Category: Looney Tunes

Cartoons that were labeled as “Looney Tunes.”

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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.

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Daffy Doodles

“I hate that d-d-duck.”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Warren Foster; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on April 16, 1946.

The first for Robert! And you know what? He deserves it. He’d been there since the beginning and would stick to the end. With that said, I do have to admit he’s my least favorite of the “big” directors. He just didn’t have many pictures that really wowed me the way the others’ did.

There’s a demon on the loose in the city. Their words, not mine. The narrator isn’t even sure what they look like. It could be me, but it isn’t. It could be you, but you’re better than that. What little information we do have is what the fiend is up to: putting mustaches on all the ads. I’d say that’s minor at best, and pretty childish. But it is graffiti. Funny graffiti that would probably make the populace notice your sign more, but I’m not the law.

The title was on to something! Daffy is indeed the one doing this. We’ve all got our purposes in life. Mine is to make people glad they’re not me, yours is to tell me I’m more than that, and Daffy’s is to paint. It’s niche, but it’s what he’s good at. You wouldn’t ask Dali to paint a still life of ham and swiss and not expect him to make each hole on the cheese a mouth and the meat covered in snails that have crab shells, would you?

The city’s finest better be called in to deal with this. And that means a guy who is a pig literally and figuratively. Porky fits. (And I’m sorry if you find me calling a cop a pig rude. You must not know how I feel about pigs.) His plan is to hold a picture frame around his face, and not move. No blinking, breathing, swallowing or twitching. At least he’s mastered not sweating. Daffy isn’t so easily fooled, being a master of his profession and all. He just leaves a box in front of Porky with the typical “Do not open until Xmas”. But that’s this week, and Porky won’t be around then, so it’s logical to look now.

Daffy was in the box and gives Porky a ‘stache. And it looks amazing! Rugged, manly, sexy, tough… these are all fine words, but I chose ‘amazing’. Porky gives chase, but Daffy is able to lose him by playing porter and getting Porky into a subway car. Now that he’s gotten a taste for painting flesh, Daffy holds out his brush to give every passenger a lip tickler. Daring choice giving an infant the Hitler look. Poor Chaplin. You will never be anybody’s first guess unless they’re trying to misdirect others.

The downside to Daffy’s hobby is that he’s easy to track. Just follow the latest line of mustaches. They’re on the pictures of the stars at the theater. (The one on Bugs is a nice touch. And a hint of their relationship in the future.) Daffy then sees the largest billboard ever. Don’t point me to a bigger one and ruin my amazement. This will be great. Bigger is better! And better art is a masterpiece! Daffy sets to work, but Porky spots him up there and gets in position. As Daffy swings about painting, Porky pastes him on the head with his club. That’s more success than Wile E. ever had!

Daffy threatens to jump off if Porky comes nearer. Porky comes nearer and Daffy jumps. When Porky peeks over, Daffy, on the ledge just below, paints him again. It really suits you, man! Either grow a real one or pay the artist for his service already! The chase resumes along the building. Nice camera work! Daffy is even willing grab a hold of his pursuer when he loses his balance. Of course, that’s so he can turn the tables and chase Porky on a motorcycle. It’s great exercise!

The chase leads back on to the roof and the two fall through a skylight. In the rubble, Porky lends new meaning to the term “handlebar mustache”. Daffy makes his escape via the mail tube, and Porky goes looking for him at the corresponding mailbox. Being Daffy, he comes back to berate the officer for looking through the mail and slaps some cuffs on him. Now right where Porky wants him, he gets another bonk on the head and is taken to court.

Daffy pleads to the judge. He’s made some mistakes in his life, but isn’t the guilt punishment enough? He’s willing to make a fresh start if the law will just give him the chance. It’s all up to the jury. Said jury is a hive mind of Jerry Colonas. Maybe they’re convinced, maybe they’re just trying to indoctrinate more vessels to feed his majesty, the Jerry-rig. Whatever the reason, Daffy is grateful and vows to never paint another mustache. He’s got to keep up with the times, and fashion says beards are in!

Wait a minute! It didn’t say anything about fourth walls! HHEEAALLPP!

Favorite Part: Daffy pleading with the judge and remarking that he too might be a maniac someday. If I’m ever on trial, I’m going to try that.

Personal Rating: 3. Welcome aboard, the U.S.S. McKimson! We’ll be having plenty of chicken and visits to Australia!

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A Squeak in the Deep

“Well whaddya know? A yah-chit race.”

