“G-G-G-Guess what we’re gonna have for dinner t-t-tomorrow night?”
Directed by Robert Clampett. Released in 1940.
Before we begin, I’d like to say a few words before my words. I have mentioned the following before, but I don’t know how many people read my older posts, so I’ll reiterate here: I think suicide can be funny when it’s used as a joke in media. Now, in real life, suicide is never the answer. I’m not a psychiatrist or even really that good at being sensitive, so you probably shouldn’t take this opinion seriously, but to me, killing yourself proves you really don’t give a f*ck about the people in your life. They are the ones who really suffer in these situations. Forever wondering if it was their fault. If they could have helped. And since we have no proof of an afterlife, they don’t even have the guarantee they’ll see you again.
But in cartoons, it’s totally fine and often very funny. (To me.) Remember in “Rabbit Romeo” when Bugs forced a goldfish to kiss Millicent? It killed itself and that was funny. As long as you ensure that the situation the character is in isn’t too sad/serious, I’m not going to complain. I’m sorry for making you read all of this, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea when I laugh at the suicide that takes place in this short.
One night at Porky’s place, he is reading his paper and sees that fishing season will begin tomorrow. He excitedly gets decked in his angling gear. (Personally, I find fishing one of the most boring and yet barbaric wastes of time.) He lets his cat know of tomorrow’s dinner by imitating a fish. To most, that is simply a humorous picture, but to someone with icthiophobia, that is the stuff of nightmares. (NotthatIwouldknow.) The cat is so excited he bounces around the house. (Why does Porky have an empty fish bowl?) He even kisses a mouse. This action makes the canary of the house pull a gun on himself, since he’s now seen everything. (Fun-ny. And I’ll thank all of you who have suicidal thoughts to stop ruining comedy for me.)
They head to bed. Porky counts sheep, but his cat (who is sleeping in a drawer, because there’s no point wasting money on a bed for an animal that won’t even use it.) counts fish. When you have an obsession, it’s near impossible to sleep while thinking about it. No surprise, the cat hits 1,000,000 and is still awake. He takes something for insomnia: A hammer to the head. The next day, pig and cat each have cast lines. (The cat’s line tied to his tail.) A flying fish approaches. That’s not a freshwater fish, but am I really complaining about that, while the fish is literally flying? Yes. I just don’t want people to go to a lake and expect flying fish. I know about fish.
The cat takes a swipe and the fish is down. Not really. This fish is like if Daffy had gills and fins. He jumps around laughing hysterically and talking with a weird vibrating voice. (I like him. He’s silly.) Porky seems to get him on his hook, but the fish just does a yo-yo imitation. (Why not try fly fishing? I know about fish.) The fish sticks one of his pectoral fins out of the water to imitate a shark. Porky falls for it, and warns the cat. The cat is a moron and doesn’t know that sharks have been found in freshwater. (I know about fish.) He calls the fish’s bluff only to find it really is a shark. (I don’t really get how that happened.) The cat runs off into the distance much to the shark’s confusion. “Pussycats is the cwaiziest peoples.”
Personal Rating: 3