Category: Chuck Jones

Anything directed by the man who was responsible for directing the number one greatest cartoon.

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Two Scents Worth

“Poems are made by fools like me.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Charles M. Jones; Animation by Keith Darling, Abe Levitow, Richard Thompson, and Ken Harris; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Music by Milt Franklyn. A Merrie Melody released on October 15, 1955.

L’histoire d’aujourd’hui se déroule à Les Aples Francais, and et maintenant, j’en ai fini de faire semblant de parler français.

In the town of Nasty Pass, a man goes to the fishmonger to purchase one herring. Yes, one. While we can’t hear from this side of the glass, the monger seems just as befuddled to hear such and order. But a sale is a sale, and he forks over the fish. (I can read the ‘Sardines’ written on the barrel, but I prefer to use a more proper vernacular.) This isn’t just a lunch on an extreme diet, it’s an investment.

This guy, (who kind of looks like Ralph Phillips’s homeless uncle, Troy) uses the fish as bait for Penelope Fifi Pussycat. And it is successful. She’s a rather easy-going girl who has no problem with the guy painting a white stripe down her back. Nor with him dropping her through the skylight of a bank. The populace does. That’s a pseudo skunk if they ever saw one! Some would say it’s worse than the real kind, because you can’t deodorize them. They flee, and that guy robs them blind.

He gets his comeuppance, fierce, though. Leaving the town, he tells what he thinks is his ally that he no longer needs her service. Then the scent enters his nostrils, and his brain registers what this means. That’s a real skunk if he ever smelt one! It’s like a burning cleanse of holy water, and he retreats to jail, locking himself up, completely reformed. Now maybe Mr. Phillips will invite him to Thanksgiving dinner again.

That skunk sees that pseudo skunk and is smitten. He might be coming off a little too extreme this time. Climbing into her arms and saying that if she stops resisting, he will do the same, and that’s the best deal she’s going to get. And I still can’t help but love him myself. And all skunks for that matter. They’re cute and can defend themselves wonderfully! It’s no different than a woman with mace.

Speaking of, I bet the pseudo really wishes she had some of that stuff. She’s taken refuge in a gondola, but the genuine hopped aboard last second, and is still advancing. She escapes by walking across the cable they are hanging from. For once in history, it paid to be a cat. She runs as far up as she possibly can, which is the tip of the nearest ski jump. And he still manages to catch up and catch her. Kissing must be really nice!

Squirming out of his grasp, she lands on one of the skis left up here, and goes on a wild downhill ride. Pretty much the rest of the short here. Her hunter, more safety concerned, comes after her on tow skis, just as humanity intended. George of the jungle he is not, but he still should watch out for that tree. Eh, we didn’t see it either, so cut some slack. That was a well delivered crunchline.

The skis land, for the rest of this wild ride. The genuine gets back on his skis, while the pseudo still wonders how she ever got in this situation. And as if things aren’t worse enough for her, she’s coming up to a cliff. Trying to remember what the ski instructor said is impossible when all she can think of is that stupid, sexy skunk. She decides to just do her best at stopping the ride. And it works! Right at the edge and everything. Safe at last.

And then he plucks her up as he goes over the edge. If there’s one thing more frightening than his advances, it’s the height they’re at. She clings to him in fear. Always prepared, his parachute lowers them to safety. I bet by the time they land, she’ll find she still has fallen. For him. *Rimshot*

Favorite Part: When he admits he’s not just attracted to her body, but her mind. True, he just met her. True, she hasn’t said any actual language. True, it’s a joke. But it still help him curry my favor. I wonder how Chuck would react to see how hated this character became.

Personal Rating: 3. That tree slam alone was worth a point.

 

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Double or Mutton

“Goodnight, Ralph.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Richard Thompson, Abe Levitow, Keith Darling and Ken Harris; Layouts and Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Milt Franklyn. A Looney Tune released on July 13, 1955.

Well, time to get to work. Sheep aren’t going to watch themselves. You better be ready to pay handsomely to get someone excited about being a sheep watcher. Only people like me would do something like that for free. Sam clocks in. Ralph clocks in. Those sheep aren’t going to steal themselves. It would make a very lonely life for an animal that prefers to stay in a flock. And yes, the two main player’s finally have their definitive names.

