This is the time period where Looney Tunes got there start! Things may have gotten off to a slow start, but they soon became the envy of studios everywhere!
Supervision by Robert Clampett; Animation by John Carey and Dave Hoffman; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on November 4, 1939.
When you first start out at something, you suck at it. Very few exceptions to this rule. Maybe Mozart, and most likely Mel. Probably even more than I care to list, really. Much as I wish Porky could be included, the evidence of the the two piper films he starred in contradict him. Spoilers, I guess.
The cartoon starts with the legal disclaimer that all rats featuring will only coincidentally look like your cousin’s husband. (Yeah, as if any human ever was that cute.) The news of the day is how the Pied Piper rid the town of rats, and was nice enough to not kidnap any children. But you know what? Amusing as that paper and its puns were, it was false news. There is still at least one rodent running rampant. He’s clearly a mouse, despite what the short says. Are you really going to doubt me: a zoologist without a degree?
Porky lays on the music, and tries to lure (we’re calling him) Rochfort to a trap. He stops short at the last moment, calling us crazy to think he’d go there. Now, this could be another instance of a mouse, being unfairly and unexplainedly immune to the tunes. Or, you can believe what I want to believe: he snaps out of it because Porky stopped playing and he has awesome reaction speed. That’s the correct theory. He’s also smart enough to recognize the threat and break the pipe. Or is it an oboe? Actually, what exactly are the pipes that pipers pipe? Because gift or not, I’m not allowing BAGpipes in my twelve days of Christmas.
Things call for a better mousetrap, but you can’t build those anymore. Nature can supply though. Just select your favorite snake, hawk, weasel, owl, bullfrog, or scorpion to do the job for you. No takers? Good thing there’s no shortage of animals that eat mice! How about a cunning raccoon? Or a beautiful gila monster? A misunderstood tarantula? Or I guess you could choose a crummy cat. But wouldn’t you rather use anything else? As a zoologist without a degree I can’t imagine Felis catus is the best choice for anything other than a meal.
Wow. A whole paragraph about nothing. I’m improving. Porky’s feline, Slapsy Catsy, (no relation) isn’t really that great at catching mice. He’s afraid of the little things. A phobia I just could not understand, but I won’t mock him since he validated my claims of that not being a rat. In fact, that opening text promised me ratS, plural. Lying isn’t very nice. Neither is eating cats, but that’s what Porky said I get to do if Slapsy doesn’t put forth some effort.
A small chase unfolds. Did you know that cats have the weakest skulls of the animal kingdom? If it makes sudden impact with a wall, the cat dies nine times. Porky lends credence to my theory of him being Jesus, by forcing the cat to live by shoving his ninth soul back into its flesh prison. Then, it’s time for a dose of kat-nip. Put that away. No reward until the job is done right. (Unless it’s 4/20.) Wait, my mistake. I really thought I typed “cat nip” earlier. This stuff is steroids on steroids. Not only building the cat’s muscles, but returning every life back for round two. Someone is definitely gon’ die now!
And once the scuffle is over, Rochfort comes out wearing his new pelt of genuine ermine. Look pal, I put up with it when Elmo said that, on account of him being a moron. You should either admit you know better, or stop pretending like Slapsy only killed your roommate.
Favorite Part: Slapsy cowering in fear. Growing women legs turns to cringe to mirth.
Personal Rating: 2. If you couldn’t tell by the name I gave, Rochfort could be seen as offensive today. The jokes aren’t the funniest and there’s a shocking lack of Porky. Inexcusable.
Supervision by Ben Hardaway; Animation by Rollin Hamilton and Jack King; Music by Norman Spencer. A Looney Tune released on March 5, 1935.
Like a good many of you, I hate dentists. I’ve never been a fan of paying someone to hurt me, and considering any dental problems I’ve had only showed up after I started to take brushing seriously… it’s a scam. And who’s to blame for everything? God. It isn’t fair to make life so horrible that even the few things that can make it tolerable (sweets) end up hurting us. Isn’t it enough to make us fat?
That was an unnecessarily long amount of words ultimately saying: As if Buddy wasn’t that great a character before. At least he doesn’t start that way. He began as a simple fudge maker. He used the finest ingredients, all organic and natural. Cocoa, sugar, 42 and an egg. Oh, and a little cardboard for roughage. Such enticing smells have never before billowed out of a pot! And what smells better than chocolate? A dog. (I also would have accepted an anteater.) Alas, most, if not all, animals are kinda killed by ingesting the stuff. Eating it is the one advantage to being human.
