Unprecedented doom and gloom
Funky Winkerbean, 4/1/11
Ha ha, let’s all laugh at some privileged, sheltered high school student passing out after she had her nose rubbed in the grim reality of future life in Funkyworld. She was probably taken off guard because the promised horror was economic in nature rather than medical. I take issue with her teacher’s unqualified statement about these doomed post-Millennials or Gen Z-ers or whatever we’re calling them being “the first generation” to suffer an economic decline: I think Americans who came of age in, say, the 1930s might have something to say about that, or their grandparents who went through the now largely forgotten dramatic boom-bust cycles of economic panics that marked the second half of the 19th century. And then there are all the generations in earlier eras of history, who lived through actual civilizations collapsing completely! But, to be fair, if any more explanatory dialogue, like the phrase “since World War II,” had been added to that enormous word balloon in the second panel, there wouldn’t be any room for the drawings.
Momma, don’t you read Funky Winkerbean? Francis is unemployed, unkempt, and sleeping in a pile of his own filth — this is the new mainstream of American life!
Mary Worth, 4/1/11
If you thought that the “Dawn is a desperate Internet junkie” plot was unrealistic, wait until we get into the “Dr. Drew is irresistible to women!” plot. The Dawn plot did end rather abruptly (by this strip’s standards — why, the static, boring rehash of how her problem was solved took less than a week!) and so I have to imagine that these two narrative strands will ultimately come together, hopefully in a manner that will once again result in Dawn smacking the crap out of the libidinous younger Corey.
Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/1/11
Our storyline’s villains, Flattop and the Mustache, are attempting to take an easily influenced Dex under their wing and reap his rightful share of the lottery winnings. Unfortunately for them, they don’t understand just how easily influenced he is. At the moment when he’s most in need of guidance, his eyes will settle on the waitress’s “Ask me about our pie” button and, like a baby duck imprinting on its mother, will decide that she has all the answers — about pie, and everything else. She’ll end up representing him in court, and her closing arguments will entirely consist of a description of the available desserts. The jury will award Dex the entire amount of the winnings, plus millions in damages, plus, just for good measure, free pie for life.