Whither My Winkerbean?

I spent way too much time this morning -- a grading/planning day -- catching up with Funky Winkerbean, which I haven't read in, um, appromximately, say, a seriously long-ass time.

And here's the synsopsis: Holy Fuck!

Apparently, my unconscious decision to read the comics page once a month or so and even then only hitting a few guarantees (Marmaduke, por ejemplo), didn't come at the right time in Style Section History.

Holy Fuck.

Slightly more detailed synopsis: Everyone has died. There's been some kind of apocalyptic voodoo cast down upon Westview and everyone caught a bizarre babycancer and then they all died. Or imagined themselves getting blown up. Or did blow up. Or became the butt of a cranky Crankshaft monologue. And then got thrown into the future, where, presumably, they won't be dead. Unless they're dead. In which case, they might just be dead. Or on a football team that, goshdarnit, just can't win.

I dunno. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

Bottom line: the next time a student complains about the quote-depressing books that we always read in English class-unquote, I'll just suggest that he spend a couple of hours with Professor Batiuk and His Magical Winkerbeanatorial Fun Factory and get back to me. The Road looks pretty good now, eh kids?

Garfield Gets His Postmodern Groove On

It's a wonderful world, indeed, when someone writes a code to rearrange Garfield panels in new and magical combinations, almost all of them with stronger narrative threads, stronger comedic ties than their sources.

Now, where's that link to "What Marmeduke Really Means"?