With a blow of the whistle, Ralph starts digging. Pop up as needed to refill lungs and get a good view of the area. Probably best to do that behind trees so you won’t get spotted so easily. Ralph is spotted easily, and the next tree he looks behind is Sam. One punch down, infinite to go. And Ralph doesn’t have a company he could sue for his failings. (And if you still haven’t watched that movie yet, you’re failing me. Our friendship won’t last if you can’t do this only favor I’m asking.)

Better try the opposite of under the earth. Ralph flings a harpoon into a tree, ties its line to another, and makes a tightrope to cross. Now he can obtain an ovine with a lasso, and dart back across before Sam notices. Can not will, you understand.  Sam has taken over holding the right end for the tree, and demands the sheep. Ralph complies and sprints back to left, before Sam drops the line. He makes it to the harpoon, just before Sam drops that. Sheepdogs are faster than sound.

The next plan actually does function near perfectly! Ralph fires a rocket with a rope loop at Sam, and it takes him far away. Finally! It’s taken two other cartoons, but a mutton meal is on the way! I recommend the black sheep of this herd. Ironically, it’s the one with the white face! If only Ralph had accounted for trees that might have gotten Sam’s rocket lodged in. He never considered just walking the opposite way. Have you ever carried a ewe uphill?

Time for some acting. Dis guy’s disguise is Bo Peep. As part of his role, he’s lost his sheep, but Sam needn’t bother getting up. “She” can pick it out amongst the others and take it back to her cave. (Times are rough for those Peeps.) As “she” reveals she’s a wolf, “sheep” reveals he’s a dog. Meanwhile, a sheep is suffocating inside a dog suit. It’s baked mutton or nuttin’ for dinner! And later, Sam flips Ralph’s cannon back at him. Poor Ralph gets a color change for his muzzle.

You know, Sam’s a rather fuzzy guy. If his nose wasn’t so amazing, he’d be legally blind. All Ralph heard of that was “blind”. He pours some hair growth formula on Sam and the rain and sun do their part to work it in. After the storm, Sam’s face is even more covered than usual. And he doesn’t react to Ralph waving in front of his lack of line of sight. Or Ralph’s eyes changing color. It must be working! It’s taken about three cartoons, but a mutton meal is on the way!

And Sam grabs Ralph before he lays a paw on the livestock. But time comes to rescue, and the clock says the two are done for the day. Bidding each other goodnight, they head off for a haircut and massage, respectively.

Favorite Part: The smile on Ralph’s face when he realizes he dug behind Sam. It’s equal points horrified, clueless, and hilarious. Beautifully complimented by Sam’s wry little half grin.

Personal Rating: 4. And that’s all on Ralph here. His expressions and dances belie his carnivorous nature, and make him look like an overly confident kid.

 

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Little Beau Pepé

“A pitiful case, am I not?”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Lloyd Vaughan, Ben Washam, Ken Harris, and Phil Monore; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek. Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on March 29, 1952.

Welcom to Le Desért Sahára! Oh, pardon their French. That translates to “The Desert Desert”. Where you can be sure to find three things in a cartoon: sand, a foreign legion outpost, and hot sand. Item 2 on the checklist is right over there. And it’s got a great array of troops. There’s Monocle, Eye-patch, Noselookslikeadragon’stail, and Magic Stubble. They’re hideous, but that’s okay. The people who end up here are the unloved ones who were never going to be anything but alone. (That’s me at the end there.)

Fittingly, the mascot is an animal that wouldn’t love anyone even if they were sexy: a femme pusseé cat. Plus, when you’re stationed in the world’s biggest litter box, they’ll come to you. In the meantime, there’s lots to do. That ladder isn’t going to paint itself. And Mel’s paint is the perfect color. It will reflect heat, and make gripping it less painful. And while it look compact, this fort always has room for one more. Uncle Francois loves all his nephews.