Always wanted to do a sea epic.

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Sid Marcus; Animation by Bob Matz, Manny Perez, Norm McCabe, George Grandpre, Ted Bonnicksen, and Warren Batchelder; Layouts by Dick Ung; Backgrounds by Tom O’Loughlin; Film Editor: Eugene Marks; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Walter Greene. A Looney Tune released on July 19, 1966.

That’s ‘yacht race’ for those of you who don’t speak Daffy. A race TO Hawaii. Liability waivers are included, right? You really think every entrant can sail that good? Not to mention the provisions needed… It sounds like a bad idea to me. And really, there’s no need for me to enter. I’ve been to Hawaii before. Well, the state, not the island. It still scratched any tropical itch I might have had. I’ll sit this one out. Not like I’d have any use for 6,000 pesos anyway.

I’m not talented at math, but I also get the feeling that getting a watercraft, and those previously mentioned provisions would cost more than the prize. But Daffy plays for the love of the greed. Speedy also plans to enter, but he’s got a more practical reason: money buys cheese, and a goodly amount of money buys a greatly amount of cheese. You’d think Daffy wouldn’t take Speedy seriously, but he knows by now the mouse is crafty. He shoves him into a can and kicks him away, saying he won’t be competing. Speedy’s competing, then?

Race Day! And are there any rules? I mean, that entrant is using a motor whereas the most of the rest are using sails. And don’t you need sails to be a yacht? Yacht’a know, right? Daffy’s craft is humble. That’s not me being too polite. No, calling Speedy’s ride humble is too polite. It’s a bathtub! How’d he even get that here? How does he get his nose to change color like that? The contest begins and Daffy actually manages to get a good lead. And he’s one of the sail users! Toon wind is powerful stuff!

It’s not long before Speedy outpaces the duck, so Daffy pulls his plug, making a sub out of the tub. Because there are plenty of carp-enters under the sea, Speedy returns in a paddle boat. (It’s a cartoon, are you really going to point out carp are freshwater? When that’s my job?) He runs along the paddles to make it go, which is really smart with his speed. And the little flag is adorable! The only thing it lacks is an anchor, but Daffy allows him to borrow his. It’s not on the proper scale, so it works too well.

Speedy next utilizes our pollution to aid him. One of the myriad of helium balloons that end up in our oceans carries him back to Daffy’s craft. We really do use too much plastic, though. Don’t buy a 3D printer. He tells Daffy that they should team-up. If they do, then they can split the prize! Daffy has no need for that, his head cel is already split from his torso background! Wow. I really mean that. You can interpret it further if you wish. Speedy hides from Daffy in a pipe, and sprays Daffy off the boat when he peeks in.

When Daffy’s had enough, he chases Speedy with a baseball bat. Speedy keeps taking it away and bashing him from different portholes. (They’re still called that on the starboard side, right?) Daffy tries entering one of the holes to get him, but gets himself stuck. Speedy paddles him good before stating his deal once more. Daffy refuses, so Speedy bats butt again. Daffy gives in, but he’s not budging on the 50-50 part. Speedy can have a smaller share and like it! Speedy still holds all the cards though, and Daffy is soon agreeing to his terms.

Partners help partners, so Speedy gets Daffy out of the hole, and Daffy can use his flippered feet to propel them along. I like their odds. That shark is great for motivation!

Favorite Part: When Daffy is thrown into the water, a curious fish needs to be shooed off. The second time this happens, he gets rid of it with a face that is so ridiculous and childish that it evolves into genuinely funny.

Personal Rating: 2.

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Calling Dr. Porky

“This’ll fix you up.”

Porky knows the bear facts.

Supervision by I. Freleng; Animation by Herman Cohen; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on September 21, 1940.

In the past, Porky had terrible luck with hospitals. Whether he need medical attention or not, he’d wind up with some looney trying to saw open his stomach without anesthesia. His choices were either never see a doctor again, or get his own M.D. and show them how it’s done. I think you know what he went with.

New Rightus hospital is a great place! And I’m not just saying that because I break my leg constantly to stay in the same building my beloved buddy works. I’m saying it because they capitalize on space by sticking patients in file cabinets. If all you’re going to do here is lay around, you don’t get to complain about lodgings. Shut up and heal.

