Category: Looney Tunes

Cartoons that were labeled as “Looney Tunes.”

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Bosko’s Store

“Let’s make whoopy, Bosko.”

Animation by Isadore Freleng and Bob McKimson. A Looney Tune released on August 13, 1932.

Bosko owns a store now. You see, soda fountains are a dying trade. So are brick and mortar stores, but I don’t want to think that, much less tell him. I think we’re catching him on opening day, too. Look at all the grime he’s washing off his windows! Either he bought an old building, or he allows patrons to smoke inside the building. If you think the cigs are too costly, all the second-hand smoke is free!

One customer calls to get some bologna. Bosko is the kind of guy who sells only the real artisanal stuff. None of that rectum cancer in a tube they sell in my local delis. He couldn’t afford a store and a deli slicer, so he uses an electric fan to slice the meat. It gives his establishment a distinct aroma of sheep intestines. You’re hungry now, I can tell. And now: for something the opposite of completely different! Probably that same dachshund who robbed Bosko before enters the store. And he’s hungry, I can tell!

He pops the slices into his gullet. You could think that the pile disappeared some since Bosko began, but I say he just moved on to the next tube. Nobody would just buy one sliced loaf. And I’ve got other goofs to mention. Repeat offenders don’t get a chance to pay their dues, so Bosko plans to make sausages out of this hound. In its haste to get away, it runs into the electric fan and is shredded back into its whole self. Pain amuses Bosko, so the dog can live if he isn’t going to suffer from heavy internal bleeding.

Well folks, you know what that means: Bosko will now do a dance. So excited is he, he jumps into place before the background aligns. He’s literally walking on air. Still, he’s got a job to do, so he grabs a duster for some dusting. Got to dust the magic eggs while you can. Once they’re off camera, there’s no guarantee they’re coming back. If you buy them, don’t put them in your trunk. And smash cut to Mickey clone #57. I was too dumb to realize he’s not in the store. I can only assume it’s somebody else’s home as that phone isn’t to his scale.

He’s placing an order, and I’m lying to your face. He was just crank calling Bosko. Probably still bitter about that dunking from the soda fountain. Mice deserve respect because between Disney and Pokémon, I’m pretty sure they already rule the world. And now it’s time to sweep the storefront. You can make a game out of it by using your broom as a dance partner. It’s a sad game, but that’s what I’d expect out of a great depression.

Here comes Honey and Wilber. And-… oh, crud biscuits! Only now am I realizing that he’s managed to reach the “5-appearance tier”. Never thought I’d have to do this again…

Wilber, but I will not.

Wilber is a cat. He’s a kid. He spends most of his time annoying Bosko and by extension, me. No idea who his parents are. I like to imagine that Julius from the “Alice Comedies” would have joined Oswald the Lucky Rabbit in loathing Mickey, but then got a good look at the mouse and started wondering how his arms would feel wrapped around his shoulders and wished the stork would give them a baby and that would win Mickey’s love. Wilber doesn’t give me much to discuss, so I made dumb stuff up instead.

So yeah, Honey and Wilber. One’s as lovable as always and one’s as “lovable” as always. I’m really starting to wonder about your relation to this kid, Hons. Is he your adoptive child? Nephew? Pet? Lunch? Or do you just rent him so Bosko can warm up to the idea of having children with you someday? It’s not going to work. While you two were frolicking to street piano music, Wilber helped himself to some of Bosko’s bananas. No intention of paying whatsoever. When confronted, he squirts some berry in Bosko’s eyes, and loses his tail for a half second.

The banana blast sends Bosko reeling around the room and ends with him stuck in a molasses spill. (Great sound effects here! Sounds sticky and soupy.) Wilber tries to climb to safety, but falls into a meat grinder. Rather than put him out of our misery, it just splits him up into more but mini of himself. Pull yourself together, if you please. I barely enjoy the one. Bosko frees himself by leaving his shoes behind, so Wilber runs some barbed wire against his crotch. Hope the brat was worth it, Honey. No children coming out of that talk-ink kid.

Favorite Part: When dancing with the broom, it tries to make sure Bosko doesn’t put his hands on “her” rear.

Personal Rating: 3.

And now for this trailer in case you’ve still yet to see it:

Using footage from his old pictures: nice. A human using toon standard white gloves to manipulate the world: mega awesome. And I know I spy Gossamar, but could that crowd also be containing Hubie, Hugo, Playboy and Nelly? Be still my Chuck loving fanboy soul! If they could get the Dot and the Line to also cameo, I think my heart, gallbladder and parathyroid might simultaneously stop!

