Category: Chuck Jones

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

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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.

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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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War and Pieces

‘GET LOST’

There he go-go-goes!

Directed by Chuck Jones; Co-Director: Maurice Noble; Story by John Dunn; Animation by Ken Harris, Richard Thompson, and Tom Ray; Layouts by Dave Rose; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Film Editor: Treg Brown; Musical Direction by Bill Lava. A Looney Tune released on June 6, 1964.

Well, this is it. The end. Not my end, tempting though it may be, but I mean for Chuck. This is his last short for the studio. (Couldn’t think of one more speed related title?) It’s a fine way to go, as any of his Road Runner pictures are. But it is still depressing, which is fine because I’ve been really feeling my depression this last week. I think I’ll work it into the weekly post as many times as I possibly can and hope the antidepressants do their one job by next time.

As Road Runner runs, he gets his usual labeling. Wile E.  doesn’t get his right away. He has to wait until the grenade he throws rebounds off a cactus and back to him. While waiting for anything Wile E. related is torturous, (I’ll never make it 12 months with my sanity intact!) I suppose it was all for the best here, as the freeze-frame manages to capture the goofiest face Wile E. could make. Well, I guess he could stick his tongue out. I ruined my description, just like everything else I interact with. I apologize for being born, and will get my parents to say the same some day.

Wile E. tries to fire himself from a bow, but he’s done that before. The new method involves a rope and pulley to aid in pulling back the bowstring. This results in his lower half being torn off, allowing us to see his boxers, socks, and disturbing human legs. I know all about having to hiding my ugly body, so he gets my condolences. Not that anyone would want to get anything from me. Well, other than ‘away’. I’m sorry, is the short still going on? Where are we now in the recap?

Ah, yes. We’re at the part where Wile E. has set up an electric eye-beam that triggers a crushing mechanism. Genius that he is, he made sure to factor in a slight delay since the crusher is behind it. Just like the good times. Problem is, its not an invisible beam. Road Runner notices and stops to inspect. Wile E.’s own impatience is his undoing here, as he decides to just make a grab right as the bird steps into the light. Invisible! That’s it! The bird won’t run away from what it can’t see. Wile E. just needs to “Goosebumps #6 Let’s get invisible!”* It’s easy. Just look at me. (If you could.)

It takes a while to find a legitimate can of that paint. Rip-off artists sell many empty cans this way. Personally, I like buying things that remind me of myself. Once Wile E. gets a nice coat going, he heads to the road and jumps at the first beep. As science has already ruined for us: being invisible means no light can get into your eyes, and makes vision itself disappear. Wile E. never saw the truck coming. I like watching his stumbling footsteps reveal he was really knocked for a loop. Then he falls off a cliff. I’d follow, but I don’t have the will to do anything anymore.

With the bird at the top of a cliff, and the canine at the foot, it only makes sense to grapple-hook his was up. His fist might be on the screen a little too long. We all make mistakes. Except me. I just am one. Wait, the hook is still up above. What did he hook onto? Just a cloud. Those things are stupidly flimsy, and it tears open unleashing its lightning. Ow, but at least feeling pain is feeling something. Better yet, Road Runner really is enjoying the view today, so he perches atop another cliff. Wile E. can try something new! I doubt it will work. I doubt a lot.

Wile E. tries riding a missile up, but the sloping cliff sends him back down. This missile however, is just like a smile: tough. Rather than an explosion, it takes its rider through the Earth and right to China. (Shouldn’t have turned left from Albuquerque.) There are Roadrunners there, of course, but they are… of a rather outdated design. Actually, never was dated. (Just like me.) Or maybe its eyes aren’t squinty, but just closed because its better than seeing awful reality. Wile E. doesn’t mind too much. Chinese food for dinner!

I lie to feel better about myself. Since this isn’t the Road Runner, it is allowed to fight back. It holds out a gong to stop the charging Wile E. and the impact sends him back to his own country. It’s where he belongs. One of the many things I wish I had.

Favorite Part: Wile E. sets up a phony “Beep” Show that is really just a gun. Hilariously, the bird is easily lured in and really seems to be enjoying himself. I miss being able to do that.

