Cartoons from the 40's Archives

August 9, 2026August 17, 2026

Nothing but the Tooth

“I- I could getcha into cah-cartoons.”

Directed by Arthur Davis; Story by Dave Monahan; Animation by J.C. Melendez, Don Williams, John Carey, and Basil Davidovich; Layouts by Don Smith; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on May 1, 1948.

1848 7/8. Sounds like the perfect year for a California gold rush! You want to work for a living? What are you, un-American? Porky’s taking a stab at it, which means all the cool person is doing it. And I do constantly worry about how the few people who acknowledge my existence view me. Let’s go west, pardners! Just as soon as I remember what kind of threats we’d likely face in this era.

Aw, yes. “Indians”. (Why did that term stick around so long? Just to keep the public from learning who was here first?) Porky has more balls than anyone who was born with three, so he defiantly (if a bit cautiously) enters their territory. And the arrows fly, destroying his wagons. They’re on their way and that means someone has to be the meat shield. If I volunteered, would Porky hug me or label me a kiss@$$? Either one is a win.

I laugh at Porky choosing his horse for the position. His tone suggests he was expecting the equine to applaud his idea, but the beast would rather the roles reverse. You’re running out of time, boys! Porky estimates a zillion of them, but in actuality, it’s one. (That was a very close answer, though. B+.) Or maybe it would be more polite to suggest it’s 1/2. It’s a nipper of a native that has his tomahawk set on Porky’s scalp. We’ll call him Pee-Wee, simply because Porky does and I try to always do what he does.

P.W. has a simple request: lose the hat. You just can’t scalp a pig who’s wearing a hat. (If I knew anything about gifs, this is where I’d stick one of Homer Simpson saying “You can’t kill him if he’s wearing people clothes!”) Porky refuses and tells the runt to run along. Porky has got to save all his worrying energy for actual threats. But since P.W. is the only threat appearing in this picture, he’s going to show up plenty more.

Well, he’s got big feet, large ears, and and nose that would put an aardvark to shame, so he’s not going to get Porky the physical way. Since he’s not athletic or good looking, it’s a good thing he’s smart or he’d have no reason to exist. He hides in a stoplight, nabbing Porky’s hat when the pig stops. His lack of reaction time makes him miss. So he introduces Porky to his wife instead. She’s about twice his size and maybe five times as wide. Is there a toxic waste dump out here?

Per a friendly reminder, Porky takes his hat off when greeting a lady. Then slips a metal helmet on when P.W. takes another swing at him. If only there were any other prospector prospects out here. Then he might have a chance. So for his next plan, he sends Porky a gift. (The deliverer looks to be one of Maverick’s ancestors. It’s obviously not, but I don’t care.) Oh the possibilities it could contain. Each one requires Porky have a firearm in hand. Let’s see what he got.

A feathered headdress! Is the little guy finally admitting Porky’s superiority and accepting his place as his b*tch? Or was he just using it as camouflage so he could get on Porky’s head? (Wait, that doesn’t count as a hat?) Porky flings him into a billboard. (‘Warren’ and ‘Foster’. I love it.) It’s like I’ve been telling ya, you can’t fool Porky’s brain. Try his heart. The little guy does, and he pulls out all the stops. That is a fine lookin’ lady! Even better is how Porky reacts.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard the guy be so horny! Look at him! Bedroom eyes, calling himself “Daddy”, going in for a kiss without consent. It’s out of character and hilarious! It’s a good thing she isn’t real or this could be a little disgusting. Still, it’s the closest Pee-Wee has gotten all day. And Porky is also big enough to admit this was his own mistake. He gets even by smacking the twerp’s tomahawk against a rock to get some good vibrations going, and hands it back to the owner. Shake it til you make it!… You’ll be shaking it forever.

He decides he’s just going to chase Porky across the country until the deed is done. If Porky wasn’t so merciful, he could just kill the pest. The next option is running. And paddling in a canoe after that. And after that? Going upstream with the salmon. And we don’t need any other steps because P.W. gets netted with the fish and sent to the canning factory. What does your wife see in you?

California at last! There’s gold and its mine. Porky sets to digging and Euweaka! Gold at wast! Specifically, Pee-Wee’s gold tooth. Would you look at that! Our title made some sense after all! This is why Davis ultimately lost his unit. You weren’t seeing shorts named “Emancipation Ducklamation“, “In a Pickle Wagon” or “Paint we got fun?” were you?

Favorite Part: It was horny Porky. He’s normally so well behaved around women.

Personal Rating: Poor aging leaves you stuck at three. Shame, as title aside, I would be tempted to give a four.

June 21, 2026June 28, 2026

Wacky Wildlife

“HEY, MABEL! COME ON OUT!”

Supervision by Fred Avery; Animation by Virgil Ross; Story by Dave Monahan; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on November 9, 1940.

Why, that’s my favorite kind of wildlife! Margarineflies, marmaladefishes, jarnose dolphins… I could go on. Sounds like we’ve got another of Avery’s spot-gag shorts. Here’s hoping it lands on the high end of the wildlife scale. More Wagyu tapir and less dead zorilla.

Look! A deer! A fawn they call it despite having no spots. The script says it will drink daintily, and it does not. The best gags are always simple opposites. Seriously, I’ve never gagged louder. Next. A snake with hypnosis powers. Where did this idea come from? Rudyard Kipling? It half works on its bird prey. The avian stopping just short of the mouth and calling us the crazy ones for thinking he’d do it. The serpent just blinking confusedly. Yes, a blinking snake. Now that’s wacky!