Remember Towser? Buddy really loves that dog. The dog here is not Towser. His name is Bozo. If it wasn’t clear enough that Buddy hates this dog, he proves it by giving him some of the fudge. If there’s a small mercy, the dog only gets a couple pieces, because fudge is bad for a canine’s canines. Admittedly true, but if you ate sugar-infused mercury, I don’t think cavities would be your biggest concern. The real reason Buddy made candy? Brownie points. Or should I say Cookie points?
He gives his girl a call to let her know that he made her fudge, all by himself, so she should praise him and never leave him and it looks like fudge-making is the key to a stable relationship, huh? While he talks, Bozo, creature of instinct that he is, heads t’ward the fudge pan. And he devours it! I’m concerned, but also impressed. You ever try to eat more fudge than the free-sample slice offered in one sitting? It’s so rich, it’s not easy. Unless its melted. That makes it easier somehow. Science is still searching for the reason.
Luckily, my prophecy of his doom fails to pan out, but the toothache one doesn’t. Alerted to the pained yelps, (Which sounds kind of echoed to me.) Buddy returns to scold. Only thing to do now is remove the tooth. Oh, did you blink you when Buddy became a practitioner of the dental arts? You really need to start watching these shorts as I do: with double-sided tape that keeps my eyes open, and stuck to the screen. The tingle and headache means its working!
Pliers didn’t work? Maybe you should carve the the jaw open like a pumpkin. Nah, rather than take my advice, look to your calendar for your answers to life. Buddy’s has a dentist pictured on it highlighting why Buddy is inept: dentists use gas. (And no wonder Buddy decided to spend his day by a warm stove. That lousy Octember weather is almost as bad as Apriluary.) Too bad there isn’t any gas on hand- BUDDY! NO! I was half-joking about your dog hating! Yes folks, Buddy has decided to put his dog under via use of his house’s gas line. You know, even Satan thinks dog murder is too evil. You want to go to “extra-special hell”?
Never mind. Buddy heats his house with helium, so the dog just floats a bit. Good thing helium is hilarious in small doses, and logically, hilarious in large. Anyone want to huff a tank with me? Now that the pup has been properly prepared, Buddy can move on to the actual extraction. All toons swear by the method where you tie a string to your tooth and something else. Usually it’s a door, but Buddy chooses one of those whatever they are on his wall. Some sort of lighting fixture I presume? Bozo seems to think it’s a toy, and runs after it when Buddy throws it.
Budds decides to use the door after all. Bozo isn’t too keen on the idea, so Bud decides to calm his nerves by tying the string to his own tooth. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s also incredibly moronic. Like watching *insert whatever you like to hate here, the only things I could supply are way too opinionated to be funny*. Bozo catches sight of a cat in the house, and Buddy is taken along for the ride. The chase continues outside, and is only stopped when the cat races under Cookie’s hammock, with the two larger mammals crashing into her. She and Buddy look weird today. Too much fudge?
Buddy is pleased to see that the crash was a help after all, as Bozo’s tooth has been removed. Cookie is amused to see that Buddy’s tooth met the same fate. I hope you’re not surprised. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later.
Favorite Part: Bozo’s howls of pain prompt Buddy to tell him to “Shut up!” But he’s still on the line with Cookie soooo…
Personal Rating: 2, that’s barely earned. I don’t find the dog abuse funny in this picture. It’s barely saved by the fact that Bozo hardly reacts to the pain once Buddo gets involved, and the psychopath paying for his crime in the end.
Now watch this:
Don’t let such an awful fate befall the Tunes. Watch their new movie. Tell everyone you know to watch it. Buy their tickets if you must. All the early screening reviews I’ve heard say it’s wonderful. I’ll be going, obviously. But I’m only one me. All 117 of you who visit: spread the word. Don’t make the world more loony by being less Looney.
“I’m the rip-snorton’est, Edward Ever (sic) Horton’est, Charles Laughton’est, and you ain’t heard nort’in’nest lion in the whole world!”
Supervision by Isadore Freleng. Story by Tedd Pierce; Animation by Ken Harris; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on October 16, 1937.
It’s a first for this series! A “Melody” without a musical connection! Maybe it should stay this way…
There’s a mouse caught in a mousetrap. Thanks to maybe Bernice Hansen, I can never tell ’tis a buck or a doe. Fate’s been decent to me lately, I’ll let him/her/it decide. They’ve decided female. Since our mouse can’t free herself, she has to shout for aid. Unfortunately, that just attracts attention, and a hungry cat arrives on the scene. Good thing he always keeps sandwich fixin’s in the nearest crate. As is well known, when someone’s about to die, it’s customary to make them a sandwich.
