*
It's time for another cartoon!
In which we discover the secret of Ring-A-Ding Spring. Sorry about the "spoiler" in the YouTube preview thumbnail above.
Hoppity's hometown, Foggy Bogg, Wisconsin, shares a bucolic Great
Lakes vibe with Frostbite Falls, Minnesota, but sounds much more
inviting to me (preferring temperate swamps to gangrenous toes). Waldo and Fillmore are itinerant swindlers, but adopt the town as their hideout/headquarters.
From what I read, this set of episodes was the Ward/Scott pilot for the series. The fist two episodes were produced in 1960, with Alan "Fred Flintstone" Reed voicing Fillmore before being contracted to portray the Kramdenesque caveman for ABC. Bill "Bullwinkle" Scott took over Fillmore duties in parts 3 and 4, but I don't detect any jarring change in the bear's tone or manner with that change.
Surprisingly to me, Hoppity is not voiced by June "Rocky" Foray, but by a woman named Chris Allen. I can find little about her with my limited search engine skills (partially due to her very common name), but most of her credits seem to be with the Hanna-Barbera studio. I think she's pretty good.
Hans Conreid, a Hollywood character actor whose career was extended by Ward for the benefit of all of us, creates a perfect maniac in Professor Wigglesworth. Another thing I like about the character is the percussion accompaniment to his brainstorms, starting in this episode at about 1:20 in the background and rising to a crescendo (with reprise!) over the next 25 seconds or so. This sound effect appears in most Ward/Scott creations, but only very briefly. I wonder if it was created by Spike Jones or an associate. It really should be a standard ringtone for the iPhone. (And I'm gonna make it one or my name isn't Lattimore!)
This episode is music-heavy, which I've noticed in a handful of shorts from this era of the studio's output. It may have been experimentation; to my ears it sounds somewhat awkward. I assume they went sparser in the sound bed for economic reasons, though, as opposed to purely aesthetic ones. Also take note of the general style of art, especially the backgrounds, which is very similar to the landscapes featured in the Metal Munching Moon Mice story on Rocky and His Friends around that time.
"Ring-A-Ding Spring, Part 2," Hoppity Hooper (1962, Jay Ward Productions), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Saturday Night Fish Fry!!!
*
I don't think anybody plays the role of comical ultraviolent maniac like Louis Jordan.
I don't know about you, but to me this guy sounds scarier than any rap-chart "gangsta" I've ever heard. There's no preening here; he's a natural-born Method Actor. In the right time---meaning at least 15 years after his prime, unfortunately---I think Jordan might have been a very successful mainstream comic actor.
(Editor's note: not my fault, but I apologize for the crappy visuals that the poster attached to the front end of the video. At least he uploaded a masterpiece for us to enjoy, though.)
Dad Gum Ya Hide, Boy, Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five (1954, from "One Guy Named Louis: The Complete Aladdin Sessions"; CD reissue Capitol Jazz CDP 7 96804 2 [1992]), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
I don't think anybody plays the role of comical ultraviolent maniac like Louis Jordan.
I don't know about you, but to me this guy sounds scarier than any rap-chart "gangsta" I've ever heard. There's no preening here; he's a natural-born Method Actor. In the right time---meaning at least 15 years after his prime, unfortunately---I think Jordan might have been a very successful mainstream comic actor.
(Editor's note: not my fault, but I apologize for the crappy visuals that the poster attached to the front end of the video. At least he uploaded a masterpiece for us to enjoy, though.)
Dad Gum Ya Hide, Boy, Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five (1954, from "One Guy Named Louis: The Complete Aladdin Sessions"; CD reissue Capitol Jazz CDP 7 96804 2 [1992]), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
Fascists always get the best stuff
*
For us progressive amateur aesthetes, it's always been somewhat unsettling that so much top-drawer design has emerged from 20th century European fascist regimes. Does anybody have any insight into why that might be? My first guess would have something to do with repressed homoerotic urges.
Meanwhile, Behold the 1938 Hispano-Suiza Dubonnet Xenia:
I wonder what Franco's army tanks looked like. We do know that his son, a military pilot, thought that the bombs he dropped on unarmed Ethiopians looked like flower blossoms when they exploded.
