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?