Really lame cat joke! The bobcat and the tomcat are named Bob and Tom respectively. See, if humor was what you wanted, you would have switched their names. There is a bit of a cute bit with a pack rat. He takes an egg, leaving an acorn as payment. Good deal. We could always use more trees. Once back, he trades his new egg for that acorn. Repeat. A little slow paced. But fooled me at first. Thought he was going to have a funny reason for switching back.

The Everglades have alligators, and one looks to be inspiration for Donkey Kong’s Klaptraps. You all know the punchline: he’s been sick. And I will be too if I hear it again. I can’t do better, but I can do different. Narrator: “Say, what in the world happened to you?” Alligator: *points to some gator-skin luggage*. Now, to a fairly close relative of his, a passerine scolding her chick. He tells her to speak English if she has something to say. Not bad, but her reaction is a bit much. I think we could tell a joke was told, thanks.

Now, unfunny, untrue pig propaganda! The ignoramus narrator calling a beautiful boar a “dirty, muddy, sloppy mess.” And the porcine agrees deadpan. Now listen here young man! Just because society won’t see your inner beauty, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Do as I say and not as I do, because pigs are better than people. I’ve never felt judged by them. And the next joke I think is okay, but I’m not too sure which punchline is correct.

Goes like this: some mallards have just landed on the water in front of a hunter. He shoots and three fly off, but not the last one. He’s got a U.S. flag on his wings. Is the hunter not going to shoot one of his own? Or is the duck not a coward? While I wait for an answer you guys will never give me, we look at probably the worst joke in the picture. A termite has chewed through a tree. And he shouts timber. What! Termites don’t speak English! That’s almost as wacky as a bobcat named Bob!

Give the short another point for the cowboy bit. I was sure the punchline was going to be him revealed to be riding a mechanical horse; not the horse patting its legs to make galloping noises. Take that point away for the camel bit. Remember last June? Tex’s unit did this exact same joke, just at the other temperature extreme. I’m so disappointed that I’m going to ruin the joke. YES, camels can get thirsty! Any animal would if they were in a desert long enough!

Let’s finale with another repeat tweaked slightly. A (wacky) wild animal that lives up to its name. A dog, rather than a cat. The reason? Loggers cut down trees. Much more realistic. Therefore, nowhere near as funny as last time. So was it hard for me to pick a

Favorite Part: Nah. That quote belonged to a bit that got a genuine smile out of me. It’s a coyote calling to his mate. Him panting at the end makes it work just enough for perverted minds. (Although, as a zoologist, I see it as a natural and beautiful pastime.)

Personal Rating: 2. I love animals too much to get too mad. And hey, there were a few segments that were decent fun.

April 19, 2026April 26, 2026

Henhouse Henery

“Mutts is nuts!”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Warren Foster; Animation by Manny Gould, John Carey, Charles McKimson, Pete Burness, and Phil DeLara; Layouts by Cornett Wood; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on July 2, 1949.

Are you in need of an earworm? Do you long to have nothing but a song playing in your cranium from the dawn of time til the dusk of the universe? Are you all there if you answered ‘yes’? You watch this short, and you’ll never forget Foghorn’s theme song. No matter how much hypnosis you undertake.

Enjoy your title treatment while you still can Henery. This’ll be the last time the studio tries hyping you up as the star.

Henery is on one of his usual chicken hunts, while Foghorn is setting up his latest prank. This time, he labels a stepladder as a fire escape, then lights a fire in Barnyard’s face. When the pup follows the sign’s directions, he falls; he splats. Clearly, we’ve got a master prankster on our paws. Foghorn then stuffs a beach ball in his mouth to shut his angry barking off. Pleased with his latest results, Foggy doesn’t notice the hawk behind him.

Said hawk gets his attention with a hammer to the head. Foghorn doesn’t take him seriously, though. Henery is a small hawk. Practically a newborn. Or newhatch, I guess. Whatever the correct terminology, Foghorn suggests he take on smaller targets to get himself ready for big game. Henery takes the tip, and starts making off with a hen. Foghorn grabs her, and gets smacked for it. Never try to save a woman. They think its demoralizing to get help from an opposite gender. Let them stand up to an active shooter, and whatever remains will take you to bed that night.

Foghorn reprimands the kid for still not going small enough, then grabs a nightmare on a stick to razz Barnyard with. Rather then rendering the dog catatonic, it just makes him angry. Foghorn is safe at the rope’s limit, and while that may be reason enough to paint the town red, he’d rather paint the tongue green. He’ll be telling his grandchildren about this one. Meanwhile, Henery is moping at his lack of luck. Foghorn tells him to grab one of the chicks just yonder. Bird racism continues to be in fashion, as the chicks are ducklings. Never trust a bird that willingly goes in water. I’ve never yet met an honest osprey.

Henery nearly drowns, and it’s awfully sporting of Foghorn to save him. He’s not utilizing Henery for dog annoying today, and he knows the kid is still a predator. But he saves him all the same. You think Henery will remember that? It might be worth surrendering the spotlight to the bigger star- I mean bird.

Speaking of Foggy, he’s just tricked Barnyard into running into a fence that he painted to look like an open gate. Forced perspective is so cool! Too bad he finally got off that rope, and can now chase. He’s built for endurance, so Foghorn doesn’t even have a chance running. Try a weapon. He chops a tree, and shapes the wood into a bat, but Barnyard gets it and can swing hard enough to cleave a table in twain. Foghorn gives him the slip, but isn’t the type to lay low for long. Might as well check on that chickenhawk.