Enter our titular beau. He’s finally had enough of ladies running away from him, so has come to enlist to forget. Sadly, the commander, and every other human for that matter, flee before we can learn his social security number. I was going to use that information for innocent things, officer readers! Pepé is a mite confused at first, but quickly deduces that he has already risen to such a rank as post defender. I believe he could chase any threats away.

As he patrols, the mascot gets up for her daily ladder rub. It’s a cat thing, I’m sure. But she doesn’t look so cat like to me anymore. Thanks to Mel’s paint being the kind that takes 24 hrs. to dry, it’s still wet. And coating her fur in such a way as to suggest a skunk’s pelt. And Pepé is an addict, so he wasn’t going to make it going cold turkey anyhow. His best bet would be to wait a few decades, until women are allowed to be a part of the armed forces, then get enlisted in a mixed group. Skunks can live that long!

He relapses and scoops her up. She wants no part of this? I shan’t believe it! Pepé has wonderful genes to pass on! Good thing he’s the expert here, and can explain what’s going on. She needs to touch-up her make-up. Maybe make sure her pheromones are in good wafting order, groom a little, buy a bathing suit. Pepé can wait for the first one, but he’s been alone too long. If she’s not in his arms every second, his paranoia is going to suggest that she’s seeing other skunks. Hinky has power! Good looks get eaten alive by that!

Considering she didn’t even make it up the stairs, I think Pepé was right on the money. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a good game of tag? He cheats and stays still, so she has to run back down and hide in a barrel. The same one Pepé was preparing the drinks in. As a teetotaler, she flees again and ventures out into the dunes. She’s not a meerkat; only a mere cat, and hardly gets anywhere before the heat starts driving her to exhaustion. Pepe is in his element seeing as how he’s a skink. (There’s no ‘I’ in ‘skunk’.)

Penelope manages to get to the nearest oasis. And it’s no mirage! And since the very appearance of a cat makes everyone vacate, it’s all hers. She heads for the life juice, but Pepé meets her there. Fear and exhaustion finally tag-team her into submission, and down she goes. Pepé gets her into the prettiest tent. Yet, she’s still out cold. How can that be when the man of her dreams isn’t even in them? This is going to require some stimulants. Smelling salts aren’t nearly so pleasant, what she needs is a good nose of perfume. This tent is well stocked.

Pepé mixes a little of each one together, and I think he concocted a winner! Green scents are nauseating, but pink ones are arousing! You’d think the delicious ones would have a more appealing hue than clear, but that’s neither here nor there, or even yonder. Pepé gives a good spritz, and plays some music to really seal the deal. His charms work like a charm and the lady awakens with hearts as her pupils. Further lending credence to my theory that the only problem with Pepe is that he’s a skunk! A lack of con-scent never played any part in things!

Sadly, Pepé is no different than any other males. He brags about being Chuck’s gift to ladies, but when an actual woman shows interest, he curls up in his shell. Unless she’s close enough to grab him. Then he flees. It’s a wonder any race continues to thrive.

Favorite Part: The look on Penelope’s face when one of the troops gives her a back scratch. That’s a look of pure contentment. You want inner peace? Find someone willing to do the same to you.

Personal Rating: 3. I’m still a staunch Pepé defender. I hope he’s in Coyote Vs. Acme. Ooh! And maybe they could reference his debut by making the French casanova just a character he plays on screen!

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Two’s a Crowd

“Oh, you darling little fellow!”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Ken Harris, Phil Monroe, Ben Washam, Lloyd Vaughan, and Emery Hawkins; Layouts and Backgrounds by Peter Alvarado; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on December 30, 1950.

Claude has it good. Catnip candy, his own bed, toys, and he doesn’t have to share any of it. Sounds like this should be disrupted! As it turns out, the lady of the house just had a birthiversary. And John really wanted to prove he loves her, so he got her a puppy. So lively and frisky. You should call him Lively! Either that, or you can suggest your dog frisks people. You do you… is a statement I dislike because it sounds to me like you’re telling someone to @#*% themselves. Now, back to the show.

