R.I.P. Funky

When Funky Winkerbean premiered back on March 27, 1972, it was a mildly amusing "joke a day" comic strip about a high school kid and his cast of wacky friends.

After twenty years or so of that, Funky writer & artist Tom Batiuk apparently became bored with the whole high school schtick, so he aged to adulthood through the magic of a time jump. More importantly, he also removed pretty much all the comedic elements, turning the strip into a serialized, dramatic soap opera.

Titular character Funky an alcoholic. His friend Becky, a gifted piano prodigy, lost her arm in a drunk driving accident. His other friend Lisa developed breast cancer, and after a years-long struggle with her illness was actually killed off. There were also storylines about suicide, gun violence and the horrors of war. Fun! I mean, grim and depressing.

In 2007 Batiuk introduced yet another time jump, which put the characters in their mid forties and gave them a host of new problems.

Then around fifteen years ago Batiuk decided he needed a vacation from his bleak and dismal strip, so he called on comic book artist John Byrne of all people, to handle art duties for a couple months. Byrne had had well-known and successful runs on Marvel books such as the X-Men, Fantastic Four and She-Hulk.

He was an odd choice, as he has a realistic and very distinct style, with a habit of drawing characters with lopsided smirks on their faces— like they just suffered a stroke. I remember looking at the strip during that period and wondering, "Why does the art suddenly look like John Byrne drew it?" Welp, because he did!

Don't worry, this'll become relevant in a minute. I promise!

Now after a whopping FIFTY years, Batiuk's decided to throw in the towel and retire, officially ending the Funky Winkerbean strip on December 31, 2022.

The second I heard the news, my mind reeled as I began speculating on just how grim and miserable the end of this cruel and dreary strip would be.

Would Les Moore become depressed over his wife Lisa's death and end his own life? Would Becky dump her husband John and hook up with her old flame Wally? Would the town of Westview (where the strip takes place) be destroyed in a shocking terrorist attack? Would Funky suffer a relapse and begin drinking again? Or would he descend into dementia-fueled madness and spend the rest of his life in a nursing home?

Nope! Nothing remotely like any of that. In fact the ending was weirder and far more bizarre than anyone could have possibly anticipated! 

The final week of the strip begins with yet ANOTHER time jump, this time into a distant future— complete with floating furniture, holographic tablets and flying cars. No, really!

We're introduced to an unnamed mother and child, who are apparently the descendants of Summer Moore— daughter of long-running characters Les and Lisa. The two venture to the outskirts of whatever megalopolis they inhabit, to visit the last bookstore in existence. They're there to pick up a "tree copy" (groan) of a book for the daughter.

Note that Mom points out that they're there to pick up a copy of the book that the kid's "Famous Nanna Summer" wrote.

Who the hell talks like that? Why point out to the kid that her granny Summer was a famous author— a fact that she'd obviously already know?

Also, considering this strip's harsh and dour tone, it wouldn't surprise me if this mother and daughter are living in an oppressive, post apocalyptic hellscape— one that's ruled with a literal iron hand by robot overseers.

Batiuk then does a little self advertising, as they also stumble across the book Les wrote about his wife Lisa's struggle with breast cancer. Which is a real collection of Funky Winkerbean strips, available wherever fine books are sold. The real world cover even looks like this one!

By the way, why does the kid tell the mom to ask the robot clerk if it's for sale? Is she a botist, and refuses to speak to artificial life forms?

Even if I didn't already know John Byrne drew this strip, I'd have instantly recognized his style. Solely by the robot alone. Byrne loves drawing robots with egg shaped heads and large, insectoid eyes— just like this one.

I love that the droid couldn't possibly care less about the kid's comments here, offering up a preprogrammed noncommittal response.

The strip— and the series— then ends with this unnamed kid becoming totally engrossed in these two old fashioned, hopelessly obsolete tree copies detailing the lives and loves of her ancestors.

Um... the end, I guess?

