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Funky Winkerbean, 1/14/12

So I’ve been pretty much ignoring this week’s Funky Winkerbean, which has been all about the crisis caused by the removal of the vending machines from the school, because, enh, vending machines. Really the only thing of interest so far has been the fact that everyone insists on calling the machines “vendos”, which ranks up with “solo car date” on the list of Formulations In Funky Winkerbean That Are Linguistically Probable But Nonetheless Never Uttered By Living English-Speaking Humans.

BUT! Today we learn that all the angst about this move is not just because everyone loves delicious vending machine food. No, it’s because, like all death-haunted citizens of the Funkyverse, the teachers and students at Westview wish that death would stop haunting them and just show up and take them away from their suffering once and for all. Too terrified to hurl themselves from a bridge or put a shotgun in their mouths or even take up smoking, they at least hope that each day is the day that a bag of sodium-laden chips triggers a massive stroke, after which would come blessed emptiness. But even rides on the carousel of death are now denied to them by their cruel creator.

Momma, 1/14/12

Ha ha, it’s funny because Momma is an unlettered philistine! Or maybe she got a Kindle? Gah, who can tell, with this art.

Family Circus, 1/14/12

Now that the Keane Kids, previously Yahweh’s most loyal servants, have switched their allegiances, I guess it’s time for Him to hand over the rulership of creation to our new God, the iPhone.

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Gil Thorp, 11/21/11

Gil may be an incredibly crappy coach, but he’s no dummy! With his team coasting towards a winless season and the booster club in open revolt, he’s got one last chance to save his job, and he’s playing it for all it’s worth. “Sure, we may end the season with the worst record in decades, but we did help one kid with Asperger’s come out of his shell a bit and make friends. And isn’t that more important than some dumb old football game? Who’s gonna be the jerk to say that, huh? Yeah, thought so. See ya next year, when with any luck we’ll go 2-8!”

Apartment 3-G, 11/21/11

“Someone is crying her eyes out in there. It must be Lu Ann! Tommie has used advanced meditation techniques to ensure that she’s incapable of feeling anything stronger than ennui or mild anxiety, and if Margo were moved to tears, her sobs would be drowned out by the pleas for mercy from her hapless victims.”

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/21/11

Parson Tuttle is of course a notorious fraud without even the rudiments of a theological education, but based on that look of shock in panel two it appears that Parson Dickens isn’t, which will spell trouble for Hootin’ Holler’s beloved clergyman/grifter. “Tarnation, he’s callin’ a vacation a ‘sabbatical’? That’s sullyin’ the name of th’ sabbath — a violation of the fourth commandment! Welp, better gather th’ townsfolk for a good old-fashioned stonin’.”

Momma, 11/21/11

This strip would have been funnier (note that I didn’t say “funny”) if it had hinged on the contrast between Francis’ archaic CRT set and the flat-screen TVs that have pretty much been the only new televisions sold for the better part of a decade. But apparently that would require someone involved in the production of Momma to know that high-tech items like flat-screen TVs exist.

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Six Chix, 10/25/11

Aw, I like the mildly desperate grin that the skeleton is sporting in that costume shop window. “Ladies! Zombies are just as done as vampires! Skeletons are the new hotness! We’re shambling and terrifying and undead just like zombies, but without all that distasteful rotting flesh! Remember the Jason and the Argonauts movie, where he sword-fights with skeletons? Remember how bad-ass that was? SKELETONS! I … no, please, come into the shop … buy some of our skeleton paraphernalia … oh, God, I’m so lonely …”

Gil Thorp, 10/25/11

I’m really truly excited about Gil Thorp tackling the sensitive subject of Asperger’s Syndrome and totally botching it, but for right now I’d like to focus on good ol’ Wildcat, presiding over what appears to be a Milford Booster Club dinner party. Notice that everyone else is casual clothes, while Wildcat is gussied up in a white tuxedo, bow tie slightly askew. Is he coming home from his day job as a croupier? Or will “raising the formality of Milford Booster Club meetings” be his next crusade, right after he finds the Mudlarks a new kicker (precise location on the autistic spectrum unimportant)?

Momma, 10/25/11

Poor spelling is of course something we should be rightfully condemn, but we should at least give these pint-size taggers props for putting up graffiti with a philosophical message, no matter how nihilistic. Most vandalism seeks merely to aggrandize the vandal, or to mark out the territory of various criminal syndicates; these young men have instead proclaimed their bleak worldview to the city. Kudos!

Apartment 3-G, 10/25/11

“Thank goodness, everyone has stopped expecting any sort of achievement out of me. That’s a relief! Guess I’ll slip back into invisibility and quiet desperation once again. Really, it’s what I do best!”