(I kid. I had that last one removed a decade ago.)

 

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Bosko’s Soda Fountain

“Where’s my ice cream cone?”

Animation by Isadore Freleng and Rollin Hamilton. Music by Frank Marsales. A Looney Tune released on November 14, 1931.

I’ve always wanted to visit an old fashioned soda fountain. Sounds delicious, cozy, friendly, and probably not at all what I’m expecting. Dreams: never accomplish, never disappointed. But with Bosko in charge, I bet it’d still be pretty great. He uses real dairy, soda, and syrup in his concoctions. Mickey Clone 154 says you’ll like them and you should always trust a cartoons opinion over your own. You should, I said.

Smash cut to a hippo! She’s on her way to the shop, of course. The treats on hand or tempting, but the real joy is the fact she has a a history with Bosko. (Foxy too, actually.) She’s his old school teacher, Miss Pitty. Or maybe he’s saying “Bitty”. (Pitty if I’m wrong.) Now I will attempt to relate what they say after that. Pitty: Give me a *hee-hee-hee* a lover’s delight! *huh-huh-huh*” Bosko: “Oh.” See, we all thought he was going to say “okay”. But that wily Bosko keeps us guessing.

Hippos don’t really have sweat glands. Sure, she could secrete some hipposudoric acid in the sun, but in here she’ll just turn on the fan to keep cool. Now, what’s in a lover’s delight? Looks like club soda, a magically appearing banana, and the air that gets mixed in with a beater. Clone 154 finds that the peak of comedy. Bosko smiles very genuinely back at him. That mouse is about to be tortured, isn’t he?

Bosko decides to use his head as the new whisk. But for health reasons, he’s going to send the rodent’s shoes to the universe between spaces with his mind. Order up! Before Pitty can slurp a single slupp, the fan blows the mess all over her face. Clearly, this is all the fault of the proprietor. She gives him an earful, blows a raspberry, and takes her business elsewhere. (Bosko’s keeping her parasol.) He laughs the whole thing off. It’s just like grade school all over again! In his merriment he dances, and reveals he keeps birds in his cash register. For health reasons.

Any good purveyor of foodstuffs sells more than what their place advertises. Bosko has sandwiches. Although, I prefer to use past tense seeing as a dog came in and ate every one. Bosko is upset, but fair and decides the dog can pay off his debt. The entry level position is being Bosko’s accordion. Come for the lover’s delights, stay for the animal abuse. And smash cut to Honey and Wilber making his first appearance. Like always, she’s trying to educate him on the fine art of playing a musical instrument. Like most musicians, he prefers ice cream to practicing. (And he wears one white glove. I mean paw.)

He’s willing to make a deal: Honey gets him the good, and he’ll behave the same way. Sounds fair. And her boyfriend will probably give her a discount. It’s about time for that dog’s break anyhow. (Though he’s starting to embrace his new life.) The phone rings, the cel flips 180 degrees for a frame, and Honey put on some lipstick to help her place her order. Bosko delivers too. And he banishes his hat to the same realm as the shoes in favor of his usual derby. He was clocking out for the day, I’m sure.

Honey didn’t give any specifics, so it was best to play it safe with the most basic flavor available: vanilly. Wilber demonstrates why condoms were invented and complains about getting the wrong flavor. (Do you also hate chicken, you little expectoration?) He reneges the deal, and spits the cream in Bosko’s face. P.o’ed, Bosko gives chase. (Nice overhead shot of the stairwell.) Wilber swings off the clock Honey keeps in front of her bedroom door, and nails Bosko in the Honey kisser.

This gives Wilber the chance to slide down the banister, knowing Bosko will try the same. Wilber takes the bottom half away, and the Bosko takes many sticks to the dick, and a ball to the balls. Landing on a serving cart, he takes a ride that ends with him in Honey’s washtub. At least he got her underwear on his head. Guys in relationships want that, right?

Favorite Part: The dog failing to act innocent when Bosko catches him by the empty sandwich platter. Gotta love how he figures his best bet is to just exit.

Personal Rating: 3. I don’t know. I had fun with it.

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Yodeling Yokels

“Bosko! Save me!”

Animation by Rollin Hamilton and Norm Blackburn. A Looney Tune released in June of 1931.

Everybody knows a mountain range is the best to yodel. There’s less people around up there to tell you to stop irritating all with working ears. Plus, there’s a better chance of an avalanche putting you out of our misery. Bosko yodels because he loves hearing his echo. If you ever thought that was just sound reflecting off another surface, you were dumb. Moronic. Imbecilic. Just plain wrong. It’s the phantom mountain that returns your calls and disappears before you can get a good glimpse of it. Bosko may be the only kid to ever lay eyes on it. I’m glad we see what he sees.

