One! Two! Three! FUCK!!!

*
The first "conspiracy theory" I remember: that Paulie was really hollering That Word on the fourth beat of his count.



I think today we all can accept the fact that the lads were just too polite to even be thinking that in the studio. But it was a debated point back in Mr. Phillips' 5th grade class at Woodland School. I always leaned toward the "FUCK!!!" theory, but mostly out of wishful thinking. Deep inside, I knew he really said "FAH!!!"

Below is an alternate version. In his dramatis personae, so to speak, John is voiced to sound like The Poor Man's Ape Named Ape, meaning a very pale echo of Ronald Colman.



These delightfully wretched cartoons, produced by Al Brodax, came along in 1965 as Saturday morning diversions. If I remember accurately, viewing these cartoons provided my first experience with cognitive dissonance.

I Saw Her Standing There, The Beatles (1963, multifarious video provenances too crazy to attempt documenting), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes. Consider yourselves educated. Please discuss and provide noncommercial commentary.

Wake up, Useless!

*
It's time for another cartoon!



In this episode, Waldo and his entourage are pursued by the hapless stock Jay Ward mafioso One-Way Waldrip, who speaks in the Bogart-like voice often heard in other Ward features such as Super Chicken and Tom Slick.

The Wikipedia writeup on this series is flawed and ambiguous, but offers some clues about why my memory of this Hoppity Hooper is so fragmentary. First, the production history is odd. "Ring-A-Ding Spring" was produced by Ward studios in 1960, but when the series was sold to ABC, production went to Gamma Studios. The scripts and voices were all Ward, but the visuals were animated by the same outfit that did Tennessee Tuxedo, Underdog, and Commander McBragg. Hoppity didn't have any native second features, but was filled both by recycled shorts from Rocky and His Friends, The Bullwinkle Show, and some of the Gamma features noted above. The Rocky show, Bullwinkle, and George of the Jungle, by contrast, all had a suite of dedicated shorts (with some cross-pollination from Rocky to Bullwinkle). As a show, Hoppity had a weak identity, even at the level of kid experience. A Marxist media critic might say that this represents an inflection point where the American art of the "cartoon show" overtly succumbed to commodification. Ironically, that view could partially explain why Hoppity Hooper is not today commercially available as a boxed set: it wouldn't "package" well as a series. A related problem is that it might be difficult to acquire the rights to recreate a Hoppity package featuring shorts from other Gamma productions.

Anyway, YouTube lets us see episodes of this almost-lost series. And thanks to the good offices of a fellow traveler, cartoonly speaking, I momentarily have access to other episodes not currently uploaded to the web. The obscurity of Hoppity Hooper really enhances their "flash value" to me.

"Ring-A-Ding Spring, Part 3," Hoppity Hooper (1962, Jay Ward Productions), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.

Wake up, Useless!

*
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.

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.

Tomorrow's matinee tonight

*

This looks like a job... for Superman!



Kee-reist, Clark---why don't you just announce it to all of Metropolis on the electric radio?

This is the third Superman feature released by Fleischer Studios, and it's some pretty weak sauce compared with most in the series. One thing that's odd is that it's really light on dialog; odd because the Fleischers usually give us a heaping helping of unhinged villains chewing up the scenery with their turgid threats and declamations. Here, after seeing a headline about the "largest single shipment of gold ever attempted" on a flashy, coal-fired streamline deco passenger train (?!), we are on our own for most of the feature. Not that it's very challenging to decode, but these cartoons generally spell things out very explicitly for the juvenile target audience. Why has it become a runaway train, for example, instead of just rolling to a stop or---more plausibly---Lois taking over the controls? She's a skilled pilot, after all, as we learned in episode 1. (She also has no problem handling a Tommy gun here.)

The scenery and action are beautifully rendered, as we would expect from the Fleischers. But the physics are mostly awful, especially where Superman is manhandling the train to keep it off the floor of the gorge. Usually, one of the best things about this series is the way the animators convey a sense of mass and kinetic energy through The Man Of Steel's interaction with objects. So even in this weak episode, they do come through for us in the scenes where Superman struggles to pull the train uphill. The sound effects of the train axles help to sell the illusion.

It's fortunate for this gang of gold rustlers that railroad rights-of-way were so wide and drivable in the early 1940s and were so accessible from any stretch of highway. I love the scene where, although the teargas seems to be getting the best of our hero, one of the bad guys panics and just chucks the whole crate of grenades at once. Something else the kids and I used to laugh at: the scenes where Superman pulls the train toward the camera and gets his crotch all up in the viewer's grille. This is not the only episode in which Fleischer animators used that visual point of reference, either.

One throwaway animation effect that looks quite difficult to have rendered is the guard's shadow moving on the newspaper front page starting at about 1:39. Also, at about 7:55 we get a nice architectural view of the Depression-era "government mint" complex, but I wonder why the monumental inscription on the arch faces the building interior.