Claude is not pleased. The tiny creature has got to go, lest it keeps reminding Claude that its cuter than him. The lady, Dear, does question what they will do if Claude doesn’t like the cutie. Simple answer isn’t it? You get rid of the cat. A dog is better in every way, anyway. That’s John’s reasoning anyhow. And Dear is fine with it. Did either of you actually adopt him? Or did he just come with the house? With his home on the line, Claude comes out and fawns over the little muffin. Even keeping his cool when Frisky bites his nose. This has healthy relationship written all over it.

Now, most humans lose interest in their new animals shortly after obtaining them. To whit, John and Deer are off to the movies. Claude can house train the little guy. But right now, what Claude is smelling is an opportunity. He can off the pup while they’re out. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW! Once the humans leave, he reveals that he’s no declawed cat. He’s ready to skin the whelp alive or dead. He’s not going to be replaced. He’s not yellow figuratively, just literally. He’s-

On the ceiling. That little pup is fast! And Claude always has had a bit of a nervous temperament. When the dog barks, he flies into the air. It’s annoying, but harmless as he always lands on his feet. Claude thinks he’s got in cornered in the closet, but that was his own mirror reflection. The mirror breaks, but the pieces that fall out are the ones that surrounded Claude’s impact. And here I thought the results would be mirrored. (Man! How do I only average 200 visitors a week?)

This requires bait. Puppy biscuits are just the thing! They’re crunchy, flavorful. Need any other reasons? Frisky follows the trail Claude has led to the washing machine. Drowning him and breaking his bones? Diabolical! Dogs love their bones! Too bad Claude not only got his tail caught inside, but Frisky ducked back at the last second. Luckily, it all comes out in the wash, and Claude exits looking like a Cheetos snack somebody left in a glass of water. (Incidentally enough, that was my grandma’s preferred way to eat them. I hate myself for reminding me.)

We’ll need to try again with different bait. Sausages linked to dynamite will do. He whistles for the dog, who then warps from where he was standing to walking towards the meat treat. Frisky gobbles them down whilst Claude takes cover. He’s then horrified to find the dog came over to thank him personally. Claude hides from the combustible canine in the closet, and finds out that the little guy got full before he ever touched the spicy parts. Seven lives left! That should cancel out the broken mirror’s powers.

Simplest is best, so Claude just chases Frisky with an axe. The pup’s secret advantage? He’s small. He easily fits in the heat vent. Claude goes to get a plunger, giving Frisky the chance to escape. Claude’s adrenaline powers him up something fierce as he pumps plenty of suction into the furnace. He gets a wealth of burning coal and a plume of fire in the living room. Suddenly, I get it when people say a cat brings warmth to a household. Won’t the parents be pleased!

Nope. Deer is devastated; John is livid. No way an innocent baby did any of this. Claude is kicked out of the house but permanently. And I say without irony that the cartoon ends happily for everybody. For you see, Claude sneaks back in for his revenge. Simpler than an axe is giving Frisky a dose of his own medicine. Claude does a great impression of a dog barking, and Frisky is equally talented at playing a scared cat. Never knew his claws could grip like that!

Favorite Part: That puppy biscuit box may look like gibberish at first glance, but it becomes legible English later on. Basically stating that any animal can enjoy these things, because all animals have the same kind of digestive tract, right? Do you think the Jones unit had any idea that people would be able to catch such details in the future?

Personal Rating: 3

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Prest-o Change-o

“It’s twelve o’clock!”

Supervision by Charles Jones; Story by Rich Hogan; Animation by Ken Harris; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on March 25, 1939.

Charles and Joe are on the run from the world’s scariest dogcatcher. Basically an evil silhouette with an eye. Shadows always are scarier when not attached to their source. But they still don’t have a brain, so the pups give him the slip by ducking into the nearest house. A sign declares it to be the home of the magician, Sham-Fu. Because why not advertise yourself as a fraud? Most humans will be too dumb to catch on. They’ll probably think it’s a riff on a certain dolphin, and that’s despite the fact this picture predates her by a couple decades.

