Tag: smirk

Veally Lame

This strip is another in the long line of Batiuk Sunday strips that really only need to be two panels. And like usual for Batiuk, it’s a really weak joke. Mommy bag, ha ha. I kind of doubt Holly’s mom will be mentioned again anytime soon, since the only reason she is here is so Batiuk can deploy the hilarious gag he thought up. Although I really can see Holly and Funky going house shopping. That would be the right combination of tedious and misery inducing for this strip. And where are Holly and Funky eating? I thought for sure Westview just had Montoni’s and the Toxic Taco.

Thanks for putting up with me again!  Beckoning Chasm takes over tomorrow.

What’s Black-and-White and Dreaded All Over?

Honestly, I kinda dig the newspaper montage in the throwaway panel of today’s strip… such famous banners as the Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Herald (known as the Herald-Express in the 40s), San Francisco Call (known as the Call-Bulletin in the 40s), and… uh, the Oxnard Daily Courier (known as the Press-Courier in the 40s). The “His Famous Smile Is Gone” headline is actually a pretty upper-middle shelf bit of stupidly maudlin 1940s newspapering. What I like ends there, though…

WILSON BELLOWS INKPOT?! Are you kidding me, Batiuk?! “Butter Brickle” was too silly a name, had to be changed to the essentially nonexistent surname “Brinkel”… but some William Randolph Hearst-Snidely Whiplash mash-up robber barron (oh, there’s a 1940s trope, not an 1890s one… no sir!) named “Bellows” AND “Inkpot” is kosher?

Why, that’s almost as asinine as Jessica, who was in the same high school class as her husband Durwood (born in 1986) comparing yellow newspaper journalism with modern online sensationalism as if she didn’t grow up with supermarket tabloids and Les Moore writing a book about her vapid TV host father’s murder. Almost…

A Butter Pie?

“How dare you?” is usually asked rhetorically, but in Battywood, it gets answered with a pie in the face. Comedy gold.

The draughtsmanship in today’s strip is nothing special. “Butter” Brinkel looks like a pre-dementia Bull Bushka, while his leading lady has a very contemporary look for an “old movie serial” actress. The film reel sprocket hole borders are a nice change from the usual photo album corners.
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Change for the Worst

Today’s strip:

August 3, 2018:

Today’s strip and this week’s arc continue to practically mirror those of last August. Again, for those of you who’ve recently started reading Funky Winkerbean:  even given FW’s elastic, nonsensical reckoning of time, Darin Fairgood has got to be at least forty years old, which many would consider “young” (certainly younger than me). But it’s unlikely that his presence at a postal counter would raise any eyebrows. What the hell’s with the 72-year-old Batiuk’s contempt for old people, the post office, and old people at the post office? Anyway, I happen to think that “a wallet that has a change purse” sounds pretty cool, and clearly, Darin thinks so too.

Like I Care

Having satisfied her simian sexual appetites, as well as getting in a “bonding moment” with her child, Jessica has hastened back to L.A.—the world must not be made to wait any longer for that very important Butter Brinkel documentary! She’s probably been back in town barely long enough to unpack her suitcase; long enough to compel Darin to show his “caring” by sending her a package. Rather, “one of” his packages, which suggests this is a thing with him. Batiuk persists in depicting Darin and Jessica as these two starry eyed, young sweethearts, tragically kept apart by their respective, oh-so-important careers.