Category: Cartoons from the 40’s

My personal favorite decade from Warner Bros. The majority of my favorites came from this era. (It was the last one where we still had Avery and Clampett)

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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.

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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!

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Calling Dr. Porky

“This’ll fix you up.”

Porky knows the bear facts.

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.

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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.

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A Feather in his Hare

“Oh, Harriet! Here we go again!”

Them screwballs.

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’.

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The Egg Collector

“You got that way, and I’ll go this way.”

My word! A bird! (egg)

Supervision by Charles M. Jones; Story by Robert Givens; Animation by Rudolf Larriva; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on July 20, 1940.

Egg collecting is a hobby I’ve never tried to understand. Actually, I’ve never heard of it outside of cartoons and museums. If that strikes you as fun and you’re not killing any unborn animals, go nuts. I’ll continue to collect Looney Tunes merchandise. Whoever holds the record for the most, please send it to me after you die. I’m just presuming I’m more of a fan than you are.

Sniffles has found a book on the titular topic in the bookstore where his friend lives. In what is the norm around here, this isn’t the friend’s first picture. This friend is a bookworm known as The Bookworm, who looks closer to the real thing than you’d think, seeing as he has limbs. He doesn’t talk, and is figiteraly and liguravely spineless. He’s cute though. Little glasses, droopy cheeks, bow-tie and collar, and little yellow gloves. Just what you’d expect a cartoon bookworm to look like.

The page Sniffles is on says that for amateur egg collectors, a good place to start is with some kind of fusion of ‘great horned’ and ‘barn’ owl: The Great Barn Owl. (Noctua janus.) It’s a good starting choice, because it won’t gut you like a cassowary or projectile excrete on you like a penguin. Nah, these nocturnal birds are pretty near harmless, feeding mostly on small rodents. Sniffles doesn’t know that word, nor the bookworm. (Wisest insect indeed!)

Sniffles figures a rodent must be a flower of some sort. And while it’s just a cute bit, I actually really approve of stories where animals don’t use the names we give them. Why would they? Especially the ones who were named by cruel types:

Fathead Sculpin
Pigbutt Worm
Stink Badger
Goose

And flower isn’t such an uneducated guess. Rodent sounds a bit like rhododendron if you’re drunk/lobotomized, and if the bird is harmless because of its diet, that means it shouldn’t eat aspiring egg collectors. Sniffles doesn’t even act like a rodent. I’ve never seen him gnaw.

The Bookworm just happens to know where one of these owls resides: that church across the street. Sniffles is game so the two head over. But as everyone knows, the inside is the scariest part of any building. The insect isn’t at all ashamed to admit he’s horrified. Sniffles’s scowl makes him change his mind. The rodent says they will split up. Booky agrees, but walks backwards to stay as close to Sniff as possible. With his back turned, he doesn’t notice when Sniffles takes a detour.

A rewarding detour! Sniffles finds the egg. Freshly hatched, so he doesn’t realize he only grabbed half of the shell at first. Upon finding the owlet, Sniffles thinks, “Bonus! Who knew this hobby included free snacks?” So, why do you really think he chooses to child abduct? Even if it’s as harmless as you believe, that’ll just make you look all the worse. Do you really think being a merciless bass turd is going to convince the W.B. to renew your contract? And how’s B.W. doing?

He bumped into father owl. Great shot of the bird eyeing him. Would’ve terrified my childhood a$$. As he thinks things over, he starts absentmindedly plucking feathers. As if papa isn’t pissed enough. The Bookworm suddenly remembers what kind of animals have feathers, and sheepishly tries putting them back, sweating tubs, rather than buckets. When Sniffles finds him, he tells how he got the goods. The owl responding to his comments with tranquil fury. Somehow not seeing the massive bird, Sniffles goes on to insult it as well. It was big, fat, stupid, dumb, old, and a nincompoop. Wait… his little buddy doesn’t talk…

Sniffles finally takes note of the painfully obvious. Mr. Owl delivers another bombshell: Sniffles IS a rodent. And don’t think that Bookworm is exempt from his wrath, he’s also on the menu. How many licks will it take to get to their centers? As he goes in for the kill, Junior reveals himself. As any good parent would, dad is distracted by the “birth” of his child. Relieved to see the little fella is healthy, unharmed, and his. This gives the other their chance to escape. Sniffles grabs the Bookworm and flees back to the store. Now a much wiser rodent.

