Les Moore Is a Dick.
If you’ve been following Funky Winkerbean lately, and I have, you’re no doubt appalled by the blatantly absurd trajectory of the plot involving Les Moore and his wife Lisa who, after a double mastectomy and remission, has learned that the cancer has returned and she is probably going to die.
In what seems to me a totally unrealistic plot device, Les and his dying wife are vacationing in Arizona, while she’s actively on chemotherapy.
Chemo makes you vomit, it makes you weak, it gives you diarrhea, and makes your skin more sensitive to sunlight, and I’m to believe this woman has the stamina to hike the Grand Canyon?
On top of this fantastic, yet heartstring-plucking, plot, we have the bizarre behavior of Les, who is one of the many protagonists of the strip. Readers know that Les is a high school teacher, and while I think no one except for Bruce Tinsley would ever deny what a difficult and challenging career that is, for crying out loud! Can this character put away his obsession with his job aside for a couple of days and make his dying wife’s vacation in Arizona a happy occasion?
Here’s Les insisting they leave historic Indian ruins because of the presence of an ignorant child that reminds him of school.
Here he is again, clenched fist, scowling, while his dying wife looks on, resigned to his petulance.
In fact the only way Lisa can have a good time, possibly her last vacation before she’s pushing up the daisies, is to beg the tour guide not to mention anything having to do with secondary school or higher education.
I mean, how petty can you get?
My readers who don’t care about Funky Winkerbean are grinding their teeth and muttering “Why? Why the hell do you even give a shit about Funky Winkerbean? IT’S A GODDAMN COMIC STRIP.”
My objection, as it is with For Better or For Worse, is the sheer disrespect ot the reader. First, Batiuk wants me to believe that a woman taking cancer medications, the kind that confined my former housemate’s best friend to a hospital bed where he couldn’t have fresh flowers because he had no fucking immune system, is gallavanting around Arizona. OK, well a little far-fetched but I’ll reserve my suspension of disbelief. But he wants me to laugh at Les’s foibles, shrugging my shoulders and giggling like an Olsen twin listening to one of Bob Saget’s non sequitors? That’s our Les…
I call bullshit. Batiuk presents a heroic story of a loving couple having their last days together, but I’m reading about a total self-centered asshole who should be going out of his way to make his wife’s final days happy and is instead throwing childish hissy fits. Not going to swallow it.
In other news:
Mallard Fillmore is still not funny (though if you click the cartoon, you’ll go to the ACLU).
Seriously, if you like Mallard Fillmore or know someone who does, leave a comment explaining what makes it funny. I don’t know anyone who finds it even worth a snicker, never mind an outright chuckle or a hearty guffaw.
One Response to “Les Moore Is a Dick.”
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December 21st, 2006 at 6:28 pm
Sorry Brendan, have to comment, having been through it twice (for breast cancer). Yes, it can make you nauseous, but with decent meds, that is overcome. Depending on protocol and response, many patients work full time, vacation, ride biciycles, work out, walk or run daily (though I did not do the latter) and are quite active. Sunblock, hats, sunblocking clothing, etc. take care of sun. Never though I’d be able to self-administer shots to build immune system, but lo, I did, enabling travel. While a agree with your comments about Les to some degree, give him a break - being a caregiver for a cancer paitent can be and usually is a pain in the ass. He’s dealing with the possibility of losing his wife, after all. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a cancer patient actually faced with dying from the disease is that death is usually harder on those left behind - sounds like that’s what you might be dealing with. Ever think that’s what he’s reacting to - being a spoiled little boy not knowing how to cope?
Yes, Lisa has incurable disease - it doesn’t mean this is her last vacation. I have had friends live with metastatic disase for up to twelve years with excellent quality of life - one of them went for a 10 mile bike ride (to her doctor’s office) the week before she passed away. For a man who hasn’t walked in the shoes of a breast cancer patient, Batiuk has portrayed the experience pretty damned well. One of the best things he’s done is show that you can recur after five years of showing no evidence of disease - too many people think they are free and clear at five years.
As for Mallard Filmore - I am in total agreement with you.
Vicki Tosher
first diagnosed 1992
diagnosed again 2003, new primary