For some unknown reason, I’ve been reading Funky Winkerbean for a number of years now, despite the fact that it’s awful. It’s probably the only real instance of “hate watching” I have. That term came about mostly in reference to teevee shows, with the idea that there’s a show you hate and watch anyway because the act of hating it is just so much fun. That may be why I’ve hung in there with Funky Winkerbean for so long, watching Tom Batiuk write awful storyline after awful storyline with the apparent notion that he’s creating humor and insight; the strip is like a little piece of a tire fire every morning, and really, reading it only takes about nine seconds (with another nine to think about how terrible it is), and then it’s on to the next thing. I usually read it in the morning before I even get dressed, while the coffee is brewing.
But no more. Last week came an installment that made me realize that I have no more use for the strip. It expresses a point of view that I find ridiculous and insulting and condescending, and with this, I’ve decided that Mr Batiuk’s terrible strip will take no more of my time, tiny though that investment may be.
If you’re curious, the installment that ended my reading of Funky Winkerbean for good is mocked, and rightly so, by The Comics Curmudgeon here. One less comic strip in the morning, oh well; I guess I’ll use the extra time to study the art in Cul de Sac more.