During the peril, the bookworm fainted. Coming to, he has a heart attack to see the owl is still standing over him. But not really. It’s just the illustration in the book. So you saw that earlier, right Sniff? And you still couldn’t recognize the real thing? I’ve never seen a south american tapir outside of photos, but I think, I THINK, I’d still be able to tell when I was looking at the real thing!

Favorite Part: That shot of when they’re looking up into the church’s attic. Boy is that eerie! You’re just waiting for something to leap out of the darkness/twitch slightly in the distance making you unsure if you really saw something move.

Personal Rating: 2. This is barely different from the previous owl encounter. If the insect wasn’t so adorable, I’d give this a one.

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The Henpecked Duck

“Say, is there a magician in the house?”

Supervision by Robert Clampett; Story by Warren Foster; Animation by John Carey; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on August 30, 1941.

Everybody wants a divorce these days! It’s almost as if romance was a myth all along. I mean, I’ve had my suspicions, but this isn’t about me. The proceedings take place in the court of inhuman relations. Naturally, I’d expect no fairer judge than Porky. Anything he declares just, I do. First case: the duck family. Daffy approaches as miserable as one can be. This must be some screw-up for him to take things this seriously. The maybe soon to be ex-Mrs. approaches determinedly. She really wants that divorce!

Porky asks that she explain why she’d want to part with such a catch. Sure, he’s a bit… or rather he is Daffy, but it’s not like he’d be abusive. Please elaborate. This began when she was going to visit her mother. She and her husband were expecting their first child, so Daffy was going to be incubating them. It already seems like things weren’t working out in Daffy’s favor. Mrs. Duck threatens him bodily harm, doubts his ability to stay focused, and the brow-beaten guy can only reply with a quiet “Yes, m’love.”

Until she’s out of the house and he feels like he can act how he really feels. Mockingly repeating his latest catchphrase and making faces. Revealing she was still within earshot, he returns to the nest on his best behavior. Yeah, I think the poor dear needs to escape such a shrewish wench. Just because we’re guys doesn’t mean the marriage always fails because of us! The flashback keeps going, so I guess Daffy told her this part. Given what we’ve seen, I’m surprised she isn’t trying to embellish it more in her favor. “Yes, Daffy starting to abort our duckling via anvil. Also, he was giving cigarettes to minors.”

Well, Daffy by name also means daffy by nature. It wasn’t long before he was bored of sitting still and starting playing around with the egg. He smashes it between his palms, but there’s no trace of shell, albumen or embryo. It’s disappeared! Then with some awesome magic words: “Hocus-pocus, flippity flam, a-razzamatazz and alakazam!”, the egg reappears without a scratch on it! Look at Daffy’s reaction! Even he is amazed that this worked. Then he… steps out of the scene? Is that right? He clearly steps down onto… nothing. Is it suggesting he came out of the picture to entertain on stage? What am I missing? I just want my life to be complete!

Well, if you can do something once, logic says you can do it again. (I’ve actually died half a dozen times. You just haven’t noticed.) Nope! No dice! That egg is gone! Trapped in the space between spaces. What a place to be born! If that’s even a possibility, of course. Daffy panics. Sure, the wife won’t be pleased, but that was his child too! Over and over, he repeats his chant, saying ‘alakazam’ so much that you could mistake him for a Pokemon, but he gets no results. And time isn’t feeling particularly kind today. It continues to keep moving forward. Time is mean and I don’t like it.

Oh, crap! Look who is actually returning! I was sure she was having a beautiful rest, and deciding she’d never go back to her nest. Daffy needs an egg to fool her, but the closest thing available is a doorknob. As long as it stays pointed down, she’ll never be able to tell. Duck eggs are always as cold as a brass monkey! Where did you think the phrase ‘cold duck’ came from? It rolls over just as he’s sitting, and mama catches on very fast. That brings us to today. Now, I can take her side.

Daffy pleads with Porky to give him just one more chance. I don’t think I’ve made my feelings on Porky clear enough in the fourteen years I’ve been doing this. *ahem* PORKY IS SUCH A STAND UP GUY THAT HE IS WILLING TO LET THE PHSYCOPATH HAVE ANOTHER SHOT AT WHAT HE FAILED TO DO HALF A BILLION TIMES!!! BECAUSE HE BELIEVES IN HIM AND WANTS TO SEE TRUE LOVE PREVAIL!!!! ALSO, HE’D SHARE HIS LUNCH WITH YOU!!!