The dogs are almost immediately separated. The doorway Joe enters just shrinks to nothing before Charles can follow. He wasn’t paying attention anyway, so all he knows for sure is his partner in whatever crime they are currently on the run for is gone. But there’s another warm body on the premises for him to interact with. None other than Proto-Bugs! Who possibly could be Sham, seeing as we never actually do that with a human. It’s just a stage name he uses to sell shows and afford this house. Probably just hires people off the street to pretend to be the magician. Always suspect the rabbit!

My theory garners more evidence by revealing P.B. can perform prestidigitation. For his first trick, or feat really, because it’s actually happening, he makes a decorative vase disappear and reappear in the air above Charles’s head. Then he makes himself disappear in the coat he originally appeared from. When the angry Charles tries to get him, he instead gets a dead lobster pinched on his nose. For a dog, that’s like you getting your eyeball pinched by a live lobster. As is the style of cartoons with these dogs, we will now switch to Joe’s escapades.

He has found a different sort of magic being. If that can even be the appropriate term since he runs into what is labeled as a “Hindu Rope Trick”. ‘Indian’ isn’t P.C. Or even just C., as this rope was born in Cleveland. It seems friendly enough, but without facial features, we’re just guessing. And we’re guessing ‘no’ since it refuses to shake Joe’s paw and thwacks him on the head. Does that count as punching or whipping in this case? Joe plans to give him what-for, (and we know what for) but it’s time to check on Charles again. I worry about him.

He has just managed to rid himself of the crustacean cadaver, when P.B. reappears. He can materialize a pop-gun, shoot Charles in the nose, then turn into a bush to avoid consequences. He also knows how to turn himself back to lagomorph to give the dog a smooch. Then, when Charles threatens to tear him a new one, he makes himself disappear into thin hare. Er, that ‘h’ is supposed to be silent. Um, Joe distraction!

Joe is following the rope still. Thank you, Joe. The rope snakes its way into a trunk and gets a hold of a magic wand. A prop holding a prop? What’s next, a star orbiting a star? The rope summons a vase to drop on the dog, then a pitcher to pour water on him. It’s very container based. The rope also disappears for a frame. It’s no slip-up, it’s magic! Joe next tries to rest the wand away, (losing his tongue in the process, which seeing as he’s not magic…) and in the scuffle he swallows the dang thing. Now he can hiccup canaries! Points for an original superpower.

P.B. is still picking on Charles. He disappears again, only to reappear again, to pinch Charles’s nose again. Then he flees again, but not into the air this time. He ducks behind a door, which he then turns into a chest of doors. This time, the ‘s’ is silent. Reappearing to tickle the poor dog and laugh about it. And now, back to the Joe show. He’s also gained the ability to hiccup helium balloons. Magic is allowing him to create an element out of nothing. I’m starting to see why Muggles aren’t allowed to know about these things. And here I just thought that magic types were dicks.

Joe tries to hold the hiccups in, but this just makes the balloon materialize in his stomach. He goes flying through the air, just as P.B. has locked Charles on the other side of the door. While the bigger dog demands to be let in, Joe crashes into the rabbit and they both go back out the door. When Charles gets out from under it, he finds P.B. somehow got himself wrapped up in the Hindu rope. Rather than risk giving him a new weapon, Charles takes the wrapped rabbit and puts in in a couple locked boxes. (One of which has a color-changing lock. I think it’s magic?)

Joe hiccups again, and Charles worriedly watches the resulting balloon. His fears are warranted, as it pops into P.B. and he shoots Charles a final time. He tries to disappear once more, but Charles has had it. He stops the trick, and gives the proto-bunny a punch. He is a boxer, after all.

Favorite Part: During P.B.’s first trick, he looks in Charles’s ear as part of his showmanship. Completely innocent and naive, Charles returns the favor.

Personal Rating: 3. As entertaining as magic shows can be, I can’t help but remember that I’m just being lied to. Animation is always very honest with me. That’s why it’s the only friend I have.

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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.

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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.

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Sniffles and the Bookworm

“Yeeeaaah?”

Supervision by Charles M. Jones; Story by Rich Hogan; Animation by Robert McKimson; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on December 2, 1939.