Personal Rating: 3. 4 for the harem bit.

I apologize if you found today’s post annoying or in bad taste. Cracking wise about what’s wrong with me helps calm down. I’ll be fine for another year at least.

*I liked “Blogger Beware”. I wish I could say it was an influence on me, but I only discovered it after ceased updates, and I was already doing this by then.

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Lickety-Splat

‘ Again ‘

I believe that is the proper term.

Written and Directed by Chuck Jones; Co-Directed by Abe Levitow; Animation by Richard Thompson, Bob Bransford, Tom Ray, and Ken Harris; Layouts by Maurice Noble; Assistant Layout: Corny Cole; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard and Bob Singer; Effects Animation by Harry Love; Film Editor: Treg Brown; Musical Direction by Milt Franklyn. A Looney Tune released on June 3, 1961.

A quick thank you to all my readers in Germany. You’re giving more hits than my homeland.

The guy doing the “Latin” captions had the day off, so Wile E. provides. He looks smug, and since he can keep pace with the Road Runner better than I can, he’s got reason to be. But just wait until the bird puts on a speed boost. So fast, that he appears to not appear. The roads curl up behind him, tunnels get pulled inside-out, and bridges scrunch up after him. That’s the moment Wile E. decides he’s done enough running. He’s got better ideas! And rather than the overused light bulb over the head, his eyes become the bulbs. I like creativity!

Acme does it again! Skates are no longer the only winter gear that gets a “roller” variety. Introducing Roller skis! Want to ski in the future when snow no longer exists? Now you can, and you’ll look sexy doing it. Also available: roller luge, roller ice fishing poles, and roller balls. (That’s supposed to be a play on snowballs.) They look plenty fun to me. Turning is nonexistent, though. Wile. E. goes over a cliff, and ends up embedded into a different one’s face. Stuck in the exact middle too. Too high to drop, too low to climb. But the bird is at the top! What’s the super genius way to solve this?

Obviously: you use the skis as a makeshift diving board. Each bounce flings you higher, but remember: doing this too much will make the wood splinter. Don’t attempt more than five times. The warranty won’t cover that. Wile E. is having no luck in getting close enough, so the super genius method is to send something else out, and collect the carcass. Paper airplanes can be thrown, but they are flimsy and weak. Even if they came into contact, what would they accomplish? Paper cuts only happen at the most inopportune times.

The solution: T.N.T. airplanes. Yeah, now we’re talking. That’s a man’s toy! (But a coyote’s weapon.) They’ve even got needles on them so they will guarantee stick to whatever you want to blow up. The only limit is your imagination! And poor aim. Wile E. takes to a balloon to unleash his flock. Wait… Ralph Wolf? What are you doing here? This isn’t your picture! Wait. Wile E. just had white eyes there. Yeah, I knew it all along. You’re pretty impressed, I bet.

The weapons are unleashed and fly. Since Wile E. didn’t throw them, they’re left to the mercy of wind and gravity. Oops. The last one ends up stuck in his balloon. After the explosion, Wile E. plummets. Always the super genius, he brought along a parachute. The second to last airplane takes that one out. His next two attempts are with a sledge hammer and a boomerang, but they end up getting darted as well. Should’ve seen this coming. “Dart” and “Drat” are anagrams.

The final plan is to drop an anvil on the R.R. Before he can, another airplane gets embedded in the crag Wile E. is standing on. And after that explosion, another two are stuck in the chunk he’s left with. He tries jumping back to the bigger slab, but it’s still not attached to anything, so he falls with it. He makes sure to at least keep the anvil under him so he won’t be squashed. He ends up neck-deep buried in the street. And then the smaller slab falls on him. He gets a bit of a break though. These airplanes don’t blow up, but just unfurl into “The” and “End”. (Eugh. I don’t like Wile E.’s laugh.)

Favorite Part: The first reappearance of the airplane. It’s unexpected, so the laughter hits harder.

Personal Rating: 3. It’s close though! See, after the second airplane encore, we start to expect another one. And jokes you expect are never as funny as the one’s you don’t see coming. Maybe you disagree and will clamor for a four. We can still be friends.

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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