Our latest patient looks like a waste of canine space, but he’s got a real condition: a disappearing collar! And a hangover. This doesn’t really sound like our jurisdiction, but Dr. Porky never turns anyone anyway when they are in need. And he can fit many patients in a single day because he cures people the same way Mario does: pills. I don’t know what the ‘Pink pills’ do, but boy are they tasty! He’ll see the drunkard, now named Dru, and the nurse sends him to the proper room.

He is not alone. As one should expect in cartoons, being pixilatedly plastered presents a person with a petite, pink, proboscidean, poltergeist posse. And yeah, they’re unnerving me. Maybe its because they’re ghostly transparent, or because they’re stalking somebody. Dru isn’t happy to have them around, but he can’t escape them, so he might as well let them tag along. Of course, once he gets the doctor’s attention, he devolves into a terrified, blubbering mess.

Porky has seen this all before, so he knows exactly how to remedy the situation. All Dru has to do is sit down and wait. Then, guess who shows up. Right. It’s Pinky, Pinkey and Pinkquay. They’re sporting medical hats now because they’ve outgrown their cute innocent baby phase. Now, they’ve come to torment. As if doctors aren’t already scary enough. They belay instructions for Dru to follow, and he does because, what other choice does he have? Angering them could cause them to evolve into their final form. You don’t want to see that.

Their poking, prodding, pestering and pulverizing has led them to the only viable solution to save Dru’s life: operation. Not the annoying board game, the real kind with saws and organs. It’s in their best interest too, because they only exist as long as Dru is alive. (There’s an idea for a short film: a drunken hallucination trying to make the short time they’re alive awesome.) Once he’s in the operating chair, they can get down to brass tacks.

First: question time. Treating him like he’s on trial, they ask everything; not caring if they get any answer. We don’t find out where Dru lives, or his marital status or even his name. I was really looking forward to finding out who he voted for too. You know, I think the little gremlins are messing him for their own amusement. Any sympathies fall on deaf ears and are returned with mockery and laughter. They sound like rumors mixed with Tress Macneille. Combined with their diabolically, evil faces… yeah, they’re unnerving me. I’d be screaming for Porky along with Dru, too.

Lucky timing. The cure is ready! And if you had any doubts, they should dissipate along with those fuchsia freaks. Dru is back to how he was meant to be: sober, confident, well groomed. (Are you allowed to call someone that anymore?) He leaves the hospital ready to face the world. And the world spits in his eye. There’s a circus parade outside, and guess who is at the end of the parade of elephants. They had to go somewhere! Dru runs back to the comforts of New Rightus, vowing to never again step foot outside into the cruel, cold, uncaring world.

He hops in bed, only for those pinker stinkers to throw him out. They’re just not his problem anymore.

Favorite Part: You gotta love how even Dru’s stupor stooges wince at his brew breath.

Personal Rating: 2. I applaud for making those drunken terrors look more non-corporeal, but being in grayscale makes them blend into the backgrounds more often than not. It almost makes he want to recommend the ugly recoloring version, and I feel like I should cut out my tongue and eat it for saying so. Porky barely features as well.

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Buddy of the Legion

“Don’t never do that!”

Supervision by Ben Hardaway; Musical Score, Bernard Brown; Animation by Bob Clampett and Charles Jones. A Looney Tune released on April 4, 1935.

Ye Olde Book Shoppe is hiring. For a boy, specifically. Anyone care to fill us in on what that entails? Obviously, its for males, but are they supposed to be minors so they can pay them less? While I puzzled, Buddy decided to accept the offer and apply. The owner has him go through the application process: removing his hat. I don’t see any lice, and his biceps are almost visible. He’s hired! He can start with some light dusting.

Buddy utilizes his power to rub a feather duster over the sitting parts of lady statues and cat anuses. Buddy belongs on a list. He also likes torturing small animals, as he takes a fish out of its bowl to give it the same treatment. Buddy belongs in hell. His boss is stepping out. Lunch I guess. Maybe brunch. Maybe she’s leaving right as brunch is almost up, so she can order that, then stay for the lunch menu. Women eat. I actually find it attractive when they’re not worried about their weight. But this isn’t about me.

Buddys next task is to put some of the books away. Why were they left out at all? Did the boss get them out of a box, then decide she was too important to place them on a shelf? Was it those rambunctious teens who’s idea of a good time is to take books off shelves, but NOT read them? Are they just books she set aside to give Buddy something to do that isn’t perverted and cruel? Trying to get them all in one handful sends them flying out of his grasp. I feel this pain. Try the vertical stack. You can’t see your destination, but the books are more stable.

