So when Cayla and Les agreed to “take a break,” it’s a hot time in the ol’ town tonight.
Eh, not so much.
I think if Lynn J. had stopped her strip instead of recycling it as My Ex is a Big Ol’ Dickwad FOOBlite, the population would’ve finally realized that Funky Winkerbean had skidded into its place a the Number One Dysfunctional and Not Funny At All (although we’re on the comics page) comic.
Is there any emotion generated for the character of Les other than contempt (and that’s being polite)?
On the other hand, you being an artiste and no doubt even a Special Snowflake among them, Les, you realize that the only thing that being talked about is not being talked about (some guy called Oscar Wilde said that. He was a writer, too.).
I think someone (not naming names, but the initials are T. B.) has that mysterious “Midas Manure Touch”…you know? Everything turns to crap, one way or another:
Currently in comic-strip land:
Spiderman’s been fighting on a NYC roof with a pair of vampires for at least two weeks;
Judge Parker’s been trying to talk a suicidal CEO off a NYC roof for at least two weeks;
Mary Worth’s friend Dr. Drew (Manwhore!) has been attempting to break off a “relationship” with a psychotic nurse for at least two weeks (not on a roof);
9CL’s Seth has been discussing Art (the subject, not some guy he met on Fire Island) on his back, with a woman sprawled on top of him, for at least two weeks;
and Les has been talking to dead Lisa about his book-to-film options on a park bench for at least two weeks.
You know, I think I’m going to find a roof-top, maybe on a Southern California hospital, with a bench there, and perhaps with a hot, gay male ballet dancer lying on it…
While I like the idea of Bucky Katt hitting Les in the back of the head with a Louisville Slugger
( http://snarkitupfuzzball.nexiliscom.com/?p=2615 ), this isn’t bad, either:
…but then again, Les would probably want to have a deep, meaningful talk with my ghostly self.
So it seems that Les’ cash-cow dead wife Lisa’s story (cleverly entitled Lisa’s Story) has been optioned for a movie. I’m so hoping that it’s one of those direct-to-cable Lifetime-esque crisis-of-the week-things. I’m certain, though, that since Les is such a Great Writer, it’ll be a Hollywood blockbuster. His kid mentioned something about being in 3-D. Maybe it’ll be like The Wizard of Oz (in the use of “special effects,” color vs. black and white), 3-D when Lisa is still healthy, back to 2-D following her mastectomy. (Yeah, that’s a nasty comment, but this entire, years-long plot has been pretty nasty, too.)
I think that if Les tries to contact Lisa after he’s made the beast with two backs with Cayla (yeah, Les and Tom, a real Writer coined that!), that Lisa refuses to chat with him…
Woohoo! Epiphany Time! Maybe Les LIKES to wallow in self-pity and grinding, relentless grief! He is a Writer, after all! And Writers are supposed to suffer, right?
Now, if I were an English professor like CC’s bourbon babe, unbuckled, I could assign an essay that asks “What is More Romantic: 9 Chickweed Lane‘s Hand Sex or Funky Winkerbean‘s Second Story Window?”.
Or, I could just make fun of that toad Les Moore…
Of course, there are other alternatives, if you can get past the initial stomach-heaving realization of matters:
And while the author has used this in the past, don’t count on any mercy this time around. This is WRITING, you know!
But you know what would be lots and lots of fun?…
Cayla and Susan are still battling it out for the lordly man-flesh that is Les Moore.
Honestly, girls: are there no other available men in Funkytown?
Well, at least you might be on the right track.
(Wally Winkerbean has just gotten a service dog to help him cope with PTSD)…well, you’d be wrong.
Really, really wrong.
The sad thing is this is very hard to snark — it’s nice to see something Good happening to just about anyone in Funkytown (exception, Les). Knowing the way things go there, Buddy is going to be hit by a car, or eat some rancid pizza from Montoni’s, or strike up a friendship with a blue cat…