Since even infants are too tough for Henery, he’ll have to go as low as possible and go for a chicken still in the shell. Foghorn directs him to a turtle. Now that I think about it, Foghorn really has it out for any nongalliforme critters. I hope he never learns about his son’s origins. Henery fails to get the “chicken” out of the shell. He just ends up getting pulled in and beaten up. He’s usually so competent at fisticuffs. I guess Foggy’s mind games have really gotten to him. He could really use a friendly pepping up. I recommend dogs for that. Pigs too, but I’d rather keep them for myself.

Barnyard just assumes Henery is looking for Foghorn, and suggests a team-up. I think that’s allowed. The two of them combined has gotta at least match Foghorn’s girth. Foggy notes Henery setting up a chicken trap, and can’t resist telling him it’s wrong. (He was created by humans, all right.) This trap just won’t work because all smart chickens will just jump over the rope snare like so. Good thing this trap was designed for those kind of birds, as Foghorn lands on a pitfall, and Henery gets the rope around his neck.

The little dog laughs to see such sport, while Henery takes his catch home. Barnyard may sarcastically call Foghorn smart, but even geniuses can make mistakes. (*glances at the Wile E. category*) I think he still qualifies as brain food.

Favorite Part: Foghorn demands an explanation on why Henery hit him with a hammer. Rather than comply, Henery hits him again. Funny, and a bit threatening.

Personal Rating: 3

March 22, 2026March 29, 2026

House Hunting Mice

“Now ain’t you cute.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Animation by Phil Monroe, Ben Washam, Lloyd Vaughan, and Ken Harris; Story by Michael Maltese; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek; Backgrounds by Peter Avarado; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on October 7, 1948.

You know Chuck, I liked your idea of dogs inspecting a futuristic house fine enough, but if you were to ever try again, it might be more fun if you featured smaller mammals. Like shrews, or tree shrews, or elephant shrews. Ooh, maybe all three? … Or I suppose you could use an animal everyone is aware of, sure. But you better make one of them shrewd!

Hubie sees an ad for one of those homes with all the trimmings. He summons Bert and suggests they take a look and see. Bert is ready to run upon hearing the automated voice, but Hubie keeps him on a tight leash. So it’s mechanical! That means those with short attention spans can now have fun with any task! And these guys are definitely short.

The first button Hubie presses starts an automatic phonograph. The contractor installed the part that actually plays music a couple yards away from the records. He said he was very sorry. So the engineers had to think of a way for those records to get to their destination as they don’t have any feet. The solution was surprisingly simple: just chuck ’em over and make sure the phonograph has a catchers mitt. It works like a charm so long as nobody stands in the line of fire. I mean you could still do that if you’re a jerk and music hater. They’re interchangeable terms.

Next up, the latest model of Elia. She still arrives when there is something to sweep up. And this house is still looking out for you by smoking cigars so you don’t have to. (And in later models, we hope to make it defecate for you as well. Staying classy over here.) Bert wants to push a button, but Hubie vehemently refuses. Smart people push buttons; dumb ones get the managerial positions. But Bert is so insistent, and pretty cute as well. How could Hubie say no to his partner?

He allows a press, but makes sure to get some distance put between them. He knows Bert so well. But the odds aren’t in his favor, as Bert pushed the button that does laundry. Turns out, laundry in the kitchen still happens to this day. And if you’re not blown away by this fact, sorry I grew up in a house that was different than yours. If I didn’t, do you think we could have been friends? Once Hubie’s been through wash plenty, he decides to give Bert extra slaps. He’s earned it.

It’s then that Hubie sees the dream button. Figuratively. I mean, he sees it literally, but it… oh, you know. It’s a cheese dispenser. I’m not surprised Hubie can read. I’m impressed Bert can. They give it a press, and it works great. But the contractor built all counters and tables out of its target range. This time he said he couldn’t be a$$ed. Being cooped up like it was made it dry, anyway. Once it crumbles, Elia shows up to do her one job. It’s funny hows there’s about 195 buttons in this house and not one of them is labeled ‘OFF’.

This time, Bert is ready with a plate. And while I notice that the two are lucky humans didn’t find this free snack source sooner, he gets clonked by the very hard cheese. Maybe it’s Chhurpi? Maybe I didn’t have to look up a clever answer, too. Elia sweeps up plate and mammal for the first time. When Bert leaves the trash, her advanced programming alerts her that refuse is trying to leave its proper receptacle. She really is a modern marvel. As opposed to modern Marvel. (I actually have no idea if they’re still as loved as they used to be. I just figured I had to make the pun.)

To free his pal, Hubie commits defenestration with a vase. By this point, Elia no longer feels she needs to be limited to the house. The whole premises can be hers to clean! Bert is freed and because he’s a good guy, (read: dumb) he answers the door when she rings. Guess one of them has to go, and Hubie loves Bert even if he won’t admit it to his face. He drops a bunch of fireworks to attract her attention, and Bert escapes while she’s distracted. But that was just step one of the plan.

Hubie next drops a lit candle. When Elia adds it to the garbage mixture, she gets a big bang out of things. Only nearly destroyed, she uses her last bit of remaining strength (and remaining body) to push a button herself. This one summons a repair service we like to call Repair Service. The author of the blog post said the list of names given to nameless characters is starting to get too long to peruse. The bots head back to the closest they share. (Don’t you rush them! They still need to figure out what they are to each other.)