My first question when anyone goes anywhere without me (so, when they go anywhere) is what wildlife you saw. You must have seen something, because life is pretty much everywhere on this planet. I’m happy to hear about the insects. (No, I don’t mean your children.) The fauna up here include bears that look to share an evolutionary ancestor with a Disney mouse, and Ibexes that can change the color of their nose. Comes in handy when your nose needs to camouflage itself as the rest of you.

But strange as it may sound, Bosko isn’t me. Why did he come all the way up here? It’s where his lady lives. The scenery isn’t half as beautiful as her. She seems eager to spend time together, so she begins the long trek down all her stairs. (You can crush oysters with her thighs.) She also shares living quarters with Mickey Clone #731. And for some reason, the short thinks we care about what he does with the house to himself. I would be if he was funny or amazing. But he just golfs. You ever written ‘fail’, but made each letter composed of more ‘fail’s? Get on that.

Bosko slides down a tree to get to Honey. (Lost his mountaineering hat between cuts.) This isn’t a great way to travel, as there are several tree branches to be snapped off by your junk along the way. On the plus side, after this treatment, you could crush abalones with Bosko’s rear. Landing, he bounces onto some skis and takes Honey along for the ride. A two second ride. Once they hit a boulder, Honey is flung off and rolls down herself. Looks like she’s having a (snow)ball! Looks like she is a (snow)ball! Bosko desperately dodges trees behind, and M.C. 713 still can’t hit his pea into the cheese hole. And why is that spaghetti labeled as macaroni?

Honey is freed when her (snow) boulder hits a (rock) boulder and she is now flung off a cliff. Bosko also takes the boulder to his belly, but stays put. Only able to watch helplessly as Honey lands on ice flows in a fast moving stream. You don’t want water to move that fast as there can only be one kind of outcome for that. Good thing all mountains worth their salt have a St. Bernard nearby to aid in rescues. Doesn’t even have a barrel around his neck. I’m amazed we could tell what breed it is! You know us audiences; we’re rather slow.

Do you hate excitement? Cause we can (and do) cut back to that golfing clone. Don’t say it’s not the time for that. It always is. Besides, you really think Bosko would let Honey go over the falls? Using the dog’s retractable teeth, he snatches her from gravity’s grasp, she loses her bow, it grows back by the time she is brought back, the Bernard loses a spot, a puppy shows up, (that was important) and the couple smooch. Cut back to the clone to show he finally sunk his shot (oh yip-pea) then return to the couple. They’re still kissing. I really didn’t see that coming.

Favorite Part: An owl isn’t a fan of Bosko’s yodeling (he really is a wise bird) and blows a raspberry. Bosko shoots him. He may not have died, but he can’t fly now and will freeze. Bosko makes his victims suffer.

Personal Rating: 1. Maybe it’s for the best that they cut to golf. Nothing happened in either plot!

 

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Two’s a Crowd

“Oh, you darling little fellow!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Personal Rating: 3

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Porky’s Duck Hunt

“It’s me again.”

Supervision by Fred Avery; Animation by Virgil Ross and Robert Cannon; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on April 17, 1937.

Porky, Porky, Porky. What are we going to do with you? We all love ya, but your voice… The polite way to say this is it’s too expensive recording that stutter. The honest? We feel bad for you when you speak. Get it under control, or we’ll have no choice but to bring Beans back out of retirement. Maybe Buddy as well. Look, we’ve booked you an appointment with some guy named Mel. He has a habit of performing voice miracles. We think you’d make a perfect match.

And were they ever! Right from the get go even! A marked improvement in every sense of the word. Porky had good shorts before, but now they have the chance to be greater than great. Superb, even. Maybe a summary would convince you? I know its hard to accept the fact that wonder can occur in the world.

Porky has decided to take up a new hobby. It requires bullets, decoys, and a suit that he looks adorable in. He’s going to hunt ducks. What jolly fun! Especially if you’re not a duck. (Geese think this sport is a hoot.) He must have some experience killing animals. I can see the tiger head on his wall, can’t you? But he’s still inexperienced. Never, repeat nine times, NEVER aim your gun at your dog. That’s just mean, not to mention potentially dangerous. Porky laughs this off, and claims its not loaded; pulling the trigger to prove it. The man living above him pays a visit to punch Porky’s puss soon after. I call that karma.

