Today’s strip is squick
Squick of the highest order
Gross in every way
“The Cosmic Treadmill”
“Yeah… that and in the shower”
These are words to fear
Why is Mindy here?
Is she unemployed or what?
A real catch there, Pete
Not that Pete is much
To write home about, Mindy
Well… he is a creep
Is Mindy working?
Why did I even ask this?
Just Funky works, duh
This strip makes me both
Want to take a shower and
Not, at the same time
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
Yesterday’s discussion of exactly just how Rip Tide: Scuba Cop goes about scuba cop-ing understandably exhausted our tedious twosome, and they take a well-earned coffee break in today’s strip.
I suppose that now that they are living the life of 1950s-ish Batom Comics writers, Pete and Durwood no longer need to daydream about being 1950s-ish Batom Comics writers. Naturally, they have channeled most of their energy into finding new ways to procrastinate… though shuffling down to the struggling coffeeshop on the corner earns them no points for creativity.
Nevertheless, today’s strip is not without educational value. I, for one, learned that the key difference between Los Angeles and Northern Ohio is that no one has dreams or ambition in Northern Ohio.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
Hello SoSFers, billytheskink back for another two weeks steering this runaway bus. Lucky me, today’s strip shifts back to Pete, Durwood, and their adventures at the City of Cleveland’s newest employer. Now that Chester has acquired the remnants of Mort Winkerbean’s life savings, I guess Atomik Komix’s bankruptcy has been postponed… and that, sadly, means we have to peek at the Batty Atom Bullpen’s “creative” process.
Durwood is the star of this one for sure, offering one of the few reasonable explanations for the existence of the last decade of Funky Winkerbean. On the other hand, Pete is being Pete… that is to say, useless.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
Today’s strip has been upended, leaving only a narrow width within which to frame Pete and his pretty prey. Was Googling Pete part of Mindy’s premier prep duties? In particular, researching his arrest record? Though his record is likely clean, ’round here we all know Pete’s shady history, including changing his surname as well as his proclivity for flrting with high school girls.
My less-than-encyclopedic knowledge of the “Crankiverse,” and the decade-wide time gap existing between Centerview and Westville, make it impossible to discern Cind—dammit!—Mindy’s true age, but we’ll slot her in that same vague twentythirtysomthing range along with Pete, Darin, and Jess. One thing these two both have in common: they both refer to the famous search engine as “Grandpa Google“, making them two of the only three people on earth to refer to Google in this manner.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.”
― Saul Bellow
Nope, but you do have to be able to read what you wrote the morning after. You’ll remember Les as the guy who a week (and ten years) ago showed up in Crankshaft to pooh-pooh the creative techniques of his fellow writers at a book festival. Please tell me how jotting down ideas that come to you in your sleep differs at all from “I go to sleep and allow my dreams to write my book for me.”
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
The winner of our 7th Anniversary contest is Epicus Doomus, who gets a mug from the official Funky Winkerbean CafePress store. Thanks to everyone who participated!
We frequently take Mr. Batiuk to task for his “tell, don’t show” proclivities, but we’ll gladly give him a pass today for having fast-forwarded through Les and Cayla making whoopee. That is, if any whoopee was made: we find the Moores not blissfully spooning, but rather with their backs to one another (the accepted sleeping posture for couples in the Funkiverse). Les has started awake, and though he’s made no sound, Cayla’s aware of this. She’s either a very light sleeper or has been lying there fuming since Les conked out.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
Cayla’s definitely put something in Les’ hot cocoa, but instead of lethal poison (our choice), mayhap she’s slipped in a little sumpin’ sumpin’ that will put some lead in Les’ stubby little pencil. Have we ever seen Les be the one to initiate a romantic encounter, with Cayla or any of the women who’ve fought over his writer ass? At least this time Cayla doesn’t have to take Les by the hand and drag him up the stairs.
Filed under Son of Stuck Funky