The only company I'm aware of that consistently produces world-class industrial design today is Apple, which thrust itself into the public mind with it's "iconic" (and in my opinion overrated) 1984 Superbowl commercial. Old-timers will remember that the archetypal living symbol of Freedom and Justice For All---noted war hero, business executive, and human-rights crusader Ronald Reagan---was presiding over the American Experiment at that very moment in history.
It may be hard to believe that, at one time, high design in computer technology could be achieved with putty-colored plastic, a 9 in. monochrome TV picture tube, and a handful of simple picto-glyphs and 16-bit screen fonts. You had to be there; your mainstream business-grade alternative was an IBM (or clone) PC box about the size of Francisco Franco's tombstone displaying its data on a bile-green 8-bit VGA monitor, or amber if you were really uptown. No mouse necessary, or available! (And, yes, Amiga fascists, I do know about your pet machine. Highly respectable, but no design awards from this amateur aesthete.)
Mac 128 image above ganked from this blog, but it certainly doesn't belong to him!
For us progressive amateur aesthetes, it's always been somewhat unsettling that so much top-drawer design has emerged from 20th century European fascist regimes. Does anybody have any insight into why that might be? My first guess would have something to do with repressed homoerotic urges.
Meanwhile, Behold the 1938 Hispano-Suiza Dubonnet Xenia:
The only company I'm aware of that consistently produces world-class industrial design today is Apple, which thrust itself into the public mind with it's "iconic" (and in my opinion overrated) 1984 Superbowl commercial. Old-timers will remember that the archetypal living symbol of Freedom and Justice For All---noted war hero, business executive, and human-rights crusader Ronald Reagan---was presiding over the American Experiment at that very moment in history.
It may be hard to believe that, at one time, high design in computer technology could be achieved with putty-colored plastic, a 9 in. monochrome TV picture tube, and a handful of simple picto-glyphs and 16-bit screen fonts. You had to be there; your mainstream business-grade alternative was an IBM (or clone) PC box about the size of Francisco Franco's tombstone displaying its data on a bile-green 8-bit VGA monitor, or amber if you were really uptown. No mouse necessary, or available! (And, yes, Amiga fascists, I do know about your pet machine. Highly respectable, but no design awards from this amateur aesthete.)
Mac 128 image above ganked from this blog, but it certainly doesn't belong to him!
Wake up, Useless!
*
It's time for a cartoon!
I think everyone can agree that Hoppity Hooper had about the hippest opening title theme ever. Wikipedia says it's called "Fight Fiercely, Young Teddy!" (!!!?), composed by Dennis Farnon.
Also, keep your eye on Uncle Waldo through this series (which I will continue). He's somewhat more picaresque than most Jay Ward / Bill Scott characters, including Boris Badenov. At least Boris had ideological reasons---not to mention a high motivation in avoiding his own liquidation at the hands of Fearless Leader or Mister Big---to keel Moose and Squirrel. If I remember correctly (haven't actually re-watched this one before embedding), at some point during this story Uncle Waldo casually plots to waste Hoppity purely for material gain. A kiddie-show sociopath who speaks to our times!
"Ring-A-Ding Spring, Part 1," Hoppity Hooper (1962, Jay Ward Productions), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
It's time for a cartoon!
I think everyone can agree that Hoppity Hooper had about the hippest opening title theme ever. Wikipedia says it's called "Fight Fiercely, Young Teddy!" (!!!?), composed by Dennis Farnon.
Also, keep your eye on Uncle Waldo through this series (which I will continue). He's somewhat more picaresque than most Jay Ward / Bill Scott characters, including Boris Badenov. At least Boris had ideological reasons---not to mention a high motivation in avoiding his own liquidation at the hands of Fearless Leader or Mister Big---to keel Moose and Squirrel. If I remember correctly (haven't actually re-watched this one before embedding), at some point during this story Uncle Waldo casually plots to waste Hoppity purely for material gain. A kiddie-show sociopath who speaks to our times!
"Ring-A-Ding Spring, Part 1," Hoppity Hooper (1962, Jay Ward Productions), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Concerning pawns and corporate theft
*
Hasbro Corp., heir to the Parker Brothers board game portfolio, was in the news this week for a group-participation publicity stunt having the goal of stimulating sales of back stock and endless permutations of new, special-edition merchandise to shut-ins.
