transformed to an astonishing degree and it’s attracted no attention whatsoever. You’d think that somebody would say something, right?

Funky Winkerbean: The Anchor, Man

(ZZZZZZZZZZ)

All that time he spent defusing bombs and dodging death over in Afghanistan didn’t do a whole lot for Cory’s cognitive thinking abilities, as he appears to be considering including Funky in some sort of relay race deal, which is a bit like entering an obese donkey in the Kentucky Derby. I liked old Cory better, at least he wasn’t just another predictable Pollyanna do-gooder with a dumb grin on his face 100% of the time. Now though…ugh. If the guy was any more bland he’d be completely invisible.

*Puff* The Tragic Fat Man

Click Here If You Dare

Poor, poor Funky. A decade of steady exercise and he’s more decrepit than ever. Whiner too. One wonders why he keeps it up given how it produces no results whatsoever, but in the Funkyverse logic is kind of…uh…”fluid” like that. Like for example how no one has viciously murdered Les yet despite having numerous opportunities to do so. Very unrealistic. Just visit New Jersey and start gallivanting around with that smirk and that headband and see how far you get. He’d be severely beaten ten times before he hit the pavement.

Merry Les Mess

It Can Indeed Get Worse

Sigh. My most dreaded SoSF hosting scenario…a Les & Funky jogging arc. But wait! Two mysterious strangers approach Les and Funky, asking if they can run with them and…oh. Oh, it’s just Cory (yawn) and Rocky (zzzzz). Given that the new and improved Corporal Cory is about as interesting and entertaining as watching a compost heap molder, I’m not expecting much in the way of long-term plot development here or anything. Har.

Not only does he once again maddeningly start another new arc with like fifty other ones still dangling there, he has the f*cking temerity to put Les in that (sorry, no offense but there’s no other proper way to put it) fruity lavender-ish pink headband of his, which only increases my desire to use some sort of special gun to launch a huge railroad spike through his forehead. Wow is that enraging or what? It’s like he’s taunting me, deliberately looking for ways to annoy me even more, which should not be possible according to all existing scientific models.