Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

It’s just been a lot of fun, having Johnny Malotte’s outrageous Frahnch accent to mess around with, and CC commentary on his wife, the “Purple Pocahontas,” and the creepy Navajo rug on the wall (I don’t think there’s ever been that much green used in all the Navajo rugs EVER made).  So this might not make sense, but, to quote Johnny, “Who cahres?”

And then there’s the comments on the highest talent a woman in Lost Forest can aspire to:  pouring a really excellent cup of coffee (thanks for the start, Red Greenback!):

And then CC’s Ned Ryerson finds even more fantabuloso coffee-pouring! No wonder Mark seldom leaves Lost Forest!

…like that’s going to stop me from snarking it!

Whew…first Mark Trail jetting through space and time to find a damned fine cup of coffee (poured by a damned fine women, too), now a reminder that the worlds of Funky Winkerbean and Crankshaft are a common one. Well, at least sort of.  The current Crankshaft is introduced to Cayla.  Past Cayla, with an Afro?  Future Cayla, who comes to her senses and dumps Les before she makes some terrible, terrible mistake, and celebrates by returning to her favored look?

I can say with absolute authority:  I don’t care.

…which, at this point, is light-years better than watching Les Moore propose to the Cayla Realdoll.

Well, it seems that Gina’s happy youth was interrupted by her father witnessing a mob murder and the family having to go into Witness Protection (because that kind of thing HAPPENS ALL THE TIME!).

Or, maybe it does…I dunno.

And while that is a gripping scenario, Mary knows how to prioritize:

…but it was you and Billy who were so gung-ho on “camping out.”  Maybe next time you’ll think of the potential consequences.

And in the brutal light of morning, was it worth it, Jeffy?  Still, you will always remember Brokeback Backyard.

…to see someone’s self-esteem go swirling down the toilet? If so, check out the 19 August Funky Winkerbean, when it seems Cayla accepts Les’ crapola marriage proposal.

Everyone I know is hoping that it won’t go this way, but since when has Funky Winkerbean been anything but frustrating and patronizing (yes, it’s the FOOB of the 2000-teens!)?

Of course, we get to bear witness to all the wedding preparations now (squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!):

It seems Kelly Welly is going to insinuate herself into this new Biblical Bird-Band story, and to demonstrate this, there have been various panels with her sprawled out on her big, lonely bed, thinking about Mark Trail.  One particular close-up highlights her eyes, and this is a very nicely-drawn piece of cartoon art.

Of course, Kelly isn’t the only one in and around Lost Forest with large, limpid eyes:

Maybe a little scary, but what is absolute Gold (not just that old bird-band) is CC’s seismic-2, who noted yet another aspect of Lost Forest spirituality:

I am in AWE!

I’m not the one who got all schmaltzy and mushy and stealing one of Dali’s melting clocks.

I call it “Corpus Hypercutus (with a Melting Clock).”

Even more about Mary Worth having to listen to the non-story of Gina the Waitress and her Summer of Skateboarding.  You just KNOW something awful is going to happen to Gina, since no one except for Mary is allowed the least little shred of happiness.

Let’s see, we have a young girl in love, doting parents, carefree friends, and wicked cool skateboards.  What could possibly go wrong?

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Could any alternative be possibly worse?

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

Funky Winkerbean for the win! The dismal, dismal win!

Life might be dull, but it’s rather nice to have some consistency in it.

Jupiter will always be considered a planet.

One plus one will always equal two.

Les Moore will always be an asshat.

It would be nice if everyone (we’re lookin’ at you, Ms. I-Just-Know-I-Can’t-Do-Any-Better) would realized that…

And, dammit, if this isn’t going to be drawn out for a whole farkin’ WEEK!

Oh, crap. And here it is:  THE LOUSIEST MARRIAGE PROPOSAL EVER!

From the look on Les’ face, I’m sure he’s just tickled himself to death for being so gosh-darned clever.

In the words of one Comics Curminion:  ASSHAT.