As I said earlier, how utterly bizarre that this strip ends its fifty year run with these two complete unknowns, rather than featuring a heartfelt and sentimental goodbye to its long-running and beloved characters.

I get it— Batiuk's trying to show the audience that even though their favorite characters are gone, their legacy will live on far into the future. But sure there was a better way to go about it than this. We don't even see the titular character at all in the final week of his own strip!

Why Do They Call Them Comics: Snuffy Smith

The American Educational System at work, ladies and gentlemen!

Only in America could a school give a student a failing grade four hundred times and still remain open for business, as the unconcerned teaching staff actually chuckles at the students' lack of learning skills.

As is the norm when it comes to Snuffy Smith (or "Smif," as the other characters call him), there's nothing particularly amusing about this strip. I included it because of the way it's laid out. 

Note the way the text in the first and last word balloons don't fill up the available space— there's room for another whole line.

That's a sure sign you're looking at a recycled strip. There's no doubt in my mind that this particular comic has appeared in the newspaper at least once before. Current artist/writer John Rose simply took an old strip, removed the text, wrote some new lines and BAM! Instant "new" strip! Who cares if the new dialogue doesn't fill up the old word balloons? He had a deadline to meet!

Oh, merciful Jesus! When Loweezy seductively told Snuffy they had the house all to themselves, for a horrifying moment I thought we were going to forced to witness these two grotesque, pasty hillbilly homonculi writhing around the floor in carnal ecstasy. 

Our nation dodged a bullet tonight, ladies and gentlemen.

Calvin & Schmobbes

 

You probably already know that Bill Watterson, creator of Calvin & Hobbes and professional recluse, famously dashed the hopes and dreams of his fans by refusing to license any merchandise based on his beloved strip. Something about "artistic integrity" or some such nonsense, and letting the work speak for itself. Feh!

I could see not wanting stores packed with Calvin & Hobbes lip gloss or fishing rods. But would it have killed him to have released a lousy plush Hobbes for the kids? 

I was strolling through Target last night and saw this. It struck me as a pretty reasonable facsimile of a stuffed Hobbes toy. It's not exact, but it's close enough that a kid wouldn't know it's not an officially licensed piece of merch. And it's only $10. Excuse me, $9.99 plus tax.

Take that, Watterson, you anti-capitalist commie! When you refuse the public a product they demand, you just encourage piracy. You've got no one to blame but yourself for the metric ton of "Peeing Calvin" window stickers that adorn the pickup trucks of our Republic.

Oh Funky, You've Done It Again!

Glanced at the newspaper today and saw this in the "comics" section.

Oh, Funky Winkerbean, you are hilarious! Ain't nothin' funnier than a person whose speech is slurred by a debilitating stroke!

That is the punch line, right? I'm not just imagining it? There's nothing in any of the other characters' dry responses that's the least bit amusing, correct? So they're all acting as setup for poor Fred Fairgood's final comment, which apparently is meant to be funny because it's unintelligible. 

Jesus, the funny pages have become a dark and brutal place these days. I can't wait to read The Family Circus and see little Billy asking the neighbor kids if they want to see a dead body.

Hobbit Forming

Once again I see that the Wizard Of Id comic strip is doing its level best to ride on the coat tails of The Hobbit. A bit of writing advice to the creators-- it's never a good idea to remind your audience of a better fantasy series while they're reading yours.

And for Elrond's sake if you're going to continue to name-drop Tolkein characters in the hope that some of their cachet rubs off on your strip, the least you can do is spend the literally three seconds it would take to Google the correct spelling of "Gandalf."

I'm telling you guys, you're poking a sleeping dragon here. The Tolkein estate is notoriously litigious. One of these days they're going to turn their Sauron-like gaze toward your little strip and what you're doing in it and they'll shriek like Nazgul right before they serve you with a cease-and-desist order.

Brazilian Hobbit

Whew! Thank the gods old and new that the artist zoomed out in the third panel to show the Hobbit's feet.

