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Funky Winkerbean, 10/16/17

Ah, it’s Monday, and what new gloom is settling on the Funkyverse? Well, somebody in a generic office building has been working to track down Darrin Fairgood, somebody with a flat-top haircut and dour demeanor that implies law enforcement of some sort. Or maybe this is tied into the plotline about Darrin’s stalker-y bio-dad that never seemed to come to anything? Anyway, I love that these guys are acting like they just cracked a major cold case by looking up a guy’s IMDB page, as I’m sure it presages hilarity ahead!

Mary Worth, 10/16/17

The problem: Wilbur so hates and fears his own body that he’s unable to even dance properly. The solution: radical exposure therapy, implemented by taking him to the beach, putting him in a speedo, and showing him that nothing bad will happen as he and his beloved frolic together in the ocean for all the world to see. And it’s working! Look at the grin! Feel that joy! His glasses are about to get knocked off his face by the next big wave, but even that won’t be able to kill his mood!

Meanwhile, back in Santa Royale, Mary is sitting in the dark, to make sure she doesn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of her foul, sinful flesh.

Marvin, 10/16/17

Hey, just a reminder that Marvin’s house is wholly permeated by the smell of feces, to the extent that the family dog feels morally superior because he goes out in the yard to take a dump!

Dennis the Menace, 10/16/17

A good way to make us all feel really menaced is to remind us that we’re three or so generations into a long-running experiment to see what happens in a society where most people start getting antsy any time they’re not looking at a screen of some sort, and that experiment is not going well.

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Mary Worth, 10/15/17

Today’s Mary Worth is mostly a hilarious rehash of a hilarious week for the Sunday crowd, but there is one new bit of information: in the first panel in the third row, Wilbur reveals that he’s so anxious and anhedonic that he needs to be intoxicated just to experience the basic levels of enjoyment that most humans normally feel when listening to music. See, we’ve all been marveling at the improbable pairing of Wilbur and Fabiana, but unlike all of you shallow people, she’s managed to look past his dweebish exterior to really understand and appreciate his thoroughly unappealing personality.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/15/17

Not so fast, kid: the real monster here is the masses’ ignorance of the finer points of 1950s horror comics artistry, a shameful deficit in our education system that allows online forgers to flourish. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/14/17

Ugh, fine, we get it, we frickin’ get it, the both of you are upstanding and moral and would never even be able to get your incredibly righteous minds around the very idea of defrauding people for money. It’s baffling to you that anyone would possibly do this. Well, maybe I have someone who can explain the idea to you: BAD-ASS ART FORGER GUY!!!!

IT’S LIKE THIS, SQUARES:

AUTHENTICITY IS A BOURGEOIS AFFECTATION

IF YOU ENJOY THE WAY A PIECE OF ART LOOKS, WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU WHO CREATED IT?

YOU’RE FOOLING YOURSELF IF YOU THINK YOU CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE “REAL” ART AND MY MASTERFUL REPRODUCTION

I’M HURTING NOBODY AND MAKING MAD BANK, SO SUCK IT HATERS

Anyway, several of you have suggested that our scam artist is actually Rene, who we last saw as Sarah’s art teacher/a master forger in the employ of the mob, who fled his mafioso compatriots and shaved his head and got new sunglasses. It’s totally possible! Though Rene always seemed like the nervous type? Not a true stud with ice water flowing through his veins like our villain here.

Shoe, 10/14/17

Ha ha, it’s funny because the strip prompts intrusive thoughts of this late-middle-aged bird-man contorting his creaky body so he can have acrobatic sex with his yoga instructor girlfriend, who is presumably also an anthropomorphic bird, and who we’re probably meant to envision as significantly younger than him! Oh, wait, you don’t have an awful hell-brain like mine? You say the comic didn’t prompt those images, which only arose when I suggested them? Well, too bad! Enjoy your weekend!

[leaves for a minute, but then comes back, to whisper a single word]: cloaca