Okay, so she can’t be destroyed. How does one manage to get rid of her before Skynet? Hubie has another idea and its also pretty brilliant. He goes back to the record chucker, but this time made sure to nail the phonograph into its hole. With nothing to catch the vinyl, it breaks to pieces. Elia is summoned. Then Hubie turns the device to top speed. You know, in case you like listening to music for less than a second before moving on to the next one, You know, like TikTok.

I think the record for broken records was broken. But Elia did what she was programmed to do and carts them all to the trash, destroying the can herself. Instead of worrying about the paradox of how she would have to sweep it up, drop it, then have her programming tell her to sweep it up, then drop it, etc., she decides to find work elsewhere. Don’t mention that she wasn’t even getting paid! She’s gone! Hubie’s a genius!

Bert isn’t. He decided to push the ‘Spring Cleaning’ button, and all of Elia’s sisters show up to make this place spic, span, spac, and maybe a little more spic. The mice try to escape, but are rolled up with a rug and taken where all the rugs get taken on this day: outside to be beaten. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, Hubie gives Bert a double dosage.

Favorite Part: Hubie asking Bert to dance when they’re first trying the phonograph. They really are a cute couple, and I buy them as one more than Mac and Tosh.

Personal Rating: 3, but it really is better than the last time. More focus.

March 15, 2026March 22, 2026

Little Orphan Airedale

“It’s not good for me to be roughly handled.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Tedd Pierce and Michael Maltese; Animation by Lloyd Vaughan, Ben Washam, Ken Harris, and Phil Monroe; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on October 4, 1947.

A break-out is in progress. Looks like the Phantom Blot has finally had it up to here with prison life. It’s clearly done a number on his psyche, as he digs his way out like a dog. Actually, it is a dog. And this is a pound. One that gets a hefty chunk of taxpayers money. Got a little courtyard and everything. Still, prisons are prisons. And sometimes gulags. The dog escapes, but the warden’s on his tail.

Lacking in hiding places, he hops into the first car with an open window. The pursuers keep on their way, but that doesn’t mean nobody witnessed him. Charlie Dog, in his film debut, is in this car. And he knows this guy! This is Rags McMutt. Pretty rude of his parents. The first part, anyway. There’s no shame in being a mixed breed. We really ought to be encouraging dogs to do that more often.

Charlie doesn’t worry about these things because he has an own-… mast-… I really don’t like either of those terms. Even ‘human’ isn’t entirely accurate. Let me pretend you haven’t figured things out and allow me to explain. Charlie was looking for somebody to love him. Some might say that’s a horrible way to go through life, but that’s because they have someone who loves them. Leave me and Charlie alone.

Charlie’s methods did not include the soulful eyes routine as he suggested Rags try. Rather, Charlie just mimicked everyone who passed by. People who can laugh at themselves make great friends, right? Maybe this is just his way of mocking the people who aren’t going to have the privilege of sharing a home with him. He thinks he finds a sucker in the only other non-human walking around: Porky Pig. He follows after, making sure Porky can see him pushing the elevator button and unlocking his door, for him. Porky compliments him for his courtesy.

He doesn’t allow the dog in. You mean to say that holding doors out for ladies hasn’t made me attractive either? Good thing we’re not talking about me, then. Charlie lets himself in to give the spiel: Porky doesn’t have a dog, and Charlie’s lacking a home. They could solve both their problems! Charlie’s a mix of various sought after breeds, can do tricks, and even offers to chase cats. Is that really a selling point? I’d imagine it’d only work on two groups: those with severe allergies, and me.

Charlie talks a big game, but the cat he chose to chase beats him up and returns him to Porky. He ships them. Porky still isn’t convinced, and tries to fling Charlie out. That’s when the dog mentions that it really isn’t a good time in his life for that. What with his condition and all. A condition he whispers to Porky, and I was too dumb to realize he was alluding to a pregnancy. I guess I should’ve understood when Porky gets outraged at learning the dog’s name is Charlie, but that’s a pretty unisex name anymore. He gets flung through the wall after all. Porky is macho.

Charlie next tries to guilt him with a phony snow storm in the hallway outside Porky’s apartment. Porky agrees to keep him from freezing, and lets him in. And you can’t claim Porky is dumb and didn’t stop to think about how snow would be falling in a building. He was luring Charlie inside, so he could say the pup needs to stay in a doghouse while he’s there. Then, nailing him inside what is really a crate. To Australia!

Charlie returns almost instantly. (But also took the time to make stops in places like Bikini [Bottom] Atoll.) He’s also picked up an accent. Bless Mel, he’s trying, but it sounds more British than Aussie. I can’t believe I’ve found something Mel couldn’t do. And I won’t believe it. Australian accents probably weren’t distinguished in the ’40s. Now, Charlie claiming male kangaroos carry joeys around in a pocket: that’s always been blatantly false. But I do like him trying to demonstrate by shoving Porky down his pants. I just typed that. Aren’t you proud of me?

Charlie finishes his tale, saying persistence paid off. And here comes Porky now. Shall we take the other dog in too? If only. Porky never got convinced and throws Charlie out again with another demand to stop following him. Charlie laughs it off and disobeys. Now that Rags has seen the kind of time and effort required in getting a home, he returns to the pound begging to be reinstated. You don’t really know what it is you have until you put it in perspective.