If I cared about this, I'd say that cats do not belong on the Monopoly board. Prowling the estate to ambush rodents and squirrels, yes. Purring in your grandmother's lap, swaddled in her paisley shawl, sure. (On YouTube? Hell no!) I'll interrupt myself by adding that the Monopoly board is no place for a Scotty dog, either. And, too, I'm not so partial to the battleship. The animal kingdom should be represented on the board by, say, a lead-based vulture and a water moccasin.
Predictably, intrepid journalist types will eat up an "exciting campaign" like this, and in the current particular case may even pretend to look for deeper social meaning:
Monopoly is a game that transforms bloodthirsty, exploitative conduct into cute fun. And a good time is had by all! (Boomp boomp!) The domestic clothes-pressing iron has, on at least one documented occasion, been used as a weapon of cold-blooded murder (by a killer cartoonist!). And so, both as a symbol of the forced domestication of modern females and the weaponization of consumerism, the iron befits the Monopoly board well, being equally at home on Baltic Avenue, Boardwalk, or in Jail.
Personally, I think there's a much more fascinating story about Monopoly that isn't widely known. We could argue that an economic monopoly is corporate theft through application of The Law Of The Jungle. But one author argues with dead certainty that the board game Monopoly is theft---that is, it became private "intellectual property" through an act of theft from the public domain.
According to this outstanding article I read in Harper's a few months ago, called "Monopoly is Theft," the "official" history of the game began in 1933, "invented" by "an unemployed steam-radiator repairman and part-time dog walker" named Charles Darrow. It's a stirring saga of an irrepressible entrepreneur and a scrappy-but-failing board game company, except (as author Christopher Ketcham informs us) it's not true. One obvious problem with the corporate history of Monopoly is that the game had already been around for 30 years, under a different name---The Landlord's Game---but very similar design:
Hasbro Corp., heir to the Parker Brothers board game portfolio, was in the news this week for a group-participation publicity stunt having the goal of stimulating sales of back stock and endless permutations of new, special-edition merchandise to shut-ins.
If I cared about this, I'd say that cats do not belong on the Monopoly board. Prowling the estate to ambush rodents and squirrels, yes. Purring in your grandmother's lap, swaddled in her paisley shawl, sure. (On YouTube? Hell no!) I'll interrupt myself by adding that the Monopoly board is no place for a Scotty dog, either. And, too, I'm not so partial to the battleship. The animal kingdom should be represented on the board by, say, a lead-based vulture and a water moccasin.
Predictably, intrepid journalist types will eat up an "exciting campaign" like this, and in the current particular case may even pretend to look for deeper social meaning:
Consider the kitty cat’s victory as both an expression of what economics should really be about – supporting our ability to do what the heck we want with our time – and as a vote of confidence in our national need to relax a bit.True. Economics should really be about doing "what the heck we want". For instance, packing a Glock 17 in a tavern, or not paying any taxes to support the amenities of US citizenship, or paying your lawmaker's campaign committee to help make sure minorities and old people can't vote in the next election.
Monopoly is a game that transforms bloodthirsty, exploitative conduct into cute fun. And a good time is had by all! (Boomp boomp!) The domestic clothes-pressing iron has, on at least one documented occasion, been used as a weapon of cold-blooded murder (by a killer cartoonist!). And so, both as a symbol of the forced domestication of modern females and the weaponization of consumerism, the iron befits the Monopoly board well, being equally at home on Baltic Avenue, Boardwalk, or in Jail.
Personally, I think there's a much more fascinating story about Monopoly that isn't widely known. We could argue that an economic monopoly is corporate theft through application of The Law Of The Jungle. But one author argues with dead certainty that the board game Monopoly is theft---that is, it became private "intellectual property" through an act of theft from the public domain.
According to this outstanding article I read in Harper's a few months ago, called "Monopoly is Theft," the "official" history of the game began in 1933, "invented" by "an unemployed steam-radiator repairman and part-time dog walker" named Charles Darrow. It's a stirring saga of an irrepressible entrepreneur and a scrappy-but-failing board game company, except (as author Christopher Ketcham informs us) it's not true. One obvious problem with the corporate history of Monopoly is that the game had already been around for 30 years, under a different name---The Landlord's Game---but very similar design:
The game’s true origins, however, go unmentioned in the official literature. Three decades before Darrow’s patent, in 1903, a Maryland actress named Lizzie Magie created a proto-Monopoly as a tool for teaching the philosophy of Henry George, a nineteenth-century writer who had popularized the notion that no single person could claim to “own” land.Yes, ladies and gentlemen: Monopoly began life as an "open source" educational tool for teaching people the economic philosophy of a 19th century socialist! And the objective of the game was to thwart the monopolist, not to become one. Then the game was shoplifted from the public domain by Depression-era capitalists, and eventually mutated into such lucrative niche varietals as "University of Illinois Monopoly" and "Rockopoly". The article is quite long, but really informative and captivating if you have any interest in economics, intellectual property law, or American history. I definitely recommend printing the article out, in full, preferably on your company's laser printer.