Since they’re just the framing device for the short’s meat, I’ll not bother with names. But I will give kudos to the cat for not removing the mouse from the mousetrap, lest she has a chance to escape. She tries to change his mind on dinner by agreeing to do him a good turn in return for not killing her. And I guess freeing her is part of the bargain. The cat isn’t convinced that she could ever be of use to him, as he’s never heard the famous fable that concerned a mouse getting spared by a lion, and managing to save its life in return.
The mouse tells the tale. There was a lion that was a real bass, as most lions are. He lived in an area that nature couldn’t decide if it should be savanna or forest. He just called it a jungle for simplicity’s sake. His reputation was fierce enough to frighten off all the other animals who lived in this wacky biome. Including a bird that somebody finally realized didn’t belong on their farm. I’m just going to ignore it hiding its head underground via distraction. Look at that flamingo. Judging by his pallor, he’s not getting enough shrimp. If only he knew if he belonged here or not.
The local mouse in these parts gets… I guess I need to determine its identity too. This one will be male. So, HE gets his kicks by blowing a horn that sounds just like a lion. The animals flee again, but this time, the mammals decide to run further towards what could be their doom. Is it that hard to survive in this scientifically inaccurate locale? Be glad it’s not a taiga/coral reef. The lion isn’t amused by the mouse’s mockery, but his attention is almost instantly caught by a delicious aroma in the air.
There’s a roast chicken just being wasted behind him. He tells the mouse to vamoose, as he’s not worth the effort. The mouse promises to help him someday. The lion goes to grab the roast bird. It’s sitting in the middle of a bear trap, so he’s immune. But the man who set the tap, Frank Cluck, put in a fail safe in case he found something other than bears in Africa: a mousetrap that bursts through the bird and pinches the lion’s nose. But he’s also immune from that killing him. Frank Cluck needs a new tactic.
The next trap is a lamb tied to a tree. The lion needs a name so I can stop calling him ‘the lion’ again. For fun, let’s also name the mouse he met. For a switch-up, the Mouse can be named Leo. Logically, the lion is now Scorpius. (Not that Musculus doesn’t have a nice ring to it.) He can tell this is another trap, and turns to leave, but the lamb is quite the salesman. Even though his signs are misleading; he is NOT mutton yet. Whatever, Scorpius is eventually convinced and grabs him.
Instant boxing glove to the face! Now dazed, Scorpius is at the mercy of Frank who hogties him. He takes his prize to the circus. Such a shame that Leo couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain. Scorpius, once a king over all he saw, has been reduced to mere entertainment for the masses. It’s really quite sad. Scorpius, though as awesome as the featured quote says, isn’t too tough to cry. And guess what? Leo is right outside his cage! I guess he witnessed everything after all! He gnaws a hole out for the big cat, and they flee into the night.
The original mouse ends her story here, before she has to relate the part where the two are hunted by the entire country, and ultimately shot before getting back home. Good thing things have worked in her favor, as this cat is also moved to tears. He releases her, and the title comes true if her “sucker!” is any indication. Good thing the cat can reuse the bread.
Favorite Part: The fact that the mouse laughs as she is mustard-ed for the sandwich. It’s darkly funny, and adorably messed up.
Supervision by Isadore Freleng; Animation by Jack Carr and Riley Thompson; Music by Bernard Brown. A Merrie Melody released on April 11, 1936.
The place is the very creatively named Birdville. Not Aves Acres. Or Fowl Fields. Not even Ornithoid Oasis. It’s Birdville and the birds here are fairly human. They don’t wear pants because you never know when an egg needs to come out and can’t wait. The males just follow common courtesy. And whatever you do: don’t give any attention to the woodpecker streaker. That’s exactly what he wants. Why he can’t be more civilized is beyond me. Maybe woodpeckers are just screwy.
But life isn’t all birdbaths and seed bells here. There are the hangouts of the lowlifes. The thug thrushes, felon finches, and brute buntings. It’s that saloon over there. How low are the birds in there? They’ve stooped to stealing dance scenes from old pictures! At least they bothered to disguise half of themselves. But that’s only distraction for the crimes against nature they commit. Look at that head plumage change color! No doubt the work of Cuttlefish Chickadee!