Sniffles has taken refuge in a book shop. It’s got everything one needs; books and shelter. While napping, the second half of the title pops out of a row of books. He’s terrified to see a new creature and flees for help. Sniffles isn’t too bothered by the little guy. His smile suggests he finds him cute. This is their first meeting, so they’ll have a great story to tell each other’s future offspring.

The ‘worm knocks on a book because books are basically stasis pods that house their major characters. He’s scared, sure, but he’s an intellectual and knows a mouse when he sees one. He chooses the Pied Piper to aid him. That guy ain’t afraid of no rodent and walks through the repeating background section of the store to rid the store of vermin. I’m sorry Sniffles, but it is what you are.

It’s then that the insect’s gestures hit him: those weren’t gestures that suggest a small mouse. They were suggesting a big mouse! Or at least a small woodchuck. He’s going to need some help! He chooses a viking. From a history book? Does this mean you could summon anybody from an encyclopedia of famous people and make some kind of extraordinary league? I think Amelia Earhart, Gregor Mendel, and Osamu Tezuka would be nigh unstoppable. Your move, pestilence.

As the three advance, Sniffles follows behind as casually jaunty as can be. When the Bookworm realizes this, he runs over his aides to hide. They follow suit, and once round the corner, finally get a look at the beast. They’re a little miffed about B.W. exaggerating again. You should have seen what happened when he looked in a mirror for the first time. The piper decides to jam with Sniffles and provides him with his own pipe. This gets the nursery rhyme characters singing. But they can shut up now. Is this place telling me I can purchase a four volume set of Porky Pig books? I’ll sell anyone to slavery for that!

B.W. also joins in the festivities once he gets a horn of his own. Now this place is jivin’! There’s no corner of the store our music can’t penetrate! And unfortunately, Frankenstein’s monster doesn’t seem too pleased to be awoken. Really woke up boxy today, too. Like Minecraft Steve spliced himself with a moai. He takes some time getting to everyone, but once he does, everyone flees. (That viking stole Sniffles’s nose!)

As the monster reaches for the Bookworm, Sniffles can’t help shouting out “Stop!” Why, the monster never realized someone would ever challenge him! He chases after the mouse. Sniffles gets rid of him by tripping him over the side of the counter. He’s fictional, so that shouldn’t have hurt him. It was very humane. Finally, Sniffles can go back to resting. The hole B.W. made earlier is gone, leading me to wonder if this was supposed to be a dream.

Maybe it wasn’t, as when the Bookworm pops out again, he gives Sniffles a smooch. Or maybe he’s more friendly in real life? I’ve found most insects are. Those wasps were really swell gals once I decided to not swat them.

Favorite Part: I like how the ‘worm looks when he’s “running” for help. Looks like how scared pancakes do it.

Personal Rating: 2. This isn’t one of their better “book to life” shorts. Barely any unique characters doing anything. The most fun Chuck’s team does is inserting their bosses’ names onto the background books. At least the Bookworm is still pretty cute.

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Dog Gone Modern

*Whimper, whimper, whine*

Supervision by Charles M. Jones; Story by Rich Hogan; Animation by Phil Monroe; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on January 14, 1939.

The first appearance of Charles and Joe! If you don’t know who they are, shame on you for not reading any of my previous posts! No, don’t bother looking for any links. It’s not really a punishment if I provide an easy out now is it? If this is genuinely your first time here, I apologize.

There’s an open house that has a unique twist: it’s one of those electronic does-it-itself types that basically does all the living for you. It’s easy, but boring. But easy, so I’d buy it. And hey, open house means open to any species! And if dogs want to see if they’re a good match, I say let them. People aren’t supposed to judge humans who want to remain single, so why can’t dogs get the same treatment? If they can afford it, it’s theirs’!

Charles and Joe decide they might as well take a look. They’re a little spooked that the door opens via electronic eye. There’s a sign right there, you two. Just look to your left! And Charles? Please stop turning a darker shade of brown. You’re not an octopus. And don’t think I don’t notice that white ear, Joe! Honestly, you’re both too old to do these kind of things in public. Maybe you aren’t responsible enough to be homeowners. Take the free tour and get lost.