Favorite Part: Charlie isn’t just homeless, he’s ruthless! When he sees a man who is clearly stunted mentally, Charlie mimics him as well. I’m well aware that says I’m also quite lacking in ruth, but I see it more as innocent naivete. And that’s how I hear most humans talk, anyway.

Personal Rating: 4. I will never understand why Charlie never caught on better. I still claim him as my favorite fictional dog.

February 15, 2026February 22, 2026

Robinson Crusoe Jr.

“Waiter, waiter, percolator!”

Supervision by Norman McCabe; (His first time!) Animation by Veve Risto; Story by Melvin Millar; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on October 25, 1941.

Porky is going sailing! Maybe as part of the U.S. Navy, maybe as a freighter. Or I guess it could be for fun. What isn’t hard to guess is Porky’s attitude. He expects smooth sailing. And you know I’d be joining him if I was alive in the 40’s. Strangely enough, all the rats on the ship flee before it can sail. Now, rats are dang smart. But pigs are dang smarter. They’re d*mn smart! Porky believes the rats to be clueless cowards who wouldn’t know a ship sinking from a sub sandwich. (Porky? Did your arm just phase through the side of the ship?)

Nine weeks in and we’re still floating! And why shouldn’t we? This ship comes with a guarantee to be unsinkable. Signed by Thomas Andrews himself! I don’t care if the signature says “John Hancock”. Haven’t you heard of incredibly unoriginal pen names? D*mn smart as he is, Porky can’t help but wonder how the vessel would fair in a hurricane. Well, since you want to know so bad… Porky finds himself washed ashore on an island; the sole survivor of the storm. It’s just like that one story: “The Swiss Family Robinson!”

Luckily, Porky was expected. A little guy named Friday is here to greet and invite him to live together. (No, I’m not Friday.) The book chapter transitions I haven’t mentioned have jumped from VI back to III. Because that’s how numbers worked back then. Friday is pretty much a black stereotype. Rochester voice, unfunnily large lips; I do like his hat and spats. Very dapper. But in the spirit of adaptation, I’d just like to remind you that Friday wasn’t black in the original manuscript. If Mickey hadn’t done something similar six years earlier, I’d be more depressed.

He’s also got quite the accommodations. Complete with Bedrock style appliances. Turtle washboard; elephant spigots. How does one get just cold water to come out of a mammal? Is it a zombie? They sing too! That song will be stuck in your head all day if you let it. I did. Friday is a man of schedules. Today is Monday is washday is Friday’s. Porky might as well look about his new home and encounter some gags as he does. Not the funniest ones, but not the absolute worse. Two of whom I must discuss a bit further.

One: Porky finding a parrot and asking why it doesn’t respond to him. It’s waiting for the $64.00 question, but it was still presumptuous to assume being a parrot automatically means it can mimic. I’m an adult, and yet, people don’t just assume I drink. This picture already had an unfair stereotype. It didn’t need two! Second: animals gathered at a watering hole. Water cooler, I mean. They flee when they see Porky watching them, leaving a mess of papers. A feline of some sort (couldn’t be a tiger) returns to tidy up. The trash can reminds one to keep the desert island clean. But does this really qualify as one? Looks lush to me.

Porky comes across human footprints leading into a cave. So the island is more inhabited than he thought. Why isn’t Friday with these guys anyhow? He a misanthrope? Very noble. Porky enters to… establish trade? Show them whose boss around here? Eat them? Probably eat them. Pigs can eat humans very efficiently. It’s how I want my body disposed. Speaking of eating, the natives chase Porky. It isn’t fair to call them cannibals, seeing as they’re chasing PORKy. I’m not in favor of this, but I’m sick of people thinking cannibalism means eating something only similar to you. (We eat other mammals. So why do people freak out when cartoon fish try to eat each other?)

Porky flees back to camp. (I like him being faster than his footprints. That’s a decent gag.) Friday is equally scared, and is more than eager to join Porky once he carves a motor boat. Not willing to pass up a food source, the natives throw their spears. Who would’ve thought they could do that? Porky, still d*mn smart, stops things by putting up a sign on the boat saying their American. Listen, eating someone to survive is one thing. The crap the Nazis were pulling? They may be wild, but these guys aren’t savages!

Favorite Part: They bothered to only put four toes on the native footprints. They didn’t need to do that, as most people probably wouldn’t check to see to see if they were accurate, but they didn’t insult our intelligence. Almost as if they had a vision of a smart@$$ blogger discussing their work over 80 years later.

Personal Rating: 2. Weak gags and bad stereotypes. Two reasons for a two.

December 21, 2025December 28, 2025

Daffy Doodles

“I hate that d-d-duck.”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Warren Foster; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on April 16, 1946.

The first for Robert! And you know what? He deserves it. He’d been there since the beginning and would stick to the end. With that said, I do have to admit he’s my least favorite of the “big” directors. He just didn’t have many pictures that really wowed me the way the others’ did.

There’s a demon on the loose in the city. Their words, not mine. The narrator isn’t even sure what they look like. It could be me, but it isn’t. It could be you, but you’re better than that. What little information we do have is what the fiend is up to: putting mustaches on all the ads. I’d say that’s minor at best, and pretty childish. But it is graffiti. Funny graffiti that would probably make the populace notice your sign more, but I’m not the law.

The title was on to something! Daffy is indeed the one doing this. We’ve all got our purposes in life. Mine is to make people glad they’re not me, yours is to tell me I’m more than that, and Daffy’s is to paint. It’s niche, but it’s what he’s good at. You wouldn’t ask Dali to paint a still life of ham and swiss and not expect him to make each hole on the cheese a mouth and the meat covered in snails that have crab shells, would you?