The worst of them all is the blue one there, Spike. He’s got all the signs of your classic hoodlum: french shirt, dandy cap, a face mask that sometimes doesn’t reach all the way around his head, and Spike for a moniker. He’s had the basic life: born a softie, vowed to be a toughie, made it. And his tail feathers change color. Or, are they just very iridescent and seem to flash when the light hits them right? He doesn’t fear anybirdy. There’s a cop patrolling just outside, occasionally losing his badge, and turns around at blink-and-miss speeds. And Spike yanks him in to rough him up, before downing five shots of hooch. Since I don’t want to be on his bad side, I’ll note his collar disappearance as the last flub.
This saloon also happens to be right across the way from the bank. Spike looks at it like he had no clue it was even there. This the first time he’s visited during daylight hours? He gets his boys together to clean the place out. He gets to wait outside like bosses do. They get away, with the birds in blue (who aren’t bluebirds or bluejays) on their tail feathers. Are they driving on a sidewalk? Are there humans in this world? Or is this the same continuity “Peace on Earth” takes place in once the birds got sick of the squirrel’s preachy H.S.? (Human sh*t.)
We don’t see how, but the crooks get away. A moment of silence for the cops who no doubt got birdshot. They’re front page headliners now! But forget that! W.B. is expanding? Tubby Millar bought a home? And Freleng won an award? This paper predicts the future! There’s not a more rational explanation! Reward is placed at 500 worms. Okay, so, do they eat their currency? If they don’t, doesn’t it rot fast? And I notice you aren’t mentioning exactly what worms they are. You’re giving out soil nematodes, aren’t you?
The robbers are found because they were stupid enough to leave their car outside their birdhouse. Which is making me question the scale of this cartoon even more. The cop who finds the place looks about tanager size, but his backup are clearly on par with Elmer. What is canon! And why didn’t you leave your car in the woods and fly the loot here? You can fly, can’t you? That woodpecker could fly. And where is the rest of Spike’s spooks? Did he leave them for dead in the car chase? He’s a big cock now.
Gunfire is exchanged, but the drop is gotten on Spike when they shoot out the floor from under him. No, he can’t fly, he drops right into their clutches. Then how did he get up there? Let me guess, someone said your name backwards minus the ‘s’ and you lost your flight. (If you get that, you know I have a great sense of humor.) Superior numbers take him down, and he ends up being placed in his proper habitat, because he’s a jailbird. He’s already reforming. Just wait until his release.
Favorite Part: When the cops first fire at Spike in his liar, he proves how much of a big shot he is. He calmly fires back, with an almost bored look on his face. But when they shoot his flipping coin, now- now it’s serious!
Supervision by Robert Clampett; Animation by I. Ellis; Story by Warren Foster; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on October 7, 1939.
Here goes post 777. Did I hit the jackpot? Let’s see… Porky, Clampett, Ear-worm… Looks like I’m french kissing like a bandit. And I’d have been past that number if I hadn’t had four posts mysteriously disappear. Why, yes I am still upset about that.
Humans are naturally high-strung, easy to offend creatures. If you want to see any who are the complete antithesis of the way they’re naturally supposed to be, you should visit “Kaintucky.” Why are the humans so peaceful there? Because they don’t exist there! Zing! But it still feels like home, since the two tribes that live there, the Martins and McCoys, spend their days endlessly punching, smashing, shooting, and probably killing one another. A guy could really get to like it here.
But what if, for the sake of argument, the heads of both sides actually fell in love? Could they ever hope to be, or would they be like the most famous couple whose love ended in tragedy: Sokka and Yue. (Spoilers if you’ve never been smart enough to watch a good contender for best TV series that’ll ever be created.) Well, the unfortunate COULD happen, but that’s only because of bad blood. What if there was a peace treaty? So it was decided. Petunia Pig Martin (sadly making her last theatrical appearance for the next 85 years) and Porky Pig McCoy officially call truce. (Petunia? Why do you allow that pig on your property to be nude? What’s her story?)
Now that things are sunshine and grayscale rainbows, the two can finally be wed. Or at least be sweethearts. Friends? Well, they can greet each other cordially. That’s still better than I’ve ever done with a girl. Other locals include Snuffy the chicken and (who I’m calling) Smith the duck, who just can’t believe things have managed to get so pleasant. In fact, they don’t think it’ll last. They’re clearly ready to scratch their trigger finger, but Porky reminds them that that isn’t how things are going to be anymore. (Although he gets the twos’ last names mixed up.)
