Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

…Funky’s alive, and back in Westview.  You think he’d be happy seeing his loving wife Holly.

Evidently, Holly went to the hospital cafeteria and didn’t bother to put a “Do Not Disturb Patient” sign on his door.  Dean Booth has already ushered in a number of “well-wishers” (I’m saying this, only because the only other alternative is that random people in Funky’s room are looking to steal his wallet or any other items of value).  To see them:

http://comicbooth.com/blogengine.net/post/Welcome-Back-to-the-Future.aspx

A few others have slipped by hospital security, too.  One is a fellow who’d argue against all those people who think Funky is a terrible, terrible father:

The other is one of the hospital’s own angels of mercy, although”zombie” of mercy might be a little closer to the truth.  Hang onto your brains, Funky! (Mary, dear — please go have your meds adjusted.)

And I don’t think it could really be Funky lying there if there weren’t a few maudlin drop-ins.  (Plus, I think this has real potential as a television series.)

Rex Morgan is back in the office, and his first task is an unpleasant one of telling Funky Winkerbean Mayor Stu that he has prostate cancer.  Of course, Rex is the consummate professional…

The USPS has issued a series of five stamps honoring the comic strips.

Let’s just say of the five chosen, as far as I’m concerned the Post Office is batting .200 (with the Calvin and Hobbes selection).  Needless to say, I’m not buying these because I like way less than half of them.

BUT! Oh, my gosh.  If you’re a regular reader of Josh Fruhlinger’s The Comics Curmudeon blog, you’ll know that today’s entry (“Friday One-Liners,” 7/16/10) is so chockful of great “shouldabeen” stamp selections that you’ll laugh up a lung, or some unidentifiable bits of something.   (A premoistened “Marvin” stamp! A totally black “Funky Winkerbean” stamp!)

CC’s Boojum pretty much capped it:

The Calvin and Hobbes stamp may be neither bought nor sold, but must be received as a pure gift. Properly applied, it can deliver not only the letter but the sender – immediately and free of charge – anywhere he or she can imagine: the planet Glorg, a snowy hillside, or the place where cooties are born. Its best and truest use, however, is to return the sender to childhood, and thence into a future of infinite possibilities. It is, always and forever, a First Class stamp.

*sniff*

Check out the entire merry thread:

Friday one-liners

Anyway, there’s just not enough stamps in the world to honor that which should be honored.  So here’s a very limited-run series of Rex Morgan, M.D. characters.  They weren’t around for long, but nuts to that.  And because he’s a doctor and knows these things, Rex has contributed some health and community-building insights that he’s garnered over the years on the golf course in his medical practice.

And not that anyone would use these stamps once they’d purchased them:

“How are Jenna and Dr. Mike getting along after that oh-so-magical first date?”

And, believe it or not, although schadenfreude sounds like one of those long, fancy-schmancy German words that explains something to absolute perfection (those Germans have a word for everything!), it really comes from the Feline, meaning just about what you expect it to mean:

Shannon is a small pain-in-the-ass child who Luann babysits on occasion.  This make her (Shannon, not Luann) one of the more entertaining characters in the strip.

I suspect Luann’s creator likes to believe that Luann is smarter than Shannon.  Dream on…

Well, as the week wears down (and the nasty emails to the writer increase), Luann discovers she’s babysitting!  How about that?

And since there’s nothing on TV, and she finished reading her Tiger Beat, and none of her friends are home  who she can chat up on the phone or the computer, she might as well talk to Shannon.

“Where’s Funky Winkerbean?”

Well, he was in an auto accident, and for the last few weeks he’s been transported back to Westview, c. 1970.  Confused and still fat, he runs into his younger self and wonders why he’s there.  Is he dead?  Is he nearly dead? Is this the proverbial life flashing before his eyes?

Deep philosophical things to ponder, that’s for sure.

But, here comes the weekend, so…

The original for the above mashup was published on a Saturday, but it seems that Funky has stayed in Neverland for the next two days! I don’t get it — it seemed like he was on his way to a hospital.  Is he still in a coma?  On a morphine drip? Sadly realizing what faces him if he returns to consciousness?

I just think he needs a little visitor…

Ahh, the mysterious wandering around explained — still en route to the hospital (no, not that it really explains anything):

(public displays of affection, if, like me, you’re still living in the 20th C.)

And what is more yack-a-licious than…

Just think! If Peter Kiesl had stayed State-side, what opportunities might he and Edie have had?

Living at Charterstone isn’t one endless pool party.  And when Toby is out for the evening with her husband, and Charley Smith is “entertaining” at his bachelor pad, and Jeff is “off” at an “important” medical “conference,” the hours can drag by…

Apparently even the creators of the Worthian universe have discovered just how boring Mike and Jenna are.

How boring are they?

When it’s less boring to have several days with Mary brushing her hair and talking to herself (or someone) in the mirror:

Or when she’s gone from quoting philosophers and statesmen to 60s-era popular singers, like Paul Anka (thanks to CC’s Buck Ripsnort for discovering that little gem).

Well, as long as she lives in the past with the likes of Anka and Barry Manilow.  My soul just couldn’t take some appropriations:

Don’t even get me started on this woman-in-danger channel.

And don’t get me started on how I tend to feel embarrassed and humiliated for people, even when I don’t know them.  Like poor Tommie and the bush-whacking she’s walked into:

Whew.  Now I feel better!

A number of CC folks weren’t so much concerned that Jeffy might never learn to read as to the fact that his legs were missing in the original panel circle.

There had to be a reason for it, and discovering that the wee one’s artistic aspirations go far beyond Daddy’s studio in the garage is quite astonishing:

[I’m sure the fact that a local all-movies/all-the-time TV stations in Tucson was running Moulin Rouge over and over and over had nothing to do with this.]