I also call ducks delicious, so Porky has my support. At the lake, he sees a juicy morsel in the air right away. He does his best to be as quiet as a louse, but he’s not the only one here today. It’s like it’s duck season, or something. Fortunately for the bird, nobody here knows what they are doing and every bullet misses. I’m happy I live in a world where bullets don’t just litter the ground should you miss your target. Couldn’t be happy for the ecosystem. Porky is smarter than humans, so he deploys decoys so he won’t waster resources. Will they work?

If by ‘work’ I meant a meat duck could hide in plain sight amongst them. They work beautifully. The duck quacks at Porky’s back, and acts wooden when Porky tries to catch him. Porky’s not crazy though! He’s the only one who’s not crazy in this picture! His plan is to tie a decoy around his head, then sneak under the water to see which duck has legs. That’s his dinner. Or trophy. But that’s a waste of lovely meat, and mouthwatering fat.

Turns out, guns don’t function so great after being submerged. Porky can’t do more than squirt at the fowl, so it takes off. (After letting out a weird shout. The same shout featured years later in “A Corny Concerto“. Odd bit to reuse.) Luckily for Porky, this doesn’t cause his dog to appear on screen and laugh at him. Besides, once the water’s been cleared out, it’s ready to go. The duck has landed on a barrel of beer, (all good wetlands have these) and Porky’s bullets hit that. The duck flies away, and the hooch flows into the water. What an effect that could have on the local fish, and what an effect it does!

So drunk are the little guys, they’ve forgotten they can’t breathe out of the water. Without that fear holding them back, they giggle like schoolgirls as they load up onto a rowboat for a bit of serenading. (Hey. Where’d the fifth one come from anyway? Answer: an egg.) They enjoy this privilege that no fish has ever had the pleasure of before. No wonder humans do this. I hate to see them leave, but they’ve got a whole world to explore now. Porky acts more dry than the fish are now. (“There’s s-s-s-s-something f-f-f-fishy about th-that.”)

When the duck next tries to escape, Porky manages to shoot him down! Amazing and radical! He sends his dog to retrieve the goods. (Dog’s name is Rin-tin-tin.) Dog comes back all right, but the duck did all the retrieving work. Now Porky, he’s a good boy. Does what he’s supposed to and snitches on rule breakers. As such, he calls the duck out for not following the script. Back at this short’s debut, I imagine audiences were blown out of their brains to hear the duck not only respond, but tell Porky to not worry as said duck is crazy. He hops madly into the distance. Very daffy of him.

Porky next tries to hunt on the water. That’ll keep him hidden? Well, it was nice of the fish to let him borrow their craft once they got arrested for the boat version of D.U.I., regardless. Since Porky isn’t you know, hidden by any definition of the word, the ducks aren’t here. He decides to eat his lunch. As it turns out, that little black duck is quite the influence on the others, and they fly down to quack every time Porky turns his back. During the confusion, he ends up pointing his gun down when he fires, sinking his boat, and getting taunts from Joe Penner. (Ouch.)

Rin then gestures Porky over. Oddly, Porky’s hat is on the shore as well. And Porky returns with the decoy still on his head. Was this originally supposed to take place earlier in the short? Why though? And why change it? To make it funnier when that screwy duck returns and spouts today’s quote? (He may be duck sized, but I feel like he should be bigger.) He flies away again. Porky has at least one more toy to try though: his duck call. Blowing it attracts all the other hunters you forgot were hiding on the other side.

More trouble than its worth, Porky throws it away, but it lands in his dog’s esophagus. More bullets follow every time he hiccups, meaning pig and pet have to run home if they want to see tomorrow. Poor Porky. Maybe I should call him ‘Poorky’. Nah, I don’t want to rub it in. How about a compliment? I really do think you look cute with lopped ears! Or more like deaf ears that my compliments are falling on. Porky sulks, his mood not being helped by his dog still quacking. Only thing worse than losing is being reminded you lost.

Once home, he can’t even take a breather because the ducks flew all this way to mock him with aerial acrobatics outside his window. He tries to take them out, but used all his bullets at the lake. All except that last one that tends to get stuck at the back of the barrel. It only comes out when Porky throws his gun on the floor with frustration. The guy above gets another shot in the cheek, so Porky earns another pop in the nose. (Wait, that window to the right suggests there’s nothing but outside outside. Where’s that interior outside the door coming from?)

During the ending card, that duck shows up again to dance about the credits. Something tells me we haven’t heard the last from him. I think W.B. might have discovered a brand new personality type for Toons!