Image retrieved from http://www.slowfamilyonline.com/tag/landlords-game/, reproduced here for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Special to Gurlitzer
*
Concerning your remark about the Trillion-Dollar Doubloon:
I never thought of it that way, but I think "economic semantics" is a very fitting metaphor for the concept. Unless you're talking hard currency, which is basically no different than any other form of barter, I think it's generally accurate to say money is a symbol of value, taken on faith in the probability of new wealth being created in the future through the extraction of raw materials and/or labor to be performed. The acceptance of a national fiat currency in return for work performed might be seen as an implicit investment---whether willingly or not---in growth of the economy.
A government may wisely "run the printing presses" if there isn't enough money in circulation to support consumption and productive investment. The objective is to increase the nation's money supply---a completely reasonable and even necessary duty under certain circumstances. A Congressionally imposed "debt ceiling" means that the Treasury cannot "run the printing presses" without Congressional approval, not even for spending that Congress has already authorized with appropriations. This is a stupid policy that should not be on the books. The Trillion-Dollar Doubloon would be an alternate way for the Treasury to increase the money supply, but without Congressional approval. It's widely been judged to be a legal option, and the specific workflow for doing it has been described elsewhere.
For reasons he and his advisers know best, Bronco Bummer declared that he wouldn't invoke that executive prerogative. I'm not clear whether or not he took it off the table for the duration of his reign, but I'd guess he has. So now we get another sequester. (Notice how no one is calling it a "fiscal cliff" this time? I wonder why.)
Concerning your remark about the Trillion-Dollar Doubloon:
I never thought of it that way, but I think "economic semantics" is a very fitting metaphor for the concept. Unless you're talking hard currency, which is basically no different than any other form of barter, I think it's generally accurate to say money is a symbol of value, taken on faith in the probability of new wealth being created in the future through the extraction of raw materials and/or labor to be performed. The acceptance of a national fiat currency in return for work performed might be seen as an implicit investment---whether willingly or not---in growth of the economy.
A government may wisely "run the printing presses" if there isn't enough money in circulation to support consumption and productive investment. The objective is to increase the nation's money supply---a completely reasonable and even necessary duty under certain circumstances. A Congressionally imposed "debt ceiling" means that the Treasury cannot "run the printing presses" without Congressional approval, not even for spending that Congress has already authorized with appropriations. This is a stupid policy that should not be on the books. The Trillion-Dollar Doubloon would be an alternate way for the Treasury to increase the money supply, but without Congressional approval. It's widely been judged to be a legal option, and the specific workflow for doing it has been described elsewhere.
For reasons he and his advisers know best, Bronco Bummer declared that he wouldn't invoke that executive prerogative. I'm not clear whether or not he took it off the table for the duration of his reign, but I'd guess he has. So now we get another sequester. (Notice how no one is calling it a "fiscal cliff" this time? I wonder why.)
Status report
*
Here are some overlong remarks from your host pertaining to recent events, and how blog posting has been temporarily overcome by them:
My email notification for new replies to posts has been broken for about a month, so I haven't known when you are checking in. My ISP has been worthless in helping me to unlock the mailbox I use for that, so I'm going to have to set up a new one.
My wireless net has been making a maniac out of me for a few weeks, having refused to connect my computers to my printers, and I've wasted some prime blogging time over two weekends cocking around with every alternate mode of configuring these devices. Here's a "pro tip": before you spend days repeating the same procedures that haven't worked any previous time, check the firmware on your router and update it, then reboot the router. Idiot.