I’m cool. Listen to me. Anyway, Daffy gives it one final shot, but this time he adds a little something: a prayer. And that was the missing ingredient. Of course! God forsakes all magic that does not come from him, and was waiting to be asked for forgiveness! (My sister just became a missionary. Hats off to her, if you please.) The couple makes up, and the egg hatches. All is beautiful, all is well.

Favorite Part: When Daffy sits on the pointy-side up doorknob, he makes a face. A face that says he didn’t know he was about to be goosed.

But that doesn’t mean he minded.

Personal Rating: 3

And of all the years to not be invited to San Diego Comic-con as a guest! I can’t believe I missed out on seeing the reveal trailer of “Coyote Vs Acme”! Me! The Internet’s looniest fan! I’m that. Believe me. If I don’t see that footage by next week, I’ll… I’ll… Gosh. What will I do?

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Bone, Sweet bone

“Where’s my dinosaur vertebrae?”

Good old Shep.

Directed by Arthur Davis; Animation by Don Williams, Emery Hawkins, Basil Davidovich, and J.C. Melendez; Story by William Scott and Lloyd Turner; Layouts by Don Smith; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc. A Merrie Melody released on May 22, 1948.

The local museum has some great fossil exhibits on display. Just now, one of the employees is putting together the latest specimen: a carnivorous sauropod. Man, there are so many secrets that the past continues to yield. What could be next? Jurassic cattle? Triassic chiropterans? Cambrian cetaceans? We’ll never know everything. Join me in being sad. Misery loves company, they say.

The scientist looks to be part of the Fudd family tree. But he sounds like a perpetually whiny Bugs. I kinda want to kick him. Okay, you got me. I really want to kick him. Of course, maybe he’d sound a little less brow-beaten if his bones weren’t constantly snatched away. Shep, a little dog, is the culprit. I don’t know if this is “Take your animal to work day.” (My favorite non-existent day.) or if the guy is even Shep’s dad. But you’re a man of science, you should know better than to let a dog have access to meat bones. I was lying when I called them fossils because it attracts patrons.

The man find his last piece missing, and Shep admits to the theft. He leads back to his burying place, but its already been dug up by a bulldog who’s on his way. The scientist demands Shep get it back because… he hates Shep? I don’t see why you can’t make an attempt, aside from the plot demanding you stay out of this. And if Shep doesn’t comply? The man plans on putting HIS bones on display. That’s gruesome! You better not be his dad, or I’m taking him away from you.

Shep likes his bones where they are, thank you, and sets out on the quest. Once he’s gone, the professor finds the missing bone in his pocket. Huh. Would’ve figured that would be the final punchline. Crisis averted, he tries to call Shep back, but ultimately decides exercise is good for dogs and doesn’t bother. So… the tension’s gone right? Why should I care if Shep gets the other bone back? And why did he say he took it? Did he just think he did? Why would the man have a spare bone on him? Do you always bring one to work?

Shep sneaks into the bulldog’s yard as quiet as a louse. Too bad he can’t change the color of more than his nose, or he could be as loud as he wants AND invisible. Utilizing cotton and lullabies, he keeps bullsy from waking and takes the bone back. He’s caught before he can make his escape and is kicked like an American football out of the yard. He next tries digging under the ground, grabbing the bone that way. Again, the bulldog catches on. He swipes the bone back, then baseball bats Shep out again.

The only altitude left is the one at telephone line-level. Shep sneaks over and opts to Mary Poppins his way down via umbrella. Operating by Toon logic, that is, whatever is funniest, it operates by real world logic and he drops like a stone.  (Mary Pop-rocks.) Be the ball, Shep. You haven’t tried basketball yet. Only two more and you can be the O.G. Airbud. Nah, he’s got more self-respect than that. He’s going to try the “brains” method.

He makes a large bone out of plaster, and stuffs it with T.N.T. Then, he walks in front of his adversary with what looks like an awesome prize. Amazingly, the other dog is willing to trade. (Or he is just trying to keep Shep from realizing he switched the two, but I like my answers more than correct ones.) The explosion doesn’t hinder him much, and he rockets after the thief. Shep hastily nails some boards over the gap in the fence, but the bulldog knows all the tricks of his yard. Like how the fence is basically just one big door anybody can easily open.