Cue insect. I see stripes and a proboscis, so I’ve narrowed it down to bee, fly or bee fly. Eh, narrow it down further to the last too, as Buddy isn’t afraid of potential venom injection. Swatting at the innocent creature makes him lose his grip and the books are on the floor once more. One opens to a picture of a foreign legionnaire, and Buddy is interested. Forgoing his duties, he reads on further of exotic African lands full of sexy ladies and Amazons. Wait… Were they an actual threat out there?

Imagination make existence better! Buddy sees himself as leader of the troops and marches them through the sands. I’ve never been to Africa, but I’m guessing marching in its deserts aren’t nearly as fun as cartoons make them out to be. Unless you find solifuges. But I’m still wondering about dangerous Amazons. What are the odds of them being- There’s an outpost of them right over there, isn’t there? They’re big and brawny, and not too attractive. To me, at least. That doesn’t mean they don’t have fans.

Their prisoners are not among those fans. They have men captured and are forcing them to do the most demeaning, dehumanizing, demented, task imaginable: laundry. A toast to my mother who always did that without losing her sanity. She was my favorite superhero until I discovered the Powerpuff Girls. If the book hadn’t given Buddy reason to imagine this setting, I’d be thinking he had major hangups with his boss that he’s known for less than a moment. (90 seconds.)

These ladies spend most of their time smoking. It’s all they’ve got when the solifuges aren’t around. Their outfits alter on their bodies, and their hookahs change color, so they can comfortably be considered ‘bad guys’. I don’t make the rules, I just create them. Apart from coloring their lungs, they keep lookouts for more victims. They lose so many due to extreme thirst making them take a gulp of lye water. But what are the odds- There’s a fresh batch within telescope distance, isn’t there?

The leader knows how to get the males to her lair. She has what a lot of straight men consider attractive on her side: a curvaceous woman without girth and zero language. And in the desert, lust always beats the hookah juice out of love. To keep this beauty fresh and ageless, she is preserved as a mummy when not in use. I don’t get it. Were we supposed to think she was going to sic an actual mummy on them? I was too busy looking at the guy in blackface. How come he doesn’t have to wash? (And if you say it’s because she doesn’t want her whites mixed with colors, I swear…)

The trap flies out via magic carpet, (Buddy, your imagination is getting cultures confused.) and she starts her stuff. Her dancing is entrancing, and she’s probably giving off pheromones as well. The Hayes code won’t be able to tell what we’re suggesting if we have the soldiers’ necks extend. One by one, Buddy’s troops fall out of rank, and follow the beauty. Buddy was immune, because he’s just a boy and thinks girls have crabs.

When the flies enter the spider’s parlor, they are punched to put them in their place. Although Buddy seems to appear mere milliseconds later, he finds them all at work, washing as if they’ve been at it for days. Buddy makes use of his small stature to trick his pursuers into too small holes, and to hide under things that are at the perfect height to smack the Amazon’s in the face. And all this time, I was wondering why you weren’t imagining yourself taller. Then the sneak attack gets him, and he is lightly shaken.

Because in reality, his boss has returned and isn’t pleased to find him reading the wares. You’d think he’d get a smidge of leeway on his first day, but no. Not at all. He is kicked from the premises but couldn’t give less of a crap. There are plenty more places to get fired from, and he’s not going to find them sitting on the sidewalk.

Favorite Part: I didn’t mention that Buddy’s brigade also has a camel. It’s also punched in the lady lair, but has enough to stamina to throw some punches in retaliation. Before just laying down with a ‘Why am I even trying?’ expression.

Personal Rating: 1. Why isn’t Buddy just part of the legion? I guess it makes it a bit different from other pictures in this location, but that gets you so far and not farther. Add in some sexism, offensively gay undertones, and a bland character and you have something that doesn’t age well. (Good thing the leader doesn’t use those as preservatives.)

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There Auto be a Law

“The automobile is the American’s prized possession.”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Tedd Pierce; Animation by Phil DeLara, Charles McKimson, Herman Cohen, and Rod Scribner; Layouts by Robert Givens; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on June 6, 1953.

I don’t much care for cars. They pollute and are too difficult for me to control. I’d learn, but the rest of the world would need to slow down and have a little patience. It’d be much easier to eat my way out of a bowhead whale. In one sitting, yet. But yeah, cars is our focus today. Not the Pixar series that everyone hates too much. (No seriously, “2” is a pretty good film.) Car gags, car jokes, and a car toon. Now that I’ve made the most obvious and trite one, we can see what the professionals have come up with.