Now then you two lovebirds, would you like to take a walk? The music’s suggesting it. They do and it’s one of the sweetest, cutest, most charming things I’ve ever seen. They seem genuinely happy together as they hold hands, dance, and sing their way around the countryside. It just goes to show if there’s someone for Porky, that doesn’t mean there’s someone for you. Get over yourself. But look at the rest of the folks. They’re trying their hardest to get along, but not really, as they were clearly meant to be enemies. The playful punches evolve into blunt instrument clubbings, then more shootouts. Just like the good old days.
Not quite Daffy lets the world know that things are back on! Better get more troops! Gives a great excuse to reuse the infant-try joke Clampett’s unit adores somuch. If someone doesn’t interfere, things’ll end up like they did in “Make Mine Music”. And even people who know of that film don’t remember that! (It’s really good. Trust me. #RespectWillytheWhale.) Porky hoped he never had to use his secret weapon, but there appears to be no other alternative. He calls it a ‘Feud Pacifier’ which is the P.C. name for a frickin’ grenade. Extreme, but effective. That’s how we Americans do it!
Aw, quit your whining. He’s not killing anything except the peoples’ senses of self. After the explosion, everybody now plays friendly games, shares books, and dances around the maypole. If people won’t conform to your ways, make ’em. It’s the only way to have lasting friendships.
Favorite Part: Porky and Petunia’s duet. They really make a lovely couple, and I’m sad its taken her so long to get utilized again outside of comic books. Hopefully our next movie has at least given her more of a personality than “Porky’s Girlfriend.” (Not that I have a problem with that.)
Personal Rating: Depends on if you’re one of the sad types who are allergic to cute. You get a 2, and those of us who are secure about ourselves will be content with a 3.
Supervision by Jack King; Animation by Ben Clopton; Music by Norman Spencer. A Looney Tune released on June 23, 1934.
Me, I love mix ‘n match animals. With millions of species past and present, you have endless combinations. Some people are lazy and just make snake-lizards, hedgehog-mice and hummingbird-bluebirds. While people like me make spidertoads, molaye molayes, and jellysaurish rexes. Buddy has bearcats. Is that really the extent of your imagination, pal? Heck, nature could do that.
You’re about 45,000,000 years late, Buddy.
Anyone buying my fake outrage? Anyone reading at all? I wouldn’t be shocked if what little attendance evaporates whenever I’m featuring a Buddy feature.
The Bearcats is just the name of Buddy’s baseball team. That he plays on, rather than own. The apostrophe wasn’t my idea. They’re set to play against the Battling Bruisers today. And anybody who is anybody wants in. The ticket sellers are using this to their advantage, and charging husky-sized patrons for two seats. That’s just rude. I’m not surprised a few are getting in via underhanded means. Some are content to be peekers, peeping through fence holes; others are born to be sneakers, and slip in by making a hot-air balloon out of bagpipes. Finally putting them to good use.
The hot dogs are piping, the soda is sweet, and Buddy’s girlfriend is of course showing her support. You might not recognize Cookie today, as this was during that awkward phase where she was wearing a wig and thought nobody would notice. You know, there’s being polite by not bringing up the obvious, and there’s doing the right thing. Take it off. The game begins, and we’ve got commentary by celebrity guest, Joe E. Brown. Hope you like big mouths and loud noises. Hope you don’t mind if he eats your souls and joys.
Buddy pitches to the opponent with color-changing shoes. (His card is the most fun to collect.) Foul ball, I think. I don’t really know how baseball is played. And I bet you don’t either. When it’s Buddy’s turn to bat, he gets a good hit and manages to get to base by sliding with the roller skate on his tuckus. It’s okay is he cheats because he’s the hero. So maybe that’s just a different Cookie? Buddy also cheats while pitching. He uses a wind-up key to alter the ball’s trajectory. The batter slows it down with, I don’t know, whatever cartoon gardeners spray insects with. His pitch counts, but Buddy has Inspector Gadget on his team. Easy catch.
At the bottom of the ninth, it’s a tie game. If Buddy can hit this, he can win, and probably retire next year. That’s too much pressure, and he hides in the dugout until whichever Cookie that is coaxes him to grow some baseballs. There was never anything to fear, because the ball lets him hit it. Home run! The audience cheers by pelting Buddy and his gal with their chapeaus. Hats all, folks.
Favorite Part: One of the peekers is swaying back and forth at just the perfect height for a dachshund to stand beneath and get a literal butt scratch. Cure, creative, and maybe a little kinky. Congratulations if you discovered your new fetish.