Shep flees back into the yard and retries the strategy on the other side. The bulldog is surprised he didn’t learn this old trick, as he’s clearly a new dog. He runs after, not noticing Shep also built a brick wall. Bricks and mortar are always more powerful than gunpowder. Always. I said al-ways, understand? Shep even puts a lily in the bigger dog’s paws to prove he died. Shep finally brings the bone back to the museum. The scientist finally reveals the truth: Shep got boned. The poor dog learns to speak, just so he can tell us that yeah, he’s a smidgen upset about the whole thing.

Favorite Part: The bulldog inexplicably having corresponding outfits to the sporty ways he evicts the intruder. Dogs are always cute when dressed up. Always. (Etc.)

Personal Rating: 2. No, really, guys. Why reveal the twist so early? Instead of hoping Shep will atone for a mistake, we just end up feeling bad that he’s getting beat up. I mean, yeah, he got back a bone that I guess was rightfully is, but if that bulldog ever comes back to life, he’s coming for Shep’s head. If he doesn’t, Shep still has canine blood on his paws.

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Saddle Silly

“Where the heck am I?”

Supervision by Charles M. Jones; Animation by Phil DeLara. A Merrie Melody released on November 8, 1941.

The Pony Express. A profession that was no doubt, exciting and boring; miserable and fulfilling. And probably very uncomfortable. Remember the last time you rode a horse? Now imagine that for over 24 hours. But until we get telephones invented, it must be done. Because it’s ‘take your audience to work’ day, we’re going to follow one of these riders to see what it’s really like out there in the real world.

I feel like calling our rider ‘Rider-man’. Because he does whatever a rider can and probably more, but ‘Rider+man’ makes it sound like there are two of him. He’s got stuff to deliver, but let’s not kid about who’s really doing all the work here. Good old horses. Where would humanity be without them? And who would take their spot on the Lunar calendar? My money is on either the phoenix or the giant panda.

Expecting one horse/pony to cross the entire continent is ludicrous and cruel. Time to trade off at the nearest station. The stallion chosen looks familiar. I wonder if he has family in the army/racetrack? The equines pass the parcel+rider and with fresh speed, Rider-Man rides again! Up ahead, a hitchhiker tries to bum a ride. Seeing as how there isn’t any seats available, they run past with the wind in their wake. (And like three dogs because there’s an adoption center across the street.)

With the two focused on the man they wouldn’t help, they fail to notice they are running off a ledge into the Colorado River. I’m resisting a “sea horse” pun because its fresh water. They attempt walking out, but walk off another ledge into deeper water. I don’t get why we’re holding on a shot of the bubbles. Or why they suddenly get bigger and pop into ‘splash’ sound affects. If I ask for an explanation, would my readers be so kind as to leave comments? What if I brought up my depression?

Rider-Man ends up being the one to drag his horse out of the water. You can lead him away but… it’ll make him drink? (No wonder you guys don’t want to waste your time with feedback.) They pass little Hitchy again, but this time the horse has learned to keep his eyes on the trail. He notices the upcoming cliff, and stops short. Too short. The momentum flings Rider-Man from the saddle. But don’t worry! Once he sees he’s riding nothing through practically the same, he turns back. It’s just one of those occupational hazards that comes with the job.

After passing the little man again, (He’s a running gag even though he’s standing still. Wocka wocka!) The team enters “Indian” territory. But there’s only one person living there. Moe Hican, in his salad days before striking oil, chases after them. I wouldn’t be too worried about him. He looks like a Sioux version of Pvt. Snafu. (Snaf-sioux?) There’s a warpath under construction up ahead, so Rider-man has to turn and fight. But his horse has no desire to be a meat shield. Love his smug “you can’t make me” smile. But R.M. can, and knocks him out.

Took too long. Moe is on the other side of the meat shield. Rider-Man has to flee on foot. Horses never stay down for long, and he joins his partner in fleeing into the nearby fort. Safe at last! Even better, this is also where they were supposed to be delivering to. But the only thing in the parcel is the hitchhiker. He’s thankful for the lift, but just had to ditch the mail with Moe. This bag ain’t big enough for the two of ’em!

