Sure, Crankshaft’s relentless punning is irritating, but I think his forced little joke here has some solace for Keisterman. It’s true that his body is failing and that there’s nothing he can really do to permanently ease the pain of his bum shoulder; but at least he can take solace in the fact that his shoulder won’t literally die before he does, that he won’t be forced to go through his last years toting around a mass of necrotizing flesh and bone. This is the Funkyverse, Keisterman: The pain means you’re alive.
We interrupt this fiesta of filth to point out the unsettling fuzzy green figure in panel five, whom I assume to be beloved Sesame Street muppet and trash-can dweller Oscar the Grouch. As a quick Google Image Search will show you, even on the rare occasions when we see Oscar’s feet, they’re protruding from the bottom of his aluminum home. I’ve always assumed that he was like a hermit crab, with a borrowed exoskeleton necessary for survival during the adult phase of the life-cycle of his species, and so seeing him naked and unprotected like this is extremely disturbing to me.