They manage to figure the door out and enter. Joe is definitely scared, but tries to play things cool. They both jump a bit when a recorded voice welcomes them to this house of tomorrow. They’re free to press any of the buttons they find, as they will start a demonstration of one of the many functions the place provides. Just be careful around the electronic neuterer. It’s still too aggressive. Joe pushes the first button he comes across: the one for the automatic sweeper. It just needs a reason to be called, so the house gets some cigar ash on the ground.

The vaguely humanoid sweeper works wonders. We like to call her “Electronic interior aide” or “Elia” for short. She does her thing, and goes back to her closet, which relieves the dogs. Things without faces aren’t relatable. Joe opts to push another button, this one labeled as “Automatic Control”, but the sign changes when he attempts. Now saying, “I wouldn’t touch that, chum.” Joe is upset, and this proves that at least he can read. Why didn’t you read that electronic eye sign? What and what aren’t you guys capable of?

Charles has made his way to the kitchen and decides to see the electric dish washer in action. He can read too. Maybe it’s this house. It raises the I.Q.’s of all inside it. That makes sense, right? The procedure goes off without a hitch. The dishes are washed, dried, and ready for use. Back with Joe, he decides to hit the switch regardless of warnings. Now saying “O.K. buddy, you asked for it.” the house… opens a panel. Well, what do you expect from about twenty seconds of build-up? Most of which was off screen. Wait, why am I defending such a lame payoff? Because it successfully scared Joe.

Darting into the kitchen, Joe gets the door to smack Charles into the washers grasp. Sucks for the big guy, but at least its gentle enough. Joe then laughs, but I’m not entirely convinced its at his brother/boyfriend/husband/good friend. It looks like he’s amused by the device labeled, “Napkin Folder.” I bet it is the former, but Chuck’s guys really should have made the off screen Charles exist in a different direction. Speaking of the folder, Joe pushes it in his mirth and ends up in a drawer. He doesn’t like it in there. The real napkins make fun of him.

He runs for it as best as he can, knocking Charles back into the dish washer clutches. Too bad that one was operated by a flip-switch. It’ll just keep going and going until it runs out of juice. And I don’t think future houses have that kind of problem. Joe got himself free from the napkin ring by crashing into an ornamental pot. Elia returns, even though her button wasn’t pressed this time. She’s evolving! She proves how advanced she is by making the conscious choice to sweep her debris under the rug and make sure no one caught her. Give her a face and I might be desperate enough to court her!

Joe then finds the best device this shack has to offer: a bone dispenser. He can’t enjoy himself, because it landed on the floor and Elia takes it away. (I saw your torso change color too, missy.) While chasing her, Joe knocks Charles into the washer once more. Can dogs prune? Elia takes refuge in her closest and knocks the pup into an electronic music maker. It looks like a piano with arms, but it has other instruments. And scary heads that sing along. Wanna see my impression of this house? I’m the automatic bowel releaser!

Joe gets knocked around by the instruments and ends up launched into a vase. Once on the floor he realizes who’s coming, and darts off. Guess who he knocks back into what? Wait. Instead, consider this: Elia is out of her closest! Joe finds the bone she stole and takes it back. She isn’t about to let him get away with this, so Joe runs again. Dogs are good at that. He ends up on a rug that flies around the house. Because future. You won’t even need to use an escalator to reach your second story anymore.

Charles has gotten himself free again, and this time tries to skedaddle when he hears Joe’s approach. He gets scooped up on the rug, and both end up landing in the garbage disposal. Don’t worry! The future ones aren’t blenders hidden in your sink. They’re just chutes that lead to the cans. Elia shows up, knowing her target would end up here, but Joe kills her with a hammer to her “head.” He can now enjoy his bone. Nope! Charles has been through the wringer more today, so he keeps it for himself. All that and he’s bigger too!

Favorite Part: The pups have been making dog noises the whole picture. It catches you off guard when Joe laughs like a Mel.

Personal Rating: 2. It’s cute, gotta give it that. But Charles got stuck in a running gag that I don’t think needed to reach a fourth go-around. I like cute Chuck. I adore actually humorous Chuck.

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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.

Frustration at its finest.

Rating: 3.