Favorite Part: Very hard to pinpoint. Avery’s unit was in top form here. But it has to go to the electric eel that appears in this picture. Yes, it looks nothing like its namesake as has to be labeled for our dumb butts. Yes, it has little limbs making it look more like a siren. (The amphibian ones.) Yes, this clearly isn’t South America. But… it IS freshwater! Holy opposite of Heaven! Do you know how many times I’ve been yelling at screens; insulting animators for putting that kind of fish in saltwater? It’s over 9.

Personal Rating: 4

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Henhouse Henery

“Mutts is nuts!”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Warren Foster; Animation by Manny Gould, John Carey, Charles McKimson, Pete Burness, and Phil DeLara; Layouts by Cornett Wood; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on July 2, 1949.

Are you in need of an earworm? Do you long to have nothing but a song playing in your cranium from the dawn of time til the dusk of the universe? Are you all there if you answered ‘yes’? You watch this short, and you’ll never forget Foghorn’s theme song. No matter how much hypnosis you undertake.

Enjoy your title treatment while you still can Henery. This’ll be the last time the studio tries hyping you up as the star.

Henery is on one of his usual chicken hunts, while Foghorn is setting up his latest prank. This time, he labels a stepladder as a fire escape, then lights a fire in Barnyard’s face. When the pup follows the sign’s directions, he falls; he splats. Clearly, we’ve got a master prankster on our paws. Foghorn then stuffs a beach ball in his mouth to shut his angry barking off. Pleased with his latest results, Foggy doesn’t notice the hawk behind him.

Said hawk gets his attention with a hammer to the head. Foghorn doesn’t take him seriously, though. Henery is a small hawk. Practically a newborn. Or newhatch, I guess. Whatever the correct terminology, Foghorn suggests he take on smaller targets to get himself ready for big game. Henery takes the tip, and starts making off with a hen. Foghorn grabs her, and gets smacked for it. Never try to save a woman. They think its demoralizing to get help from an opposite gender. Let them stand up to an active shooter, and whatever remains will take you to bed that night.

Foghorn reprimands the kid for still not going small enough, then grabs a nightmare on a stick to razz Barnyard with. Rather then rendering the dog catatonic, it just makes him angry. Foghorn is safe at the rope’s limit, and while that may be reason enough to paint the town red, he’d rather paint the tongue green. He’ll be telling his grandchildren about this one. Meanwhile, Henery is moping at his lack of luck. Foghorn tells him to grab one of the chicks just yonder. Bird racism continues to be in fashion, as the chicks are ducklings. Never trust a bird that willingly goes in water. I’ve never yet met an honest osprey.

Henery nearly drowns, and it’s awfully sporting of Foghorn to save him. He’s not utilizing Henery for dog annoying today, and he knows the kid is still a predator. But he saves him all the same. You think Henery will remember that? It might be worth surrendering the spotlight to the bigger star- I mean bird.

Speaking of Foggy, he’s just tricked Barnyard into running into a fence that he painted to look like an open gate. Forced perspective is so cool! Too bad he finally got off that rope, and can now chase. He’s built for endurance, so Foghorn doesn’t even have a chance running. Try a weapon. He chops a tree, and shapes the wood into a bat, but Barnyard gets it and can swing hard enough to cleave a table in twain. Foghorn gives him the slip, but isn’t the type to lay low for long. Might as well check on that chickenhawk.

Since even infants are too tough for Henery, he’ll have to go as low as possible and go for a chicken still in the shell. Foghorn directs him to a turtle. Now that I think about it, Foghorn really has it out for any nongalliforme critters. I hope he never learns about his son’s origins. Henery fails to get the “chicken” out of the shell. He just ends up getting pulled in and beaten up. He’s usually so competent at fisticuffs. I guess Foggy’s mind games have really gotten to him. He could really use a friendly pepping up. I recommend dogs for that. Pigs too, but I’d rather keep them for myself.

Barnyard just assumes Henery is looking for Foghorn, and suggests a team-up. I think that’s allowed. The two of them combined has gotta at least match Foghorn’s girth. Foggy notes Henery setting up a chicken trap, and can’t resist telling him it’s wrong. (He was created by humans, all right.) This trap just won’t work because all smart chickens will just jump over the rope snare like so. Good thing this trap was designed for those kind of birds, as Foghorn lands on a pitfall, and Henery gets the rope around his neck.

The little dog laughs to see such sport, while Henery takes his catch home. Barnyard may sarcastically call Foghorn smart, but even geniuses can make mistakes. (*glances at the Wile E. category*) I think he still qualifies as brain food.

