Funky Winkerbean, 4/10/14
If, like me, you’ve reached the Stockholm Syndrome stage of your Funky Winkerbean readership, you’ve no doubt come up with some little strategies to derive enjoyment from the unrelenting murk of gloom. What gets me through several panels a day is the knowledge that said gloom may be unrelenting, but is not without texture; we still have the opportunity to discover how exactly the characters will have their dreams crushed and their spirits broken. When it comes to Jessica, whose new motherhood is impelling her to complete her quest to document the father she never knew, her trajectory of sadness is now clear: she will slowly learn, over the course of her project, that her father was an asshole and nobody liked him.
(This is as good a context as any to note that the inimitable Chris Sims’ March Funkywatch is available for your enjoyment!)
I’m less concerned about the protection of Heathcliff’s secret identity (why did he even wear his superhero outfit to the vet in the first place?) than in his ongoing and rapid menace decay. Specifically, it bothers me that he’s wearing what’s obviously a Batman costume but the yellow disc on his chest conspicuously lacks the bat-symbol. Is Heathcliff worried about trademark violations? Is he suddenly all about respecting the intellectual property rights of DC Comics, Inc.? Is he afraid of Warner Bros. Entertainment’s lawyers? Pathetic.
“I tried to explain to her that ever since we stumbled onto that witch’s coven and our eyes were blinded and turned eerie, milky white by the burst of dark magical energy they cast at us, our other senses have become much more acute, plus we have the power to read minds! But she didn’t even listen to me, though I have a hard time distinguishing between thought-speech and voice-speech anymore, so perhaps I wasn’t actually speaking aloud to her.”
Reggie is somewhat oversexed and not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I find it unrealistic that he’d be so desperate for romantic attention as to be an easy mark for Jughead’s scam. Still, if this is the setup we need for him to disappear screaming into a swirling, furry vortex of hungry hungry cats, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief.
Apartment 3-G, 3/28/14
God bless Lu Ann Powers and her willingness to embrace the utter ontological uncertainty of existence that most of us desperately try to keep at bay at all times. Are there towns up the Hudson from New York that sometimes exist, but then sometimes don’t? Maybe! It’s a crazy world! Object permanence is an illusion our minds create so the constant quantum flux of our universe doesn’t drive us insane! Will somebody find a “home” for a baby deer, even though nobody keeps deer as pets, because they’re wild animals who live in the woods? It could happen! She’s a very pretty deer! Or at least she seems so to me! We cannot trust the evidence of our senses!
Dennis the Menace, 3/28/14
Oh, come now, Dennis, don’t be coy! God revels in tales of carnage! Have you read the Old Testament? It’s all smiting this and plagues that and turning temples of rival gods into mass graves/public toilets. Tell him everything and spare no details!
Family Circus, 3/28/14
That’s some pretty sassy talk from an eight-year-old wearing a dress shirt and tie under a powder blue sweater, Billy.
Gil Thorp, 3/28/14
Well, it looks like we’ve hit our Spring Storyline Meet-Cute, where Lucky Haskins and Amy Lange will find true love if they don’t accidentally stab each other in the throat first. Also, did you know that wealthy people with very specific fetishes — languorous noodle-slurping, say — will pay good money to artists to “hide” images they find erotic in plain sight in newspapers across America? I brought that fact up for no particular reason.
don’t think about Marvin doing “number three” don’t think about Marvin doing “number three” DON’T THINK ABOUT MARVIN DOING “NUMBER THREE”
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Comic Sans: Origins
I always knew it went something like this. The grinning, disfigured jester, seducing his unsuspecting queen into forcing her court monks to create a new font, an abomination whose every blasphemous curve traces the foul arc of Baphomet’s own horn. The trembling monk, sighing “Yes, Majesty” as he struggles to ignore far-off laughter and the whiff of sulfur rising from his quill where it scratches the parchment.
The original joke, “I don’t need to outrun him, I just need to outrun you” is at least as old as the human race, which, if you read Genesis 1:31 literally, is just six days less than the age of the universe. The implication is that if dinosaurs existed at all, they must have coexisted with humans — though not for long, if that determined-looking velociraptor has anything to say about it.
Wow, Marvin’s callous abuse of his family is even more repulsive viewed through the lens of post-Edwardian British class structures. And you can bet Team Marvin is right now putting the finishing touches on their next miniseries, Slavemaster Marvin: a Tale of the Old South.
Pluggers are beyond shame, and no longer even try to hide their depravity. Please, if you know the first thirteen Plugger Theories, in the name of everything holy keep them to yourself.
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P.S. Comments of the Week will appear Monday, when Josh gets back.
– Uncle Lumpy