Animation by Isadore Freleng and Paul Smith. A Looney Tune released in July of 1931.
Happy Holidays. That’s all I have to tie into today’s featured short.
We find Bosko doing what I always want to be constantly doing: sleeping. It’s clearly his calling and I don’t see why his phone can’t accept that like the alarm clock did. (I wish my clock sounded like a pig.) The indignant device coerces the clock into waking the kid, which takes some doing as he sleeps harder than a dormouse. It takes a prick from the clock’s pointy hands to finally rouse him. Groggily, he answers the phone. There had better be a significant other calling. Preferably, the “dreamboat” variety.
‘Tis so. Honey is calling to see if he’d like to join her for a picnic. The best excuse to pretty yourself up for. Why else is she in lipstick? And wow. Her VA is clearly having a heck of a time reading the script. It’s funny, but I don’t know if it’s intentionally so. Bosko is game, and leaps into his clothes and shoes, that hilariously enough, look no different than his feet. I think the phone is saying “Scram”, but I can’t tell if it means “Get going” or “Don’t waste your time with women.”
Bosko drives over, plucking his three stringed banjo along the way. (Disappearing steering wheel.) When a string breaks, he just rips the tail off of Mickey clone #561, who likes to pretend he’s a hood ornament. (He’s not hurting you, so let him have his fun.) When he arrives, Honey greets him in a familiar fashion. The two are set to go, but Bosko’s car has a bit of hard time going uphill. Bosko does his best to push, but is distracted by Honey’s dog who seems to think he’s invited as well.
While Bosko tries to get things going again, the dog realizes how delicious the rear right tire is. Surely they won’t mind if he just has a nibble, right? The dog inflates and Honey’s lipstick is back again. It must be that new kind that you only need to apply once. Your skin absorbs it, and secretes it back into place whenever you feel an intense emotion. Once Bosko (who gets layered under the wheel) gets the dog uninflated, he ties a knot in the punctured tire. Good progress they’ve made. Why not unpack here? (Was the basket in the car the whole time?)
Picnic time! Bosko starts things off by whispering Honey-knows-whats into his girlfriends ear. I’ll never know what he said precisely, but Honey turns haughty at the suggestion. Really now. If you don’t want him to constantly ask to cop a feel, put a shirt on once in a while. Bosko tries to get back in her good graces by eating a sandwich as noisefully (read obnoxiously) as possible. I don’t care if there’s no color. Seeing food get chewed into paste isn’t palatable. Why does Bosko have to do that every time he eats? Is he a kid, or something?
Since the sandwich he took is the infinite one, he could keep doing this all day. Luckily for him, it looks like the lady is coming around. Unluckily, the dog showed up too, and when nobody is looking, he gooses Honey with his tongue. Bosko is slapped, and Honey heads home. He sulks, probably because he really was planning to do the same thing. Just with his fingers.
Favorite Part: I like the dog’s eyes bulging out when he’s all puffy. Looks funny.
Personal Rating: 2. One of the more boring Bosko pictures.
Animation by Isadore Freleng and Larry Martin. A Looney Tune released on April 2, 1932.
It may rain, but Bosko has a sunny day in his heart on all days that have the letter ‘d’ in them. Even if that wasn’t the case, he has reason to feel glad when the sky feels gloomy: he’s going to a party! It’s not a party for him, despite how you interpret the title, it’s more like a party he threw together. That means it can legally be called his party as long as it’s not in honor of anybody else. So, what’s the occasion? It has to have a reason, even if it’s a “throwing a party for no reason” party. Actually it’s way better than that: it’s Honey’s birthday party! She’ll see him in court, but will probably lose as he’s the star around here.
While she gets ready for the day, Bosko and a whole bunch of her closest friends have already broken into her place to surprise her. Everybody is here! There’s that little dog that joins Bosko in the ending title cards; the only Oswald clone; Mickey clone #338; Wilber; and Pants Pig, second step-cousin to Piggy. And every one of them has got to hide if they want to surprise Honey, because here she comes! (Wilber? Please don’t take your pants off. It’s not one of those parties that needs the police involved.)
Wilber has a bit of trouble trying to find a good hiding spot; all his first choices are already taken. Since Bosko knows nobody will care if they can’t see him ever again, he sticks him under a flower pot. Once everyone is hid, Honey enters the room and… SURPRISE! Happy birthday Honey! Even though, you’re 2 1/2 max, we rounded up and got you a third candle for your cake. And we all chipped in an got you a present. Well, Bosko picked it out. Open it! Show us what it is!