Billion Dollar Limited (1942, "Superman" cartoon by Fleischer Studios for Paramount Pictures; Myron Waldman and Frank Endres, animators; Dave Fleischer, director), via YouTube, a work in the public domain embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

New Year's Eve

*

When Betty Boop sold herself to some 1%-ass mogul in the mid-1930s, possibly Hearst, her life was made for her, henceforth-wise. It looks like she lives in a scale model of Xanadu, in a neighborhood where every mansion even has its own rooster!



This Fleischer Brothers short subject portrays the morning after Betty's birthday party. But I am exercising blogger's license to state that her birthday happens to be 31 December, because first, I'm going for a holiday theme; and second, it's as likely as her having been born on any other day of the year except 29 February. (However, on momentary reflection, I'm thinking she might actually have been conceived on New Year's Eve. That's not a problem, though, since cartoon characters have a virtually instantaneous gestation period.)

Had this cartoon portrayed her 1933 party, it is likely that she would not have awakened alone---there would have been at least one animal in bed with her, and very possibly a spooky clown, too. But this event occurred after 1 July 1934, so our heroine slept alone. Hollywood's golden age of censorship depressed her enough that she put on some weight below the neck and lost some above. Plus most of her spunk (heh heh). Back in 1933, pre-Code, Betty went mano a mano fearlessly with gorillas, skeletons, hungry cannibals, and ogres; but in 1937, she is daunted by the mess her degenerate guests made of her crib. "I'm tired of cleaning things/But I'm tied to my apron strings," she complains. The plutocrat pig Hearst did this to you, baby---run for the hills, Betty! Burn the place to the ground! Call Bimbo and tell him to meet you back at St. James Infirmary!

Too late. Grampy's here. Well, at least he drives a bitchen roadster with four spare tires (just in case!), no doubt one of his original designs. Whatever flows through Grampy's veins, it seems much more effective than a 10% solution of the type Sherlock Holmes employed. Judging by Grampy's reaction to mainlining it at about 4:30, I'd guess a cocktail of mescaline, absinthe, and espresso... on Sunday morning, a few minutes after sunrise!

I think Dave Fleischer might have been trying to sneak something past the Code office at the very end, where Betty sucks down Grampy's thick, foamy head. How about you?

Happy New Year, "gangstas"!

House Cleaning Blues, Betty Boop and Grampy (1937, A Betty Boop Cartoon; Dave Fleischer, Director; Eli Brucker and David Tendlar, Animators; Fleischer Studios), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Saturday matinee

*

Come on, you fool! Do you want to get trampled?!?



In my view, Lois Lane is the real star of most of these 1940s Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons. She definitely wears the pants in her little menage with Kent and Superman.

First, she's always chiseling in on Kent's assignment, or stealing it outright, and ends up being the main reporter. (Not sure how Kent even keeps his job at the Daily Planet, considering his apparent lack of enterprise as compared with Lois.)

Second, she's the genuinely fearless member of the cast even if she does end up being humiliated on the dastardly villain's "sawmill" every time (in this episode, put into bondage over a cauldron of scalding, molten steel that the bad guy evidently keeps on the front burner, just in case). Superman needs no courage since he knows that he is inherently invincible.

Third, Lois must be stronger than hell judging by how she keeps her lunch hooks embedded in the robot's steel trapdoor at 3,000 feet while Superman helplessly bumbles off into a web of high-voltage power lines despite his supernatural physical endowment.

For purposes of brevity, I'll leave aside the discussion of intelligence since even a 6-year-old can discern that Superman is a dimwit. Lois is always doing dumb things in these animations, but Kent/Superman is just a dope, plain and simple.

Finally, I'd bet that Lois is a lot of fun behind closed doors. One can imagine her hollered warning to Kent (top of this post) to, in another context, double as an invitation to a night of fun in her own little BDSM dungeon.

Enjoy the animation and the industrial deco settings. I love how the robots slouch when they're deactivated instead of just locking down at attention---much more work to do things the Fleischer way, but the result was superior.

The Mechanical Monsters (1941, "Superman" cartoon by Fleischer Studios for Paramount Pictures; Steve Muffatti and George Germanetti, animators; Dave Fleischer, director), via YouTube, a work in the public domain embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

The Little Theater Screen

*

OK, this is for Saturday morning. But pipe down when you watch it---Dad's still sleeping!



I think this is one of Fleischer Studios' best and most diabolical cartoons ever. I can't think of another with so much nonstop visual invention. The only breaks in the action are there to inject suspense or move the anti-plot in a new direction. And the surreal thread that these scenes are strung upon writhes like something that the coroner might have tweezed out of Edgar Allen Poe's brain through a nostril. Except for the appearance of our special canine guest star and the awesome, fetishistic Radio City Music Hall finale.

