If their mutual friend is now “selling band candy full time” then he’s not really retired, is he? But to Dinkle, this sounds like “living the dream.” Maybe John Thompson will be flown out to Belgium, or get a candy bar named after him, too. Someone who’s not living the dream is Adeela. When H-1B issues prevented her from leveraging her architecture degree, her fellow grad Wally installed her as Montoni’s day manager. This, of course, was merely a ploy to get the services of an architect at slightly above minimum wage. Only a matter of time before Adeels, like Khan before her, decides that life in war-torn Iraquistan beats being a Westview lifer.
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“The girls” are like twenty-five now and should, you know, have jobs and stuff by this point. They obviously (still) have no social lives to speak of so why they need to sleep til noon is anyone’s guess. The whole thing is sort of creepy if you ask me, mostly due to BatJerk’s bizarre “suspended animation”-type character arcs where characters remain in a sort of stasis for years and even decades at a time. He can’t bang out a Sunday “college graduation” strip followed by a two week arc where Summer gets hired as Montoni’s official pizza athletic director (with sidekick) or something? WHS is still short a gym teacher, you know.
Anyhow, get a load of Beardo and his stupid sweatshirt, standing there all smug and mute. I just want to stuff him down a chimney with no care at all then light an enormous fire. What a dick.
Or you could just TELL US what Funky forgot. Geez Louise, this one is glacially-paced even by FW throwaway arc standards. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll turn out to be his tax return and the IRS will arrest him and shutter Montoni’s forever, prompting a town-wide recession and eventual riot in which Les Moore is killed by a vicious mob of unemployed pizza-starved goons. I mean I doubt it, but you gotta have hope. But alas, it’s probably just be something incomprehensibly stupid like it always is.
Long time readers are probably wondering why this state trooper is reenacting the second most memorable thing about “The Electric Company” with Linda instead of hauling off her baked meteorite, as the disposal of dangerous foodstuffs is the historical role of the Ohio State Police in Funky Winkerbean. I’m right there with you, as I honestly don’t know.
Finally, at long last, I can stop typing “Holly’s mom” over and over and over again. It’s one of the unforeseen pitfalls of following this strip, the way Batom forces me to train my muscle memory to repeatedly type otherwise bizarre and useless phrases hundreds of times, like “band mattresses”, “Atomik Komix” and “smug bearded piece of shit”. Anyhow, her name is Melinda. OK then.
When in doubt, drag some mother-in-law gags out. The very last thing FW needs is ANOTHER adorable old coot character but it would appear that this “Melinda” is THIS CLOSE to becoming another FW regular. I will tactfully refrain from pointing out that long-range climate change would probably not have all that much of an impact on a ninety year old woman but hey, FW has NEVER shied away from Topical Issues That Affect Us All, especially somewhat vague references to said Topical Issues. Personally speaking, I’d LOVE to see a four month long arc about Melinda’s house sinking into the Atlantic Ocean but that’s just me.
Beck I hear you calling
But I can’t come home right now,
Me and the band are in shambles,
And Harry ain’t around
Just a few more hours
And he’ll tell me what to do,
I think I hear him cackling,
Oh Beck, what can I do?
Sorry. Sorry about the post title too. Maybe one day we’ll have a big SoSF contest and YOU can try to title these things. Trust me, aside from reading the strip it’s the hardest thing about this. Anyhow, today we see WHS’ incredibly lax security exposed, as John blithely saunters into the school toting some hot chocolate for his right-handed bride Becky without as much as a “visitor” pass to identify himself. Shameful in this day and age. Apparently our armless pal Becky needs to burn the midnight oil and spend endless nights toiling over having her band play some basic Christmas standards for an hour and apparently there’s some sort of cutting edge band software involved as well, software I assume Dinkle invented. I like how she has to identify her own husband by his full name so “casual” FW readers will know they’re married, as how else would they? I bet that if you were to (ugh) go back and check out the entirety of (gak) Act III Becky and John are in maybe ten or fifteen panels together total. Ten or fifteen too many if you ask me.
This has been mentioned in the comments before, but isn’t it, uh…”interesting” how every FW character’s “passion” is always depicted as a thankless miserable chore? Drawing comic books, making pizza, writing maudlin cancer books, playing tennis, teaching music…no one ever actually enjoys these pursuits, they merely endure them. It’s just a thought, but perhaps FW might be more popular if only its worldview wasn’t so perpetually downbeat. But you already knew that.
Yes, Harry. We all vividly recall how you invented the concept of “crowdfunding” with your m**herf*cking door-to-door band f*cking candy fund raising drives. Geez, what a windbag. So apparently using a mouse and a keyboard at the same time is no biggie for ol’ Becks, as she’s gotten the Scapegoats Marching Band in on this whole “social media” fad all the kids are into with the phones and such. Honestly (and I’m just speaking for myself here) if I lived in Westview I’d definitely prefer to order my band candy online than to have Owen or Bernie at my door, that’s for damn sure. I mean life in that town is hard enough given the limited dining and reading options and how it snows non-stop for months at a stretch.
Perhaps Principal Nate and the WHS admin staff might want to consider the possibility that Becky’s shitty job performance could be attributed to Dinkle distracting her with his constant inexplicable presence. Just a thought.
The good news: no comic books!!! The bad news: mail is still playing a pivotal role in the strip.
Let’s take a moment to talk about shitty storytelling. Holly has apparently just opened her invitation to the Big Band Alumni Reunion Event (sigh), which oughta be a real barn-burner by the way. Yet somehow, despite just finding out about it, she knows that a) her mother was also inexplicably invited, b) she wants to attend and c) she wants them to drive to Florida to pick her up. Which opens a whole host of mysteries best left unsolved, which they no doubt will be.
I don’t remember Holly’s mom being a character in the strip at all, which seems to indicate that the “goal” here is a) more “adorable old coot” humor and b) another excuse to trot out Holly’s Act I flaming baton trick persona, neither of which has generated a lot of clamor among FW’s (chortle) fan base as far as I can tell. Anyone who’s had anything whatsoever to do over the last forty years has forgotten all about Holly’s baton silliness and if FW contained any more “adorable old coot” gags it’d come with a year’s supply of Coumadin. Unless this Big Band Alumni Reunion Event (sigh) is just another excuse to have the loathsome Dinkle wobble down Act I Memory Lane yet again, which seems sort of likely given the premise here.
Ewww, yuck. The Delicate Genius is sequestered away in his dreary studio, slaving away on his cancer book prequel or sequel or whatever the f*ck it is, as Cayla waits on him hand and foot because he’s either too cheap or too lazy to buy himself a coffee maker for his garage office. What a dick. Hopefully this is just a one-off Sunday strip and not the start of yet another Dick Facey, The Delicate Genius arc, as I’m just not ready for another one of those yet. Get a load of that look on his face in panel three, all smug and self-satisfied with his wordsmithing, like he’s just too clever for this world. What a dick.