Your dog? But you already have one of those. Bosko chases after the canine, but it ends up falling into the fancy aquarium. These are the kind of things that seeing will turn Honey’s stomach white. And there was never really any need to get mad at the dog, the present’s fine. It’s a ukulele! (Which means the five bucks I coughed up was wasted.) Might as well give it a test play, Bosko can accompany you on vocals. And Wilber is still stuck under the pot. Nobody has noticed he’s disappeared from the party, and I suddenly feel a kinship with the little guy.
He manages to escape, but immediately ends up caught in a mousetrap. Why would you have that set up when you invited mi-… oh wow. You guys are evil. He ends up falling into the cake, ensuring he now doesn’t have to share with the birthday girl. Wilber was the mastermind all along.
Favorite Part: Honey is about to get dressed, (Sexy negligee) when she breaks the fourth wall and sees us. She retreats behind a partition for privacy, but there’s a mirror in a perfect position. This is the most erotic cartoon of its day.
“Uncle Porky? Uh, can I go swimming? Oh boy! Buy me an ice cream cone! When’s Christmas? Oh, can I go swimmin’? When’s the Easter Bunny comin’? Why? What? Oh, I wanna help on these things. How soon will we get there?”
Supervision by Robert Clampett; Animation by Robert Cannon; Story by Warren Foster; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on October 15, 1938.
It’s the best kind of day. The day of the Cartoon Animal Outing. (If it also includes chocolate then I’m never leaving.) Porky’s going to be there, but his sister, (you know, the one who smokes hams?) has coerced him into babysitting. I’ve made it no secret that I don’t particularly care for children. They’re loud and stubborn and I can’t speak to them on an adult level. I’ve also made it very well known that I love pigs. And piglets are the cutest pigs can get. So what am I supposed to think of little Pinkie here?
Well, he’s got a bonnet. Minus five cute points. He’s got a wide, chubby smiling face. That’s good. He is voiced by maybe Bernice Hansen just slightly sped up, I’d wager. And he loves to torment his uncle. You’d think that’s the clincher, but no, I just can’t bring myself to say otherwise. He’s adorable! His widdle waugh! His chubby tummy! His “innocent” coos! I admit that he’s best in small doses, and it’s all for the best that he’d only make one more appearance after today, and then Cicero got the nephew gig, but for today, let me gush.
Porky barely gets settled for a nap when Pinkie’s misbehavioral impulses start up. He swats Porky with his plastic sand shovel, then leaps back into pure innocence before Porky can reprimand him. Porky decides to blame the only other kid he sees on the beach wielding a shovel. Porky, not very meanly at all, tells the squirt that he shouldn’t hit people with shovels and takes it away from him. The kid’s no novice at sand scooping, though. He has a backup. When Porky tries to take that one as well, he gets beaned by the kid’s biggest shovel. Wanna join the fun, Pinkie?
Pinkie grabs the shovel and takes a swing to defend his uncle’s honor, but the kid ducks and Porky is clobbered. Judging by the kids’ smiles, this was planned. Pinkie then heads to a body of water and pretends to be drowning. Porky, ever the caring sort, dives into about a foot and a half of water. And now a sea star is plastered on his face. Oh. I thought it was just a small pond. I’m kinda scared of how high the tides reach here. Pinkie apologizes for his antics, promises to behave from now on, and is rewarded with an opportunity to bury Porky in sand. Pinkie has a drivers license and permit to operate dump trucks, and Porky now looks ready for a luau.
Time for the real reason any of us came out here: the swimming race! Porky’s gotta win, cause he has me on his side, and that means he has America on his side! At the starters pistol, Porky jumps right in while every other contestant turns back to get some sort of cheating device. Now I really like Porky’s odds since I’m pretty sure I’ve read that the odds of cheaters winning is somewhere around the never mark. This also proves that Porky is the kind of sports hero we can all look up to. (Was that Mickey clone #673? I thought they were all dead by this point.)
All the cheaters have unique ways of getting ahead. A cervine has sails strung from his antlers, one birds rides a bike (pretty sure that would be a major handicap underwater,) and an ostrich’s long legs allow it to run, rather than swim. That’s the worst kind of cheating. In fact, I’d say the only other contestant trying to be honest and likable is celebrity guest Eddie Cantor. He willingly drops out upon his discovery of, at last, a buoy! (He pronounces it the British way to make the joke work.)