The city’s finest better be called in to deal with this. And that means a guy who is a pig literally and figuratively. Porky fits. (And I’m sorry if you find me calling a cop a pig rude. You must not know how I feel about pigs.) His plan is to hold a picture frame around his face, and not move. No blinking, breathing, swallowing or twitching. At least he’s mastered not sweating. Daffy isn’t so easily fooled, being a master of his profession and all. He just leaves a box in front of Porky with the typical “Do not open until Xmas”. But that’s this week, and Porky won’t be around then, so it’s logical to look now.

Daffy was in the box and gives Porky a ‘stache. And it looks amazing! Rugged, manly, sexy, tough… these are all fine words, but I chose ‘amazing’. Porky gives chase, but Daffy is able to lose him by playing porter and getting Porky into a subway car. Now that he’s gotten a taste for painting flesh, Daffy holds out his brush to give every passenger a lip tickler. Daring choice giving an infant the Hitler look. Poor Chaplin. You will never be anybody’s first guess unless they’re trying to misdirect others.

The downside to Daffy’s hobby is that he’s easy to track. Just follow the latest line of mustaches. They’re on the pictures of the stars at the theater. (The one on Bugs is a nice touch. And a hint of their relationship in the future.) Daffy then sees the largest billboard ever. Don’t point me to a bigger one and ruin my amazement. This will be great. Bigger is better! And better art is a masterpiece! Daffy sets to work, but Porky spots him up there and gets in position. As Daffy swings about painting, Porky pastes him on the head with his club. That’s more success than Wile E. ever had!

Daffy threatens to jump off if Porky comes nearer. Porky comes nearer and Daffy jumps. When Porky peeks over, Daffy, on the ledge just below, paints him again. It really suits you, man! Either grow a real one or pay the artist for his service already! The chase resumes along the building. Nice camera work! Daffy is even willing grab a hold of his pursuer when he loses his balance. Of course, that’s so he can turn the tables and chase Porky on a motorcycle. It’s great exercise!

The chase leads back on to the roof and the two fall through a skylight. In the rubble, Porky lends new meaning to the term “handlebar mustache”. Daffy makes his escape via the mail tube, and Porky goes looking for him at the corresponding mailbox. Being Daffy, he comes back to berate the officer for looking through the mail and slaps some cuffs on him. Now right where Porky wants him, he gets another bonk on the head and is taken to court.

Daffy pleads to the judge. He’s made some mistakes in his life, but isn’t the guilt punishment enough? He’s willing to make a fresh start if the law will just give him the chance. It’s all up to the jury. Said jury is a hive mind of Jerry Colonas. Maybe they’re convinced, maybe they’re just trying to indoctrinate more vessels to feed his majesty, the Jerry-rig. Whatever the reason, Daffy is grateful and vows to never paint another mustache. He’s got to keep up with the times, and fashion says beards are in!

Wait a minute! It didn’t say anything about fourth walls! HHEEAALLPP!

Favorite Part: Daffy pleading with the judge and remarking that he too might be a maniac someday. If I’m ever on trial, I’m going to try that.

Personal Rating: 3. Welcome aboard, the U.S.S. McKimson! We’ll be having plenty of chicken and visits to Australia!

December 7, 2025December 14, 2025

Calling Dr. Porky

“This’ll fix you up.”

Supervision by I. Freleng; Animation by Herman Cohen; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on September 21, 1940.

In the past, Porky had terrible luck with hospitals. Whether he need medical attention or not, he’d wind up with some looney trying to saw open his stomach without anesthesia. His choices were either never see a doctor again, or get his own M.D. and show them how it’s done. I think you know what he went with.

New Rightus hospital is a great place! And I’m not just saying that because I break my leg constantly to stay in the same building my beloved buddy works. I’m saying it because they capitalize on space by sticking patients in file cabinets. If all you’re going to do here is lay around, you don’t get to complain about lodgings. Shut up and heal.

Our latest patient looks like a waste of canine space, but he’s got a real condition: a disappearing collar! And a hangover. This doesn’t really sound like our jurisdiction, but Dr. Porky never turns anyone anyway when they are in need. And he can fit many patients in a single day because he cures people the same way Mario does: pills. I don’t know what the ‘Pink pills’ do, but boy are they tasty! He’ll see the drunkard, now named Dru, and the nurse sends him to the proper room.

He is not alone. As one should expect in cartoons, being pixilatedly plastered presents a person with a petite, pink, proboscidean, poltergeist posse. And yeah, they’re unnerving me. Maybe its because they’re ghostly transparent, or because they’re stalking somebody. Dru isn’t happy to have them around, but he can’t escape them, so he might as well let them tag along. Of course, once he gets the doctor’s attention, he devolves into a terrified, blubbering mess.

Porky has seen this all before, so he knows exactly how to remedy the situation. All Dru has to do is sit down and wait. Then, guess who shows up. Right. It’s Pinky, Pinkey and Pinkquay. They’re sporting medical hats now because they’ve outgrown their cute innocent baby phase. Now, they’ve come to torment. As if doctors aren’t already scary enough. They belay instructions for Dru to follow, and he does because, what other choice does he have? Angering them could cause them to evolve into their final form. You don’t want to see that.