We begin with a brief history of the motorized land vehicle. They were originally invented to be a horse that didn’t eat plant-based food. The name ‘Horseless cariage’ seemed a good fit, so they were named thusly. You could whip them just like a horse, so it wasn’t a difficult adjustment. But some cars were more stubborn, and would require four hands to get it moving. (Shoving.) Speaking of, the animation gets really jerky. What happened, Bob? Should I blame Herman?

As is the way of the human, they would get bored with current designs and constantly feel a need to update what was well enough left alone. Okay, so the windshield was an improvement. And the heater. The cup holders too. Everything else was extraneous. The suckers never stopped being expensive, but everyone and their dead relatives wanted one and couldn’t be denied. This led to the invention of something totally unexpected, the traffic jam. Sometimes it’s because of a wreck, sometimes it’s just a manner of too many drivers. This time: it’s a woman reapplying her make-up. (Hey! We know you!)

To try and keep things moving smoothly and quickly, highways were invented. Basic ones with little imagination, to full on clover-leafs. Those are expansive enough to get lost in, and such is the fate of an unlucky driver I’m gonna call Preston. He pulls over at the convenient hamburger stand for directions. If he keeps to the right, he should get out okay. Awfully decent of that man. I’d have said directions only come free with a purchase of a combo meal.

Sometimes roads would need to be built across bodies of water, and tolls would be charged to cross. It’s half price today, because the bridge is half built. You know, I might have called this my favorite part in the narration didn’t explain the punchline. We can see the joke. I’d be willing to let it get as far as saying “Oh, that’s why!” But please, respect my intelligence, and acknowledge my existence. (You really need two people to believe anything before there’s a possibility of it being true.)

Intersections can be scary. Especially the one’s located in Wile E.’s desert. You get in a wreck here, you lose your car and become more closely acquainted with the elements than is comfortable. Our driver stops carefully, looks both ways, then proceeds at an appropriate speed level. One of those people who think they are above fair rules drives right through him. The elements get their prize this time. But the real problem here is: Did Preston get off the loop safely?

He has not. He asks the burger man again and he’s still happy to help. Though, he says to go a different direction and keep left this time. Something wrong here! Maybe it’s as simple as getting kicks from sending people the wrong way, maybe it’s a devious punishment for not buying a delicious burger. Those cows died for you, you know. You really want to tell their calves that mommy died for no reason? No, veal isn’t an option.

We have cars that are good enough for a daily drive about town, but if its speed you need, you’d do better to look into a hot rod. These cars get rid of the all the junk that was just slowing them down, and allows you to attempt a new speed record. 130 mph isn’t too bad, but better can be done. That horseless carriage that goes by whip power humbles you good! It was fast enough to go through time, so you don’t have a chance. Just an overbite.

Parking spaces are where cars go to nap when you have no need of them for the moment. Some people make a decent living placing your vehicle in them while you spend your time entering buildings, getting on subways, and switching cars to avoid the cops. It takes finesse and skill. And not letting the customer notice you can scrunch their car width-wise to make sure it would fit. But there’s some decent folks in the world too. Those who will actually let you siphon gas. Don’t swallow it. It gives you carpox.

Preston pulls over one more time to see if the third time is the charm. Finally, the burger man admits the truth: he never knew how to get off this loop and has been stuck here for a decade. That’s why he built this stand; to fend off starvation. You’ll notice he doesn’t advertise his burgers as  being made of beef. It’s a good thing Preston was the second person who got stuck here today. At least now he’ll have someone to talk to. With no other option, Preston opens a topping stand. When that time traveler’s whip arm wears out, they’ll be just what he needs.

Favorite Part: A man taking careful measurements to be absolutely certain his car will fit into a garage. (Owned by Ken Harris, no less.) This could go several ways: it still doesn’t fit, he puts two cars in, he crashes, or he could really throw a loop and drive away. The right answer: he drives through two trees that weren’t growing far apart enough to pass through.

Personal Rating: 3. I’d like to give it a four, as its one of the stronger gag shorts, but I feel like that’s being a bit too generous. Just pretend I use decimal points and call it a 3.5.

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Porky the Giant Killer

“Everything s-seems to happen to me.”

If father wants another, there’s a place I know…

Supervision by Ben Hardaway and Cal Dalton; Story by Melvin Millar; Animation by Gil Turner; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on November 18, 1940.

