Wally – Page 31 – Son of Stuck Funky

Mind over Manor

Wait a sec, does this mean that yesterday’s exchange wasn’t just a pointless nostalgia trip for Wally and Dinkle? Oh no, it totally was, but in today’s strip we learn there is a purpose to their likely use of a week’s worth TB’s valuable printed panels, Dinkle has formed a little band at Bedside Manor.

For those that do not remember, Bedside Manor is Westview’s local assisted-living facility, the residence of Funky’s father, and possibly the deathbed of Act III-era Crankshaft. Whether this band deal came about because Dinkle started hanging around Bedside Manor spouting band directing advice after Lefty finally changed the locks or because some of the nursing home staff saw him talking to his wife one day and reasonably assumed Dinkle was an AWOL resident will likely be left to our imaginations. We may, however, find out how little Dinkle’s band is. Small enough to fit in the band box, perhaps?

Trombone Sortie

No.
No No No No No No No No No No No.
Not Dinkle. Please, not a whole week of Dinkle. Please.

So, with the bargaining stage of grief out of the way, today’s strip forehead exhibition involves Westview’s community band practice. Do you remember that Wally was in the community band? Do you remember that Dinkle conducts the community band?
You’re lying.

Interestingly, the circa-1994 music booklet that Wally found at home (inside the boxes Lefty presumably tossed on his porch one day) was put out by legendary New Jersey cover group ThatBand.

Do They? Do They Really?

Today’s strip portrays the exchange of “I dos” at Montoni’s, because of course they ended up at Montoni’s, the only reliable social venue in the wretched town of Westview.

I promised you a non-sequitur, and Funky delivers it. His bad Winkerbean vibes having dissipated, and with a smirk that shifts his mouth half way to his left temple, Funky opines: “They don’t call Montoni’s ‘the wedding chapel of love’ for nothing!”

Never mind that he just subverted Wally’s wedding to do a promo for his business. They don’t call Montoni’s “the wedding chapel of love” at all. Also, how does that not dislocate his jaw?

Meanwhile, the weeping chef in the background is playing the old “I’m crushing your head” game.

Meanwhile, some random boy has been hanging around with Funky during the entire sequence.

Who is this kid? It hardly matters, as I expect Batominc will send him to the Corn Field of Discarded Characters, just like all these others that Epicus Doomus so kindly enumerated for us recently:

Frankie, Lennie, the gay prom dudes, Art Teacher, Jarod Posey, Dr. Patella, Radio Ron, Closeted Gay Prom Rock, Mallory the Perfect Human Genome, Rachel’s kid, Kili the cat and that annoying Dan guy, Cell Phone Girl, that tall blonde girl that was always on whatever team Summer was playing against, Travel Agency Woman, Plantman…

CRAAAACK heads

With a mighty CRAAAACK!, the Universe lets the assembled witnesses know exactly what Its objections are to this union—hey! Wait a minute!

All the guests are gone, delivering the inexplicable continuity failure I promised you. The director forgot to have the congregation congregate for the big lightning scene. Because it doesn’t make a lick of sense for the two principals and the officiant to hang out in the rain alone. No human beings would do that. I guess the Batominc Quarter-Inch Reality Generator Mark 4 is on the fritz again, because it really shanked the plot on this daily basis.

The Blonde Rachel Character Unit fails to see “any reason to leave now.” Yeah, well, I’ve got about a dozen, not counting the inclement weather, and—dollars to doughnuts, cancer to Alzheimer’s—they’re huddling at Montoni’s, wondering where the hell these clownbots are.

You’ll see.

Bumbershoots in testudo

Let’s continue the litany, shall we?

with ten guests, or only seven;
with illness chronic or acute;
with thick crust or with thin;
with corners poppèd or unpopp’d;
if you will or if you won’t;
if you do or if you don’t;
da, da, da
ich lieb’ dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht,
aha
ich lieb’ dich nicht, du liebst mich nicht,
da, da, da

Looks like some of the guests have already bailed on this event, and I don’t find that ironic. Not at all.