Their poking, prodding, pestering and pulverizing has led them to the only viable solution to save Dru’s life: operation. Not the annoying board game, the real kind with saws and organs. It’s in their best interest too, because they only exist as long as Dru is alive. (There’s an idea for a short film: a drunken hallucination trying to make the short time they’re alive awesome.) Once he’s in the operating chair, they can get down to brass tacks.

First: question time. Treating him like he’s on trial, they ask everything; not caring if they get any answer. We don’t find out where Dru lives, or his marital status or even his name. I was really looking forward to finding out who he voted for too. You know, I think the little gremlins are messing him for their own amusement. Any sympathies fall on deaf ears and are returned with mockery and laughter. They sound like rumors mixed with Tress Macneille. Combined with their diabolically, evil faces… yeah, they’re unnerving me. I’d be screaming for Porky along with Dru, too.

Lucky timing. The cure is ready! And if you had any doubts, they should dissipate along with those fuchsia freaks. Dru is back to how he was meant to be: sober, confident, well groomed. (Are you allowed to call someone that anymore?) He leaves the hospital ready to face the world. And the world spits in his eye. There’s a circus parade outside, and guess who is at the end of the parade of elephants. They had to go somewhere! Dru runs back to the comforts of New Rightus, vowing to never again step foot outside into the cruel, cold, uncaring world.

He hops in bed, only for those pinker stinkers to throw him out. They’re just not his problem anymore.

Favorite Part: You gotta love how even Dru’s stupor stooges wince at his brew breath.

Personal Rating: 2. I applaud for making those drunken terrors look more non-corporeal, but being in grayscale makes them blend into the backgrounds more often than not. It almost makes he want to recommend the ugly recoloring version, and I feel like I should cut out my tongue and eat it for saying so. Porky barely features as well.

November 9, 2025November 16, 2025

Porky’s Cafe

“I’m eh s-sorry, we have no d-demitasse, sir.”

Supervision by Charles M. Jones; Animation by Rudolph Larriva; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on February 21, 1942. (Chuck’s final black ‘n white.)

Porky’s cafe? I’d eat there! You would too since I’d march you in at knife-point if you refused. (I don’t have a gun.) Seriously though, folks, this place is the best. The meals they serve are made from real ingredients that do what real ingredients do if you don’t eat them: rot. I’m sure the prices are reasonable, and the owner himself plays waiter so he can see his patron’s happy smiles. And he doesn’t even have Daffy on hand to potentially screw things up. No, the chef is played by Conrad of all characters.

Conrad makes such sumptuous pancakes. Fast, too. The secret is to work to a beat. Conrad would kick donkey at Rhythm Heaven. The downside to his quick style is that the ‘cakes don’t always land back on the griddle. They’re on his hat. He figures this, but in trying to grab them, only manages to get the hat. Guess he’ll have to make more. Fast, too, as they’ve got a customer. I’ve seen some reasonable facsimile of this guy before. He shouts for attention, but the animation doesn’t suggest that. Genuine funny, or humorous mistake?

He orders up some alphabet soup. I’ve never had that, but as long as it contains zero bananas, I’ll try it. Porky has the broth, but the alphabet will be provided right at the table. Just stick a pancake into a typewriter and hammer out some letters. Warning: consonant eating may result in vowel movements. It’s an odd cut to the patron though; looks like a scene was missing. As soon as he can blow the steam away, he can get to guzzling. Yet, the steam seems hesitant to leave. Almost as if it will die when separated from the bowl.

Conrad’s adding the sugar to his pancake batter, unaware that there’s an ant inside. It’s fun to believe this is the same ant Porky met in Africa, but wrong. And if I’m wrong once, why would you ever trust me to be right anymore? The insect tries her best to not get scooped, but fails and into the batter she goes. The patron now orders a sandwich with every available filling. Since he doesn’t like savoring the exquisite tastes that ballroom dance on your tongue here, he squishes it down, plate and all, and dines à la snakes. It springs back in shape in the stomach. See? Chewing is your friend!

And onto the griddle the ant goes. She hops about in pain while Conrad stares horrified at this unnatural creation. Leg of lamb? Fine dining. Turkey leg? Best part of Thanksgiving. Bacon and legs? Bad pun. Pancake legs? Ew. He grabs for it, and his palm kisses the griddle. Ow. And now the bottomless pit wants t-bone steak, a poached egg, and coffee. Not wanting to make more difficulties for his hardworking staff, Porky scoots off to prepare this meal himself.

Wanna know a secret? Porky doesn’t serve actual t-bones. They are delicious, but the bones of those always end up having scraps of meat stuck to them that you can’t get off without gnawing and being labeled as some type of ravenous shrewman. And if you aren’t eating every bite of the animal that died for your digestion, you’re disrespecting. Porky has a solution! Getting out a ‘T’ stencil, he cuts a delectable slice of rib-eye. (Better than getting a P-stake, right?) ‘T’ is for “Too bad the grill is too hot.” The cow muscle is charred into a teeny, charred, ‘t’. No charge.

He uses machinery to get the egg cooked. A Rube Goldberg style of contraption that sounds like a suffocating babirusa. (I love making you look up new animals.) The coffee is simple: just pour it out of the pot. It’s fresh, full-bodied, and has been percolating since they opened this morning. As the customer find out firsthand, this will make all your bodily fluids bubble along. Now, where the Tartarus are my pancakes? I can’t just have plain honey for breakfast. I’m not Winnie the Pooh. (But I often wish I was.)