It seems like a parade is passing through town, but Porky is ever the inquisitive type, so he won’t that possibility to chance. He joins the march to ask where they’re going and learns that this is a giant killing party. They’d normally send a tailor, but Porky’s name is in the title. He’s never killed a giant before, but he aims to ruin that perfect record. He’s coming along too, and I admit to feeling safer now. I’ll get a good night’s sleep knowing Porky is always looking out for me. He’s like God, but without all that “mysterious ways” bull.

But seriously, why do we want to kill the giant? Is he a bully? Or has he crushed somebody? Intentionally or not, that’s rather serious. Could it be that his mass is throwing the planet off its orbit and we’re doomed regardless but we’ll die happy knowing we made him bleed internally? No, his crime is even more despicable. He’s castle crashing. It’s never stated, but I’m kind of a smarty. The castle is not built with his scale in mind. This is no mistake on the background artists part; it was purposefully done. The giant has to sleep on various pieces of furniture. You don’t do that by choice.

Don’t be too mean, though. He may be a bad guy because our mob says so, but somebody loved him once. He’s a single parent, and a loving one too. Now me, I’m the type of oddity who thinks scorplings are adorable. With that said, his baby is ugly. But I’m not saying it to the kid’s face, so the figurative s.o.b. is nicer than the literal one. And come on now, any real parent doesn’t need the approval of guys they don’t know or like even like. If the parent thinks they have a cute kid, let them believe it.

The baby has just been put down for a nap and father tries to follow suit, but mobs aren’t designed for silence. Papa can tell there’s someone on the premises. He doesn’t sound too angry. Just a little annoyed that people are trespassing on property he called dibs on. Reminding us that mobs are cowards and wimps, everyone flees at his voice. Porky is stuck behind because they locked the door. Actually, how did the giant get in here? Crawling? You know, I think waiting for him to starve is a pretty sweet solution. Less effort is always awesome. That’s what the world’s been teaching most days.

Trapped with a monster in an enclosed space. Porky is like Theseus, but better. Pigs are always better. Even when a layering mix-up happens and Porky’s right leg appears to be superimposed on a pillar? Even then. Looking for a hiding place, Porky ends up in the baby’s cradle. Curious little creature, ain’t he? Instead of crying over being disturbed, he tries to grab Porky who switched to hiding underneath the cradle. Then he bites the kid’s hand. Gross, but awesome. Show him who’s boss!

It may have hurt, but sucking on the finger cures all. And exposes the baby to any diseases Porky might have been carrying. But that’s a long-term solution to this problem, so Porky has to babysit in the meanwhile. He plays games, gives bottles, and reminds the child that if he wasn’t an infant, Porky wouldn’t be showing mercy. Biting doesn’t count. All kids should get bitten by something before they turn five. Helps them realize that the world doesn’t care, life hurts, and I promised I wouldn’t talk like this again, didn’t I?

Now, do any longtime readers know what the worst aspect of children is? Do any longtime readers exist? Answers: 1. They are loud and not in a pleasant way. 2. If there are, they’re very shy. The kid will not shut up. Porky is able to calm him down by playing the baby’s piano and singing him the English alphabet. It’s a pretty catchy song disguised as a lesson. Why hasn’t anybody invented one for the numerical digits? Answer: 1. Because nobody really likes math. Anyone who says they do, are really just enjoying the fact they were able to conquer it.

As any good parent would, papa was attracted by his son’s cries. He’s pleased to see Porky entertaining his child and tries to get him to come talk. He doesn’t actually use words, and Porky is still afraid of him, so a chase through the castle begins. Porky ducks out a window, but the giant’s arms pull the same trick, leaving him stuck between the two. They make a grab, but Porky slips through the grasp and lands in the moat below. Too bad the panic is making him forget he’s a swim champion. Shore is just right there!

The giant appears and drinks the moat. With Porky high and dry – except he’s not really either, – the giant captures him. His plan? For Porky to sing him and his son to sleep. The downside is that he isn’t allowed to leave. Should’ve just talked when you had the chance, pal. You might have gotten paid. See you at visiting hours.

Favorite Part: Porky throwing a ball in the child’s face. I’m allowed to laugh because it happens after Porky tells the baby he won’t hurt him, and I’m pretty sure he was just trying to instigate a game of catch. That’s our loophole, your honor.

Personal Rating: 3. Some might argue it should be a two, but they don’t count.

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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.