Pinkie’s been hiding in that buoy, and he’s got a real trick this time. One that could affect everybody in the race, but his only target is Porky. He loves his uncle almost as much as me. Clearly. It’s a simple enough prank. He’s going to wind up a toy sailboat, and claim that its a shark. The sails do sorta look like a dorsal fin, and once it submerges you can’t tell the difference. Pinkie’s warnings don’t fall on deaf ears, and Porky swims like he’s never swam before. He’s a regular sea pig! He wins the race, no problem, and Pinkie swims right along after, cackling with delight. When he tries to show off his awesome prank, he pulls out an actual shark. (How couldn’t he tell? How much silt is in that sea?)
Favorite Part: One of the contestants is a goose. Another is some goslings doing some competitive rowing. The goose evens its chances by eating the babies. Now they row for thee.
Personal Rating: I think it deserves a 3, but if you can’t stand Pinkie, you’ll probably demand it stay a 2. And that’s okay, but I can’t understand your reasoning.
“It’s the bane of digestion, but that’s not the question…”
Supervision by Isadore Freleng; Animation by Cal Dalton and Phil Monroe; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on July 31, 1937.
Ah, my advice was taken to heart! These pictures will be merrily rolling along until the studio has to close. I’d wager that we have maybe 27 years until then. I’m very good at predicting events that predate me.
On your everyday poultry farm, (which, incidentally isn’t really yours.) you can expect to find the galliformes and anseriformes that always end up on your plate either before or after utero. Er, ovaro. One hen’s eggs are just hatching into adorable chicks. There’s yellow ones, and a brown one, a yellow and brown one, a yellow and gray one, and a black and white and gray one. Must be a first clutch, given how shocked she is to see new life emerge from rocks that exited her cloaca. Maybe she’s just shocked to find they were fertile after all? A rooster with a condom just can’t be trusted. And then the last egg hatches.
Add a tall one to the list. A stupidly tall one, even. Heck, an ostrich one! That’s an ostrich, that is. An stupidly tall one at that. Biggest extant bird or not, those hens should still be taller if he’s just hatched. It’s a bit of a shock, but we’re not going to do the whole “ugly duckling” story here. Just standard, stereotypical, animated ostrich fare. I.E., eating whatever he comes across. He spots a fish in the opposite yard, behind a fence. He tries for that. I… I never expected an animated ostrich to try and eat something actually edible. Too bad the hole he’s sticking his neck through is too thin for the fish to pass through to the crop. It gets away, and I’m a little sad.
He has better luck eating an auto jack that he finds after tumbling into the farm’s basement. I’d like to know who is owning these fowl and whether he or she knows what is running around. Anyway, now the little guy is trying for something that makes actual sense for him to eat: a worm. A worm that I swear fluctuates in size, but never mind that. It can sprout limbs! I don’t blame it for fleeing. Yeah, something’s trying to eat it, but that thing also has permanent bedroom eyes. I don’t like that. Chicks were never meant to have those!
The worm escapes, and the chick gets distracted by a living hose that has nothing else to do but squirt him in the eyes. He tries to eat this, and manages to get a good length swallowed before it turns itself on and gives him a reverse enema. He hides his head under the ground. And I’m not upset about it. You see, he just hatched today, so he’s uneducated but what’s more, he’s escaping something scary that was squirting his eyes. It makes sense to try hiding those in the nearest place you can. The downside of sticking your head in strange holes, is you never know if something is already living there. Like a giant weasel, per se?
This guy has my sympathy. I too long for a chance to try ostrich meat without actually having to travel. It’d be one of those once in human history miracles, like finding a significant other online, liking black licorice, or having Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse in the same movie. This is going to be dream feast. Oh, but what’s death without a last meal? The chick thinks those fireworks will do just as well. And since he’s now been stuffed, he’s ready for the oven. I forget, do fireworks ignite just with the heating of the area, or would gizzard juices render them useless?
Never mind. The cartoon just answered my question. Bringing a new literal meaning to projectile vomiting, the weasel’s dinner has become very volatile indeed. Never thought I’d see fireworks coming out of the ground, but I also never thought I was any good at writing. The weasel doesn’t die, but he’s lost his appetite. He angrily gives the mother back what’s hers. Look at that adorable hug! She’ll know how to soothe his angry tummy; mothers have these magical healing gifts.
Favorite Part: The weasel’s cookbook. It’s entry on ‘ostrich a la king’ equates to giving up and getting some Chinese. And check out it’s pelican recipe. Judging by the ingredients, it’s “road” island style.