Conrad is still trying to contain the horror he unleashed upon the culinary world. Ants already don’t have the best eyesight to begin with, so I don’t struggle to believe she can still manage to avoid capture while in the belly of the yeast. (I know pancakes don’t normally use that, but the pun couldn’t be ignored.) He swings his spatula wildly, and the ant chooses to escape. Conrad notices and chases after. The ant’s legs have gotten longer and stronger hauling the dough around, so she has quite the advantage.

The patron is still eating, and Porky brings out the dessert: a breath-taking, literally heart-stopping, four layer wedding cake; black-forest with cream cheese filling, decadent ganache, and more calories than there are people in China. I was saving it for my wedding, but I’ve finally come to accept that such an event will not occur, and was willing to pawn it off on the first schmoe who was willing to eat it all in one sitting. The cat and the ant bump into the pig, and everything comes together at the patron’s table.

Porky is at the bottom, an apple stuffed in his mouth; the patron comes next, still bubbling; Conrad’s above him, angry, and with pancakes still on his head, (Cat hairs? Double ew); and the ant ended up on top, happily taking the place of the groom. To be fair, my 5,063rd dream come true is put my arm around a woman of marzipan. How come the ants Porky encounters live the life I want to have? Envy of an insect is pathetic.

Favorite Part: You really cold blink and miss it. The moment before Conrad starts wildly swinging his spatula, look at his face.

Rating: 3.

October 19, 2025October 26, 2025

A Feather in his Hare

“Oh, Harriet! Here we go again!”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese and Tedd Pierce; Animation by Ken Harris, Phil Monroe, Ben Washam, and Lloyd Vaughan; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek; Backgrounds by Peter Alvarado; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc. A Looney Tune released on February 7, 1948.

An unnamed human of the Native American variety is hunting rabbits. He lets us know this in mock sign language, and fittingly, the subtitles are equally mocking. This picture isn’t the easiest to watch. Plenty of outdated stereotyping, mixed with an annoying nasally voice. He’s also wearing no shirt, but lacks nipples. Just thought I’d point that out.

And as is common of Bugs’s adversaries, he’s not the smartest. He can talk to a rabbit, face to face, and still be convinced that the rabbit he’s searching for can be found by following the labeled signs. One of which states that there’s also a hare down there. Always great to have options. The man runs all the way home to get his bow and arrows, (raising the question why he didn’t have those on hand already,) and begins his hunt anew. (Woah! Did you see his foot overlap the hole? Neat feet!)

Hiding in the quiver, Bugs keeps calling out his supposed whereabouts, and getting the man to waste his arrows. Have a heart! Those things are expensive! Bugs bends one to make it return to sender, and after the man gets appointed, Bugs says he’s right over there. Bugs himself becomes the next arrow fired, and manages to give a kiss before he’s released. He laughs at his good fortune, but flies right into a tree. Advantage: the man. Bugs finds himself tied to a stake, whilst the man starts cooking some vegetables. Bugs is gonna be force fed and like it!

Being tied up limits Bugs’s fleeing prowess, but he can still hop away. The man, being the agreeable sort, picks up the pot and hops after. Bugs hops away again, the man hops after again. Eventually, Bugs realizes that if he stops hopping, but the man doesn’t, he’ll still end up away from him and his pot. Now that he’s got space to think, Bugs can come up with a new trick. I do like how we don’t get to see how he got untied. We just expected he would be, and the creators ran with it.

Bugs chooses to pelt the man with snow. That’s just cold. Doing so in July, (which is one of the only 12 months worth living through) makes it all the worse. How does he sleep at night? Bugs has a very logical reason though: it’d be too cold to do this in winter. I can’t find fault with that. The man realizes that he’s going to need to use his brain to catch this rabbit, so he sets up a phony barber shop. Guaranteed to be the last scalp treatment you’ll ever need. Not at all fooled, Bugs enters.

And he reads the paper. The man tells him its his turn, but Bugs is also rather agreeable, and tells the man he can go first. He was there before Bugs after all, and Bugs is a fair hare. The man is grateful and takes his seat. Bugs takes the role of barber, and can’t help but think how much more fun this would be with an operatic overhaul. Some other time, perhaps. He knocks the man out with his pocket tomahawk, and sticks him outside the establishment with cigars. Okay. That was pretty funny. And wouldn’t be possible with Elmer.

The man is still on Bugs’s tail, so Bugs decides to use it as an outboard motor. He flies ahead, but stops at a nearby water pump. He’s got an idea! Mixing water with earth makes clay, and mixing clay with heat makes ceramics. (You ever play “Doodle God”? I liked that game.) He breaks his new vase on his pursuers head, claiming his victory over… over… say, who is this chap, anyhow? Just because I’ve been calling him ‘the man’ doesn’t mean his parents did. He identifies himself as you’d expect: the last of the Mohicans.

Bugs calls his b.s. by pointing to the sky. Storks abound with carbon copies of the Mohican. Who says you can’t be born with glasses? (I says: “Those bundles keep changing color.”) Not feeling he’s father material, the Mohican faints. Bugs laughs, but takes the leaf out of his book when he sees the storks aren’t limited to delivering Homo sapiens. What’s more is the amount of young rabbits have: a litter.

Favorite Part: Bugs removing a mousetrap from the Mohican’s hand and declaring that none of the bones are broken. The fingers are bent the opposite way, but they’re definitely not broken.

Personal Rating: I teeter on the edge of 1 and 2, but ultimately lean towards the former. It’s not just the racism, it’s the voice. It annoys me. The score might not be impartial, but it never has been. That’s why I label it as ‘personal’.