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Funky Winkerbean, 11/22/11

So, for those of you who haven’t been following Funky Winkerbean’s latest doom-ridden plot: Westview residents voted down the school levy, probably because it’s cruel to give children just enough intellectual tools to understand how bleak and meaningless their lives are; why not leave them the bliss of ignorance, since no other kind of bliss is available? Anyway, as a result, all the sports programs were shut down … but now Funky has a plan to sneakily get the local businesses and townsfolk to tax themselves to pay for the programs, via gambling. Surely this ad hoc town-wide raffle will rather quickly evolve into a massive casino with slots and table games, all presided over by Funky, Westview’s chief capitalist. But don’t worry about him gloating too much over his good fortune! He promises to look as detached and benumbed as he rakes in the ill-gotten cash as he does in panel three, where he coldly snuffs out any hint of enthusiasm that might enter his field of vision.

Marvin, 11/22/11

“Ha ha! No, but seriously, I’m an artist and I don’t have any money to buy food. I like to come down to the mall because I can steal Horsey Sauce packets from the Arby’s in the food court!”

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/17/11

Ha ha, it’s not a real Rex Morgan plot until a formerly sympathetic character suddenly proves to be unsympathetic for no good reason! Principal Hallman has angered Summer by insisting that her daughter is a dirty little liar who goes to parties with bad boys (he is 100 percent correct about this), which leads her to bring out the heavy artillery: namely, that she knows he’s totally lying about being an Iraq War vet! Back when he first busted out his phony baloney combat story, Summer looked all sympathetic, because she thought she might want to do him; now that’s off the table, so it’s time for her to humiliate him. “It’s true!” he’ll sob. “I just found this sweet Army hat in the break room at school and started wearing it around, and then people stared asking questions, and, well, things just got out of control! I never meant for it to go this far!”

Dick Tracy, 11/17/11

Holy crap, square-jawed super-Aryan Dick Tracy spending the Festival of Lights with the Catchem clan is the greatest Hanukkah present anyone could possibly give me! I look forward to Sam lighting the menorah with his cigarette as he tells the story of the Maccabean Revolt, after which Dick will vow to hunt down Antiochus Epiphanes and pump him full of lead.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/17/11

“Especially not our pizza! It tastes like cardboard and greasy, greasy tears!”

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Mark Trail, 11/3/11

As if we needed more evidence, today we see who’s really in charge here in McQueen Valley. Supposed lawman Mountie McQueen gets all twitchy and gun-happy at the slightest hint of trouble. Mother McQueen, however, just casually and subtly lets everyone know who’s in charge and who could be savagely ripped to shreds by a bear at any moment. “Yes, I rescued this beast as a cub from a pack of bloodthirsty predators, and now it is devoted to me, and only me. Does his presence make you … uncomfortable? Here, let me tie this flimsy muzzle around his snout. I can take it off just as easily as I put it on! And of course his claws remain at the ready. Now, was one of you saying something about leaving this valley or attempting to contact the outside world?”

Crankshaft, 11/3/11

It used to be that you could say, “Crankshaft may be a miserable, hateful human being who will soon die alone and unloved, as he deserves, and occasionally we’re forced to contemplate the ugly and pathetic libidinous impulses that lurk below his crusty, misanthropic surface, but at least we’re never forced to contemplate the volume and texture of his bowel movements.” Used to be.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/3/11

Meanwhile, a couple of depressives playing video games in a comic book store are trying to compare themselves to badasses who practiced dark magic.