Favorite Part: I’m always impressed that the writers can think of new disclaimer gags. This one is thanking the Pony Express riders, who had no hand in helping make the cartoon. That’s some scrumptious sarcasm.

Personal Rating: 2

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Cross Country Detours

“I don’t care what you say; I’m cold.”

Supervision by Fred Avery; Story by Rich Hogan; Animation by Paul Smith; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on March 16, 1940.

Ready for another dose of Avery gags? We’re giving you all we can this week as this short is just over nine minutes long! Egad! You’ll be gagging on such a gaggle of gags! That we can guarantee. What we can’t, is actually showing any animal life/scenic wonders of the U.S.A. But we will attempt, and that’s really all you should ask of anybody. What all of this means is: its not entirely “cross-country.” We’ll just stick to the west.

Starting off in California, at Yosemite National Park. (And just five years too early for a Sam cameo.) The daunting task of almost ten minutes of gags is already too scary, so we get a repeat of the human trying to feed an animal they shouldn’t. I think it was better before. Not just because I’d seen that one first, but I think a monkey violently throwing a bag of peanuts at a woman is more humorous than a bear hitting a man on the head. Check my math if you want, I’m correct.

There’s also a “shy deer” who flirts, (Somebody is in to that.) and a forest ranger always on the lookout for startings of fires. (Insert a joke about California and its fires here, but only if it’s tasteful.) He catches a scumhole tossing out a cigar and rushes to save both the forest and the smoke. He can’t afford better on his salary. Then, to Utah’s Bryce Canyon to see a natural bridge. It’s so gross when Nature doesn’t put her gums in a proper receptacle.

At the time of release, going to Alaska is technically leaving the country. Even though Fred already made a picture here, it wasn’t over nine minutes, so he had to cram some of its leftover jokes in. The “running” joke is a Husky seeing a road sign pointing out the miles to California. He sets out. We’d give him a ride, but we’ve already been there. And did anyone else see that smudge in the sky? That’s the beginning of climate change, I’m sure.

Back in the generic states, (which doesn’t mean boring; just the opposite of specific) we are shown footage of a bobcat stalking a baby quail. With adult plumage so the dumb audience won’t say something stupid like “That don’t look like a quail. Where’s the topknot?”  (I’ve held baby quail. I would know what they look like.) The narrator tries his darnedest to make us feel bad that Nature is hardcore survival all the time. If the chick isn’t eaten, the cat could die of starvation. Not everyone can be saved. But don’t worry, the Bob’ can’t go through with it. (Let’s give Mel an Oscar for this role. There really should be a “Best Voice Actor” category.)

Down to New Mexico. We see that dog again. Must’ve gotten lost, as getting here on a trip to Cali is a serious cross country detour. (Is that what the title meant?) But tell me narrator, why would his master be in Cali? What kind of a sicko just abandons a dog in Alaska? I need a real good gag to wash the taste out of my mouth. (Ironic choice of words, I know.) And the short delivers. Taking a very natural basic thing like a lizard shedding its skin, and making her sexy so she can do a strip-tease. (What are you censoring? She has no breasts!) It’s a great joke, but it makes me sad to know there are now people in this world who first saw it in “Rubberhose Rampage.” Probably the most creative, laziest-made game, I’ll admit, but give Avery’s unit the credit! All of it!

Speaking of lizards, the next bit is so scary, that the screen will be split into different age ranges. Adults can watch the gila monster on the left, while the children can watch Goldilocks‘s sister recite poetry on the right. Because heaven forbid we treat kids like people, and prepare them for a dangerous world full of reptiles that could possibly hurt you. Goldenrodlocks’s parents knew better, and she scares the beast away. Poor little guy.

Now on to Arizona and the Grand Canyon. A tourist tries to get an echo here, but fails. Good thing there’s always an operator on standby. And beavers build dams. Not beaver dams, but human dams. And they work great! See all that water? They dam it all. And the dog finally reaches California. He’s exhausted, but still makes the final stretch up to the northern part of it to finally reach paradise. Large, LARGE trees. And they’re all his. So if you know anything about dogs, then you know he’s gonna be bored very soon. Worth the trip?

Favorite Part: A frog croaking the hard way. Darkly funny on its own, but made better by the cartoon apologizing…

For the pun!

Personal Rating: 3