Archive: Funky Winkerbean

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Hey kids, it’s comics education time! You’ve probably seen me refer to “throwaway panels” when I tackle some of the Sunday strips, and it may be that you don’t know what this means! Essentially, most Sunday strips are shipped to newspapers with an extra row of panels at the top, which some (many, in these days of shrinking budgets) papers cut off so that they can fit more comics into a limited space; as a result, the strip as a whole must be able to stand without these panels. There are varying strategies for dealing with the narrative problem thus raised.

Panels from Dennis the Menace, 6/14/09

For instance, some strips use them to present little mini-episodes that stand somewhat apart from the main action. A good example is today’s Dennis the Menace, where we learn that Mr. Wilson would like nothing better than to spray his irritating neighbor with deadly poison.

Panels from Curtis, 6/14/09

Another is today’s Curtis, where we discover that Gunther is sweeping the floor to his barbershop! Ha ha! That Gunther! What won’t he do?

Mary Worth, 6/14/09

Sometimes the throwaway panels change the focus of the strip. For instance, without the top row of panels in today’s Mary Worth, we’d probably manage to ignore those pinkish briquettes that Mary and Toby are gobbling up by the fistful. But with those panels in place, we’re forced to confront the fact that they’re genuine Mary Worth-prepared “salmon squares,” and must kill a little bit of our souls trying to figure out what, exactly, a “salmon square” might be. Has Mary taken moist, delicious, tender salmon and mercilessly baked it until it’s a series of hard, crispy pucks that are easy to pick up without getting your hands oily, and that taste like ashes in your mouth? Is the salmon inside some kind of pink pastry shell, resulting in an awful salmon-flavored Pop-Tart? Was this so-called “new recipe” written on parchment in human blood in the bowels of hell by Satan himself? Probably!

Marvin, 6/14/09

Then there are throwaway panels that alter the entire thrust of the strip. For instance, without the top row of panels, this strip could be summarized as “babies love cookies, and grandmas love giving cookies to babies”; but with them, the message is more “babies and dogs are an awful lot alike.”

Mark Trail, 6/14/09

And sometimes the throaway panels can accommodate differing levels of ambient prudishness across various media markets. Would a drawing of a comely lass in a bikini result in angry letters from comics readers in your paper’s distribution area? Just remove the top row et voilà! You’ll still get a helpful text wall on avoiding rip currents, and a terrifying close up of our naive swimmer dying in terror. That seagull in the final panel doesn’t seem to be helping matters; in fact, I’m guessing that he will soon be dive-bombing our hapless swimmer, so that she’ll drown more quickly and fatten up the fishes that he’ll eat later. Nature is cruel!

Funky Winkerbean, 6/14/09

Unrelated to throwaway panels, but related to dying in terror: does this strip finally settle the “What happened to Wally” question? This being Funky Winkerbean, we should have guessed that he died, probably in terror.

I was going to make a crack about how Becky conveniently arranged the parade to conclude at the cemetery where Wally’s grave was, but in all likelihood in the world of Funky Winkerbean it’s impossible to plan a parade — indeed, it’s impossible to plan a trip of any significant distance — that doesn’t end up at a graveyard.

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Funky Winkerbean, 6/11/09

You know, as this week goes on, I’m really starting to feel a sort of admiration for Funky Winkerbean for really distilling its core mood of grim whimsy (or “grimsy,” as I like to think of it) into as pure and concentrated a form as possible. Let’s do a quick review of each day’s themes:

  • Monday: “I miss my dead wife so much. Sometimes I fantasize that she’s still here, talking to me, in the places that were meaningful to us while she was alive.”
  • Tuesday: “I used to think that I could choose my destiny, but as I age, I realize that the events that most shape my life are those that I cannot control or anticipate.”
  • Wednesday: “My wife died.” “My father is dying.”
  • Thursday: “My body is falling apart.”

In fact, it’s gotten so intense that it’s spread (“metastasized,” some might say”) to other comic strips!

Wizard of Id, 6/11/09

Life is one vast prison cell, my friends! Those who are actually in jail at least have the advantage of knowing that they are in chains. The rest of us stumble through this existence, shackled by ennui, feeling that there must be something more than this but unable to imagine what that might be — and the only release from this prison is death.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 6/11/09

Of course, we all know that whining ponderously about one’s mortality is a luxury of the comfortable elites. Those hard-working real Americans in Hootin’ Holler don’t got time for none of that! Here we see that local coot “Grandpaw” just uses the looming specter of death as an incentive for thrift.

Herb and Jamaal, 6/11/09

But it’s Herb and Jamaal that really shows us the way to cheeriness. “I may be getting old, but I don’t feel old, and do you know why? Because I’m young enough to keep doing it! That’s right, you don’t have time to dwell on the aging process when you’re gettin’ it regular. Truly, a steady stream of casual sexual partners is a veritable fountain of youth!”

(Seriously, can anyone tell me what the punchline of this strip is actually supposed to mean? Because, much as I would approve, I don’t think “doing it” means “doing it.”)

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Blondie, 6/10/09

We all know that Dithers Enterprises is a terrifying corporate police state, but I find today’s installment of Panopticon Follies to be a little much. What’s most disturbing is the punchline, which revolves not around the fact that Dagwood is being tracked like a dangerous criminal or an experimental animal, but that he spent the bulk of his work day desperately trying to wriggle out of his ankle bracelet rather than slaving away on whatever slave-labor tasks Dithers has set for him. The only way it could be more unsettling would be if Blondie offered him a foot-long sandwich and he pointed to his bloody ankle-stump and said “No need, honey! I ate at the office!”

Funky Winkerbean, 6/10/09

The best part about this Funky Winkerbean is that it’s only Wednesday, so we’re only halfway through what’s presumably a week-long run of “How grim can it get up here on the roof?” Hopefully Saturday will consist of two silent panels of the empty lawn chairs, then a bird’s eye view of the two tiny figures on the asphalt below, limbs twisted and necks snapped.

Mary Worth, 6/10/09

Here’s a fun little game: try to imagine which sex act Ian and Toby refer to as “riding the waves.” Now try to unimagine it. Ha ha! Bet you can’t!