Yes, they really did show these cartoons on TV in the 1950s, when there was a scarcity of made-for-TV animation. As I've mentioned before, though, Fleischer cartoons were not produced for Depression-era tots... at least not until Hollywood set up the Hayes censorship office and they put a dumpy housefrock on Betty Boop.

As a point of semi-interest, this short was released to theaters 80 years ago last Sunday (24 July).

Bimbo's Initiation, Dave Fleischer, Director (1931, A Fleischer Studios Talkartoon; Grim Natwick, Animator), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

"The Little Theater Screen" was invented by Frazier Thomas.

Saturday Matinee!

*

This nut may prove dangerous.



Here's a nice cartoon to let all my babies know I didn't abandon them! This is the very first Superman animated cartoon, dated late 1941, produced by the Fleischer Brothers. Dumb plots told in a setting of gorgeous eye cocaine. Unfortunately, this transfer is "ass," but there are a few affordable DVD collections that are very faithfully restored, and the visual style and animation "physics" are still astounding.

Let's say this cartoon is a parable. What do you think it's about? (Audience participation time!)

Posted quickly; will follow with information on provenance later. RubberCrutch is a busy man these days.

Saturday Night Fish Fry

*

Who ever said we couldn't have a multimedia fish fry on Saturday Night? Not me!



This 1933 Betty Boop cartoon from Fleischer Studios has so much going for it that I'm not sure what to start with. Almost always, Fleischer cartoons are about world-class Depression-era animation and backgrounds. But for a short time right after sound was wed to film action, the Fleischer Brothers collaborated with some of the greatest seminal northern jazz big bands to create extraordinary modern art. So I'll start with the music.

Don Redman was one of the giants of early jazz, probably much more important as an arranger than as an orchestra leader. But here he is, with his orchestra, getting top billing before Betty Boop herself in this short. I Heard presents a medley of three Redman compositions (with collaborators) that are all included in an out-of-print 1990 Redman collection called Don Redman And His Orchestra, 1931 - 1933 (1990, Classics 543). My favorite is the opener, called "Chant Of The Weed" (1931), which is based on a very unusual set of changes that quickly alternates between a major key and its relative minor (I think), the minor being remarkably avant garde and the major being a classic, upbeat jazz-age sound. The version in this cartoon is much more intriguing to me than the Classics reissue, which is faster and somewhat mechanical sounding. But in addition to the musical intro, look at all the work the Fleischers put into Redman's backdrop: a theatrical flat of Betty Boop's Saloon (it's called a Tavern in the actual cartoon) replete with live animated cutout cartoon animal heads!

Chant melds into "How'm I Doin' ? (Hey-Hey)," with the voice of Boop, Mae Questel, sharing the vocals with Redman (who also blows alto sax in addition to directing the band). As coal miners go, these fellas are really lucky: their lunch spot is, by night, a Hot Jazz club. The waiter (Redman's voice) advertises La Boop's after-hours shows to the guys, then gives 'em a taste of Betty whilst they feast on species-specific entrees.

Finally, the "story" transitions to the surreal sequence accompanied by the title piece, again with vocals by Redman and Questel. As purposely gimmicky as her voice is for these cartoons, Questel has an impressive mastery of rhythm; listen how she works ahead of the beat like a wired tommy gun during the telephone sequence.

But what you really should do, in my opinion, is just feast your eyes on everything. This world is bursting with action, visual puns, audiovisual synchronicity, violence, and the macabre. And there are plenty of the famous visual hi-jinx that characterized this series before stringent Hollywood censorship began cramping Betty's style in 1934. These include the usual mix of phallic symbols, lechery, and Betty's tendency to lose her clothing at least once per episode. To pointlessly state the obvious, these cartoons were always aimed at teenagers and adults, not the kiddies---like [adult swim] for Depression-era moviegoers.

I Heard, Betty Boop cartoon series, featuring Koko The Clown and Bimbo (1933, Fleischer Studios and Paramount Pictures, directed by Dave Flesicher, animated by Willard Bowsky and Myron Waldman), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

It's Bedtime!

*

Since I'll be spending my holidays, as always, in the eye a typhoon fueled by booze, pills, and burlesque dancers, I will get an early jump on my Christmas posting. Which is to say, I have a video confection here for The 59er and, incidentally, the rest of you. As The King used to say on Peewee's Playhouse, "Let the cartoon... begin!"



Thanks to The 59er for suggesting that I dedicate a few posts to commemorating Christmas. I'm happy to be challenged to find my own take on a topic of interest to others in the small cadre of people who spend their valuable time checking this blog a few times a week. The text that follows is animation-related, not Christmas-related, so you can stop reading here if you're not interested in the former.