Favorite Part: Foghorn demands an explanation on why Henery hit him with a hammer. Rather than comply, Henery hits him again. Funny, and a bit threatening.

Personal Rating: 3

 

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Sugar and Spies

CITY DUMP

I’m beginning to think THIS is a spy car.

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Tom Dagenais; Animation by Bob Matz, Manny Perez, Warren Batchelder, Dale Case, and Ted Bonnicksen; Layouts by Dick Ung; Backgrounds by Tom O’Loughlin; Film Editor: Lee Gunther; Musical Direction by Walter Greene. A Looney Tune released on November 5, 1966.

Wile E. isn’t the only one engaged in a chase today. The cops are currently in pursuit of a cloning experiment that went awry. We were trying to combine Boris Badenov and Ratfink… Ratfinkerson. This was supposed to make a spy that would be able to rival Solid Snake somehow. Instead, it just wanted to dedicate its life to decimating moose and Rolands. Two of the world’s most endangered species. Or so you’ve been told. The most humane thing to do at this point is cremate it. It wasn’t too keen on the idea.

To lighten its load, it throws out its spy kit. We’ll never catch him now! Wile E. was hit in the face with the case and decides to make use of this free gift. Always committed to the role, he slips on a trench coat and hat. He looks fly as heck, but it probably feels like Heck wearing that in a sunny desert. Well, probably not. If you use ‘spy’ as an adjective, you can explain your way out of anything. Since its a spy coat, it probably has a cooling function. Built in AC or ice in the pockets or what have you.

He first tries the vial of sleeping gas. Warning: This stuff is potent! It can put a cactus to sleep. No doubt it could also get fish to close their eyes and turn caffeine into tryptophan. The one downside is that it’s still just a gas. You can blow it away. I don’t think it being visible is a downside. People are always curious about strange ground level clouds; curious enough to breathe them in. Not Roadrunners though. The one on screen blows it into Wile E.’s face and he sleepwalks off a cliff. Since he’s not aware of the lack of gravity, he’s not falling.

The roadrunner wakes him with an alarm clock. Wait, that was the antidote? We really should have learned that in the beta testing. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some families of test subjects who are about to receive good news! I’ll be back after Wile E. fails to mail a time bomb to his prey. *walking away* An alarm clock, after all this time! I guess it would take one of the world’s most cruel inventions to combat a runner-up.

INTERMISSION (Should you choose to accept it…)

And we’re back. Wile E is using explosive spy putty. Good thing its described as spy putty to explain why its specifically spy putty. It should blast a boulder onto one final plate of birdseed, but it lands on him. He decides to build a car. Yes, Wile E. in a car. Why does it sound so logical, yet look so taboo? He outfits it with all the best tricks, too. Machine guns, and ejector seats, and a cannon. Oil slicks are a gamble. You run the risk of humans thinking there’s a gusher around here to claim, and they destroy the pristine scenery. And probably shoot you.

The guns fire, but the bullets bounce off rocks and take out the hood. There goes the sunroof option. There goes the color in the fur above Wile E’s muzzle. He opts for the seat. It launches him to the bird, but he just misses. The car bumps him back into the seat. Then the bird leads him on a wild roadrunner chase around a natural arch, getting him to waste all his fuel in the process. The cannon can still function, but the blast knocks the car over him, and the rocks ricochet this ammo too.

This calls for remote control missile-bombs. You control where you want them to go, but you still have to program a target. I guess so they know to blow up when they hit your target and not an errant Frisbee? Wait! Wile E. was wearing gloves! That looks even more wrong than the car! The roadrunner hides under Wile’s step stool, darting away at the last minute. I guess the targeting system just tells you if what you want to eradicate is actually around. After the explosion, Wile E. has the missile-bomb wings on his own arms. (They didn’t look that big before.)

In another classic out-of-character move, R.R. chooses the moon as a target. Good thing this was the final picture! Oh, Wile E. could get back. He’s a genius, after all. I just mean that the roadrunner’s identity was murdered.

Favorite Part: The roadrunner (who is in charge of the mail around here) can’t deliver the time bomb, because of insufficient postage. Wile E. begs him to hold on while he fixes this error, and the bird nods. Was it really that easy this whole time?

Personal Rating: 2. Thank goodness the series didn’t end as badly as it had been prior. The gags don’t feel as drawn-out here, and I like that they have a theme. I never thought there was a problem in doing that. I want to now see a short where Wile E. holds auditions for other predators to join him.

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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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Porky’s Picnic

“Well…” “Here…” “We are!”

Porky’s day out.