I've slowly brought what should have been a relatively simple kitchen repair (19 years overdue!) close to a thrilling conclusion. Back in November I found some usable replacement parts for a pair of woodwork fixtures that I thought I'd have to order custom-milled. Installing these parts and making them work correctly in the allotted physical space has required a series of adaptations at each and every miserable step, with several decisions to be made between doing a fast job, a half-assed job, or perfection. After a month of dithering I figured out how to do an 80%-assed job, and after another month I forced myself to postpone my worry about fucking it up and dealing with that at the appropriate time, if necessary. I'm actually thorough all the work that could have imperiled the quality of the final result, and it's turned out reasonably well. Moral: there ain't a job in the world that's impossible if you have a cellar full of booze and fistfuls of pills! I'll post a photo and description after I get the last mounting holes drilled and all the screws driven.
Regressing in time by a month or two, a vicious workplace conflict that had been tamped down by a previous supervisor about 8 years ago suddenly ripped its way back through the fabric of reality, keeping me off balance and unsettled for several weeks. My newish boss, whose office is located 650 miles away (a great amenity in most cases, but not this one), seems to have finally gotten a handle on this decades-old situation and has banished my antagonist to the forbidden netherworld of ceasing hostile workplace communications and following instructions that he has been given. But for how long?
Further back, through an illness and typical holiday-season distractions, my mother passed away. She left this world the day after the presidential election, and her memorial service and burial involved a trip through Paul Ryan Country to Nowheresville, Wisconsin, where she was raised. I spoke at her funeral; it was an interesting task to (write and) speak both candidly and kindly of her, because she was a very difficult person for most of the time we siblings knew of her. I've had a memorial post prepared in my head since that time, but have delayed uploading it for no other reason than preoccupation with mundane challenges and wanting to have my mind fully present when I do that. I reckon that will finally happen this weekend. (Don't worry, siblings: I'll give each of you the same slow-cooked consideration if you make it to the other side before I do.)
Here are some overlong remarks from your host pertaining to recent events, and how blog posting has been temporarily overcome by them:
My email notification for new replies to posts has been broken for about a month, so I haven't known when you are checking in. My ISP has been worthless in helping me to unlock the mailbox I use for that, so I'm going to have to set up a new one.
My wireless net has been making a maniac out of me for a few weeks, having refused to connect my computers to my printers, and I've wasted some prime blogging time over two weekends cocking around with every alternate mode of configuring these devices. Here's a "pro tip": before you spend days repeating the same procedures that haven't worked any previous time, check the firmware on your router and update it, then reboot the router. Idiot.
I've slowly brought what should have been a relatively simple kitchen repair (19 years overdue!) close to a thrilling conclusion. Back in November I found some usable replacement parts for a pair of woodwork fixtures that I thought I'd have to order custom-milled. Installing these parts and making them work correctly in the allotted physical space has required a series of adaptations at each and every miserable step, with several decisions to be made between doing a fast job, a half-assed job, or perfection. After a month of dithering I figured out how to do an 80%-assed job, and after another month I forced myself to postpone my worry about fucking it up and dealing with that at the appropriate time, if necessary. I'm actually thorough all the work that could have imperiled the quality of the final result, and it's turned out reasonably well. Moral: there ain't a job in the world that's impossible if you have a cellar full of booze and fistfuls of pills! I'll post a photo and description after I get the last mounting holes drilled and all the screws driven.
Regressing in time by a month or two, a vicious workplace conflict that had been tamped down by a previous supervisor about 8 years ago suddenly ripped its way back through the fabric of reality, keeping me off balance and unsettled for several weeks. My newish boss, whose office is located 650 miles away (a great amenity in most cases, but not this one), seems to have finally gotten a handle on this decades-old situation and has banished my antagonist to the forbidden netherworld of ceasing hostile workplace communications and following instructions that he has been given. But for how long?
Further back, through an illness and typical holiday-season distractions, my mother passed away. She left this world the day after the presidential election, and her memorial service and burial involved a trip through Paul Ryan Country to Nowheresville, Wisconsin, where she was raised. I spoke at her funeral; it was an interesting task to (write and) speak both candidly and kindly of her, because she was a very difficult person for most of the time we siblings knew of her. I've had a memorial post prepared in my head since that time, but have delayed uploading it for no other reason than preoccupation with mundane challenges and wanting to have my mind fully present when I do that. I reckon that will finally happen this weekend. (Don't worry, siblings: I'll give each of you the same slow-cooked consideration if you make it to the other side before I do.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