I don't know who you are, Mr. Parker, but you're treading dangerous ground indeed whenever you attempt shaving jokes that don't involve a man's face.

On a side note, can anyone just stick furry-footed Tolkeinesque Hobbits in their strips now? I'm thinking probably not. The Tolkein estate is notoriously litigious and guards their meal ticket, er, property much like Gollum and his precious. I smell a lawsuit in 3, 2, 1...

Shrunken-Head Joe in The Terror From The Desert

In 1998 my friend KW Monster created a character called Shrunken-Head Joe to star in a comic strip in the local free newspaper. Joe was a swinging singer/adventurer who traveled the world with his inexplicably hot girlfriend Gwen. Oh, and Joe just happened to have a shrunken head. I read it in the paper, became a big fan, contacted KW by email, and a friendship was born.

In 1999, we collaborated on a second Joe comic strip. This time I wrote and penciled the story and KW co-wrote and inked it. The end result is interesting; the art sort of looks like both our styles, but not quite. It's a weird synthesis of the two. KW often accused me of packing excruciating detail into each panel, knowing that he would have to ink over it. I don't know where he got that notion. Doesn't everyone draw every single leaf on a tree?

Our collaborative strip was planned for 12 issues but ended up running for 14 and was a moderate hit; for many years after we would get compliments from local citizens. Then one day the editor of the paper actually read the comic and we were unceremoniously fired. Shrunken-Head Joe, we hardly knew ye!

Anyway, without further ado I present our strip, Shrunken-Head Joe in The Terror From The Desert. Obviously you'll have to click each image in order to read it. I'll try and keep my comments on each installment to a minimum.

The story is an homage to 1950s sci-fi giant insect movies such at THEM! and The Deadly Mantis. I wanted it to have a definite B-movie structure and feel.

KW, who in addition to being an artist is also a fine musician and song writer, wrote the lyrics to all the songs that Joe and Gwen sing in the story.

That Joe really knows how to treat a lady, doesn't he?

That's the classic "Something The Character Can See Just Offscreen That The Audience Can't" trope there in the last panel.

Just for fun, I named most of the characters in the story after those in various giant monster movies. Patricia and Professor Medford were named after characters in THEM! Mitch Macafee is named after the hero of The Giant Claw (one of my all time favorite movies). I can't remember what movies Sheriff Andrews and Joe Burch's names are from. It's been too many years.

Obviously Patricia Medford's appearance owes more than a little to 1950s pin-up queen Betty Page.

Note the sign in front of the diner in the second panel: "Get your Supper, Dessert & Dinner at the Super Desert Diner!" That's KW's joke. He noticed that if you double the middle consonants of "super," "desert" and "diner" you get three new words all related to meal time. Weird. He's always sitting around noticing things like that.

As I mentioned earlier, I penciled the strip and KW inked it, and he accused me of packing way too much detail into the panels in order to torture him. Look at the bottom left panel. Now I ask you, does drawing the cups and plates underneath the diner counter seem excessive to you? I call it attention to detail.

Another song written by KW. If I'm not mistaken I think he actually recorded this one, singing the lyrics and playing all the instruments himself.

As previously mentioned, I wanted a 1950s B-movie feel here. To that end, I wanted the Ant Men to look like they were men in rubber suits, and tried my best to draw them that way, complete with seams and eye holes.

Panels four and nine are sporting a definite manga influence. As for the last panel, I was never one to pass up an opportunity to show some gore. 

I love this chapter, if I do say so myself. One of the hallmarks of 1950s giant bug movies was the ridiculously inaccurate science, usually involving radiation or radar doing things they can't possibly do. I did my best to come up with the most preposterous "scientific" explanation possible.

So in what era does this story take place? The 1950s? The look and attitudes are definitely from there, but I'm not sure. When I was writing it I honestly didn't think about whether it was taking place in the past or a weird version of the present. Maybe it's like the universe in which the Universal Studios Frankenstein and Wolfman movies occur. Those movies had castles and villagers with torches, yet people were driving cars and using phones.