Supervision by Robert Clampett; Animation by Robert Cannon and Vive Risto; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on July 15, 1939.

Porky is off to see his girlfriend. I’ve heard that it’s something you do when you are part of a couple. I really don’t know what to make of the faces he’s making, though. What exactly were you two planning to to today? Does it require privacy? I could talk about Pvt. Snafu if need be. Haven’t done that in a while.

Aww, what the heck. I’ll turn off my disgusting adult brain for the day. At least in terms of sexual innuendos. Porky and Petunia are just a couple of cherubs. Nothing more saucy planned than that titular picnic. (Porky nervously asking if Petunia wants to go to the pic for a parknic is extra adorable.) Always prepared for any activity her sweet chubboo wants to do, Petunia needs less than a second to get a basket and hat. And Pinkie can look after the house!

Yessir, he’s back. I don’t know who he’s related to this time, but Petunia really was going to leave him behind. Maybe she knows how most viewers feel about him? Even I have to admit he’s not as cute today. Chubby piggy bellies are always preferable to those odd nightgown things babies were always shown wearing in cartoons. (The bonnets were never cute.) The adults don’t make too much headway before the kid catches up on his paddle-bike. (I’ll be honest, I don’t know what that kind of toy would be called.)

Their plan for alone time foiled, they bring the piglet along. Porky even promising him a story should the kid behave. It’s that classic one about three bears and a peroxide blonde, as Porky calls her. Which is way less wimpy and childish. Porky tells tales that would make the Grimm’s proud! Pinkie doesn’t give a dang. He pulls at the spike keeping the sidecar he and Petunia are in attached to Porky’s bike. Porky is unaware his guests are traveling down a different road, and a lady never screams for help, so Petunia decides to just let fate take its course.

This road goes parallel to some train tracks, so while Pinkie giggles with glee, Petunia prays that their car will run out of steam before they reach a crossing. No such luck. Good thing in these modern times, the blocking parts are designed to keep the train from crossing the cars path. Not like there on a timetable or anything. And the two make it safely back to Porky just as his tale finishes. (It was really good too! I liked the part where the bears explained how they stole their house from a human couple.) Petunia decides to keep everything a secret, because she doesn’t want Porky to know she is too dainty to save her own life. Makes her less attractive. (And yes, I saw that sign stating Looney Tunes are playing at the community hall. Best town ever!)

The trio arrive at the park. Porky knows what he’s going to do first! What anyone spending time with their soulmate and a young kid would do: nap. I’m learning some great tips on how to be in a relationship! Pinkie decides to amuse himself by participating in squirrel decapitation. Why no, that wasn’t a poor attempt by me to be funny by suggesting barbaric murder attempts are something the kid would naturally do. He grabs some scissors, and tries to separate head from neck. He doesn’t succeed though. Not like the Hayes’ code would have a problem. It’s an important skill kids need to know.

Petunia punishes the brat by telling him to nap as well. But Pinkie would rather partake in his favorite pastime: treating Porky as his personal piñata. My pal laughs it off, but makes it well known that Pinkie’s days are numbered. Maybe even less than that, seeing as how the kid isn’t making another appearance after this. What better way to spend your last day on Earth, than by visiting a zoo? Preferably one where the animals aren’t in cramped cages. So I guess Pinkie will die unhappy unless he can make it to the mid aughts.

Petunia alerts Porky to the problem. She’s just a woman, so she can’t do anything useful other than popping the kids out. May our country join a war and give the girls a chance to prove themselves to prove me wrong. Porky is up to any challenge, and finds the kid napping amidst some cougar cubs. The zookeepers are all on strike until the animals get actual habitats, so Porky enters himself. Mother cougar isn’t pleased to see Porky so near her offspring, and stealing their dinner. Chase time.

She’s a fair feline. When Petunia is about to faint, she patiently waits until Porky has attended to his lady. But this noble gesture just reminds the cat that her mate never did anything of the sort, and resumes the chase enviously angry. But Porky is smart! He decides to just exit the cage, and the murderous mama crashes into the bars. Porky crashes into some mud, but Petunia is more than just a lady, she’s a pig, and she gives the hero the kiss he deserves. Don’t let the mud getting on her and suggesting black face distract you from how cute they are together. It’s hard to believe she started as such a bit*h.

Pinkie tries to get his squirrel head trophy again, but the rodent Conker’s his @$$ with a plank of his own. I’m sure Pinkie’s tears are somebody’s favorite part! But as for me…

Favorite Part: Porky catching Pinkie with the plank and asking what he was going to do. Well, it’s just common courtesy to explain and demonstrate, isn’t it?