Hey, we get some visual Com-O-Dee there in panels eight and nine. Wakka wakka!

Also note the wiener dog in panel five. That's KW's dog Lucy. For some reason I drew her in at least one panel in each chapter. Take my word for it, she's in every one.

I tried to always make sure that the characters in the background were "acting;" that is doing something as opposed to just standing there like mannequins. It makes things seem more realistic. For example, in panel two Mitch isn't listening to the Sheriff and is trying to keep an eye on Patricia, who he thinks is devoting a little too much attention to Joe.

Ah, the old "The Monsters Don't See Us As A Threat So They're Ignoring Us" trope there in panel eight. If only I had a dime every time that's been used in a movie.

Again, KW accused me of deliberately adding too much detail. I don't think it was unreasonable to draw every single person visible in every one of the hundreds of giant pods, do you?

Say, that Ant Queen's kinda hot!

I actually felt bad when I killed off Sheriff Andrews, but someone needed to die to show that the group was in actual danger, and he was the only character I could spare.

Finally we get to see why Joe would bother dragging his guitar with him down into a dangerous giant anthill.

Note that everyone's word balloons have normal straight lines except for Joe's, which are all wavy. That's to show that Joe has a weird, monstery voice. KW once said he imagined Joe sounded like a cross between Boris Karloff and Humphrey Bogart.

In virtually every giant insect movie from the 1950s, a civilian would invariably end up commanding or at the very least strongly influencing the military.

General Buskirk was named after a character in The Giant Claw. 

Ah, the giant pile of something to lure the monster into the middle of town. Another classic B-movie trope.

When you get down to it, Joe's really a sadistic and manipulative bastard, isn't he? And yet he's still somehow likable. 

Always end your movie with an explosion.

The strip was not without its problems though. Each month I'd dash to the local grocery store to pick up a copy of the free paper and eagerly turn to the back to see our comic printed in glorious black and white. I'd invariably be disappointed as it would be a fuzzy, downright muddy mess. All our hard work and detail was for naught. In some cases you couldn't even read the text. I didn't understand what was wrong; each month I'd email a crisp, clean jpeg image to the editor of the paper, and each month it would print out blurry.

After many inquires we eventually found out that instead of simply using the file I emailed him, the editor would download my nice clean jpeg, then print it out to paper and then scan the printout in order to get it into his computer! Why he was doing this, I have absolutely no idea. We explained and explained and pleaded with him to stop doing this for months before it finally took, and finally the last three or four chapters were readable. Some people's children!

By the way, the free paper paid us the princely sum of $30 for each comic we drew, which KW and I split. So we definitely weren't doing this for the money.

We also had quite an elaborate Shrunken-Head Joe website going for a while back in the late 1990s. Then in 2000 the company I worked for folded, and since they were hosting the site, it vanished as well. 

I think there's still some life left in Shrunken-Head Joe. Maybe one of these days we'll bring him back.

ACK!

This week Cathy Guisewite, creator of the Cathy comic strip, announced she's ending the strip after 34 years. Thirty four long, lonnnnnnnng years.

Hallelujah. At last our long national nightmare is almost over.

I've never understood the appeal of the Cathy strip. I know, I'm not the intended audience and I'm not supposed to get it. But I don't understand why women like it. It's packed full of the most tired and stale female cliches there are: Cathy thinks she's fat, she can't find a man (early on anyway), she has a closet full of clothes but nothing to wear, she can't find a bathing suit that fits, and on and on.

Maybe women look at Cathy and think, "Oh, that's so true! She's just like me." I would think they'd just find it insulting.

If you don't think Cathy is cliched and insulting to women, then imagine if a man wrote the strip. He'd have been tarred and feathered or worse before the end of the strip's first week. But because a woman writes it, I guess that makes using cliches that were old in the 1940s OK.