Personal Rating: 3. I suppose I’m being too nice, but nobody ever tries to debate me over my scoring, so I must be correct. It’s little touches that I think make it work. (Porky commenting on his “stutter”, combing his “hair”…) And I am a sucker for my favorite couples in fiction, just like all nerds. At least this one is canon!

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Sandy Claws

*Tarzan Yell*

Directed by I. Freleng; Story by Arthur Davis and Warren Foster; Animation by Art Davis, Manuel Perez, and Virgil Ross. Layouts by Hawley Pratt; Backgrounds by Irv Wyner; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Music by Carl Stalling. A Looney Tune released on April 2, 1955.

I really don’t understand the Oscars. Not that I’ve really tried to, but this short was good enough to be a nominee? It’s good, but not great. If I had to pick from the choices for that year’s best cartoon, I’d have gone with “Crazy Mixed up Pup”. I’m digressing.

Granny is an odd bird. Well, she’s not a bird, but if she was she’d still be an odd one for resembling a human. She’s odd for bringing an actual bird to the beach. Not that canaries shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy the beach, but it screams “The grandchildren want nothing to do with me, so I shower my love and will all my belongings on the only creature that does.” She sets Tweety down on a rock, promising to return once she’s gotten into her bikini. I know half of you started reaching for tissues and the other halfs’ brains threw up. You’re both in for a surprise.

What isn’t surprising is Sylvester not being too far off. He’s fishing for his food today. The worm seems hesitant to sacrifice its life, but Sylvester’s gun forces its (suddenly appearing) hand. Bait and baiter are swallowed by a tuna. Sylvester manages to get free, but loses all that valuable sashimi. He needs something easier to eat. He is all American after all, and we are satisfied to put as little effort as possible into our meals. Just as long as it’s warm and tasting of salt.

Tweety meets those requirements. Sylvester makes to nab him, when he gets swallowed again. This time by a wave. He escapes again, but Tweety wasn’t so lucky. That wasn’t just a wave. In fact, I’d say it was fit to be tide! (I don’t like myself.) You can’t spell ‘catfish’ without ‘cat’ but Sylvester isn’t going to swim out to eat. He tries lowering himself via his fishing pole, but runs out of line. Hey, since you’re halfway there now, it’d be stupid to return to shore, right?

Right. So he steals a boat. Being tied to the dock makes him lose the sides via momentum. The three words that best describe him are, and I quote, sink, sank, sunk.  Attaching skis and an outboard motor work better, but he crashes into Tweety’s island. Hey, since you’re all the way there now, it’d be stupid to return to shore, right?

No, because then he’d be stuck waiting for the tide. He finally decides to just swim out via water wings (that’s what those are, right?) but that’s when the sharks show up. We don’t see more than the dorsal fins, but they’re obviously dogfish. (I really don’t like myself.) Too bad the tuna got Sylvester’s gun. Granny finally exits the changing room. Poor dear is really out of touch. Her “bikini” could only get away with such a label in the 1890’s, perhaps. Just for that, there’ll be no more Bea Benaderet voicing you. Somebody tell June to show up early this year!

As any pet owner would be, Granny is upset to find her bird lost at sea, and easy octopus pickin’s. Sylvester the lifeguard to the rescue! I love his little outfit! (I say “love” too much. I should really switch it up.) Granny loves him too, mistaking this for an act of heroism. He crashes, and she plans to revive him via bucket of water. Both end swallowed by the ocean. (This might be the record of times Sylvester was swallerd.) Time for a team-up.

Granny mans the pumps while Sylvester treks out in a diving suit. (Makes me wonder if she can understand him in this short.) Too bad they took too long, and Tweety just decided to save himself by rowing back to the beach. (Would his cage really float?) So elated at finding her darling unharmed, Granny leaves her post to reunite. With no one at the pump, Sylvester begins suffocating. Granny remembers him though, and does to her best to compensate. That’s more air than Sylvester can breathe and it has to go somewhere…

He bails from the now floating suit, somehow anticipating this very situation, seeing as he has a parachute. Granny has lost sight of him now, and is upset because she really feels like the cat deserves a reward. He gets the exact opposite, drifting into the institution you always find near the beach: the dog pound. It’s just good manners to give them one day of fun before they have to be put down.

Favorite Part: Honestly, the team-up. It’s funny to think Granny is unknowingly abetting in attempted murder. In fact, they really should have made it last throughout the picture.

Personal Rating: 3. Good. But Oscar worthy? I don’t see it.