This cartoon is another in the small series of Color Classics by Fleischer Studios through Paramount, released in December 1936. This is a really good print, and includes the original title cards. My eye isn't educated enough to know whether the almost gaudy coloring is faithful to the original Technicolor print or a restoration job; even if the former, it's A-OK with me---much better than the version I used to watch with my sons on VHS tape.

The opening scene is a vivid specimen of the Fleischer "Tabletop" background animation technique. What they did was draw, paint, and build miniature theatrical sets on large turntables. The sets were rotated in front of a fixed camera to simulate situations like walking down a city street, but unlike straight 2D backgrounds a realistic parallax shift would be evident between the closer and more distant planes of depth. In this example the animators also use a zoom effect to simulate how it would look if we walked in the front door of the orphanage.

The manic Grampy is, in the Fleischer universe, a pal of the latter-day Betty Boop. Once he gets his noodle cranked up, he can sustain enough high-level frenetic energy to rival Popeye himself. And although I think the Flesichers intended Grampy to be kind and lovable, which he is, there is a certain unmistakable lack of full control in his lunacy. His compulsive laughter reminds me more than a little of Greedy Humpty Dumpty, who became unhinged at the thought of riches in the cosmos that did not yet belong to him. Yes, I'm afraid Grampy is a nut.

But just look how inventive Grampy is with found materials: he epitomizes American Ingenuity at its best. And since there doesn't seem to be any food, or any adults, around the orphanage, the tots probably won't have to bother dismantling the toys made of china and flatware. They'll die happy, which I guess is the eternal human goal when you think about it.

Christmas Come But Once A Year, A Max Fleischer Color Classic (1936, Dave Fleischer, Director; Paramount), via YouTube, public domain.

Editor's note: now get to bed, goddammit, and I don't want to hear another peep outta ya!

It's Bedtime!

*

After you kids are done watching this, you need to pop right into bed, and I don't wanna hear another peep outta ya! Because I want to talk with the grown-ups.



"Greedy Humpty Dumpty" is a 1936 Fleischer Studios masterpiece that had a deep impact on my semisolid brain back in the mid and late 1950s. Flesicher cartoons were a major source of kids' fare in the early decades of television, readily available through syndication services to fill local programming holes on independent stations and network affiliates. Most of us who grew up with them assumed that all of them were black and white; even us shorties could recognize that these were "old-fashioned" cartoons as compared with things like Ruff 'n' Ready, Crusader Rabbit, or even Tom Terrific. (Little Me always preferred the old-school cartoons, and I had little use for the modern junk until Rocky and his Friends came along.)

Anyway, little did I know until the 1980s that this short was produced in color. Although color adds a lot to the presentation, the ghostly grayscale rendering on a 1950s 15-inch cathode ray tube produced its own unique impact, almost verging on horror (to my delicate sensibilities, at least). The fully expressed insanity of Humpty Dumpty inside his vault (with cash bags ominously resembling piled skulls), his stupidity, his greed and cruelty---so pointless since he was already The King Of Wealth---that laugh of his, and finally, the fury of the violated sun (echoing the vengeful Old Testament god of the Fleischers)---these images and sounds left a lasting dent in my 4-year-old psyche. Seeing GHD periodically, later while growing up, always gave me a bit of the willies as I experienced them at the time of my premier viewing.

As I say, this cartoon is a masterpiece of storytelling, even if it is based on one of the oldest archetypal tales known to human civilization (greed plus covetousness leading to insanity and ruin). With it's cute fairy-tale visual design and insipid toddler-oriented music bed, the story operates on multiple levels according to viewer maturity and perceptiveness. To semi-engaged parents who early learned the babysitting prowess of television, the cartoon was "kid stuff," with its treacly score piping into the kitchen or laundry room before Dad was home from work (or awake on the weekend). To the target audience, GHD was a story with a moral, sort of like the parables they presented to us in Sunday School, but much more entertaining and convincing thanks to the visuals and the absence of plump, warty matrons wasting our morning in a classroom environment.

Many YouTube commentators correctly draw parallels between this cartoon and our present financial sector disaster, and others have pointed out that a sentient 1936 adult may have interpreted this cartoon as social commentary related to the roots of the Great Depression. Myself, I think it also encapsulates much more profound esoteric knowledge---the type that mystery religions conceal behind an infrastructure of myth, legend, history, and pedagogy to occupy followers who are not ready to access deeper levels. I know this may sound pseudo-intellectual, but I feel that "Greedy Humpty Dumpty" rewards repeated viewings, disgorging new details of literary merit and even an allegory of how civilizations and immortal souls fail.

Greedy Humpty Dumpty, Dave Fleischer [Director]; David Tendlar and William Sturm [Animators] (1936, Fleischer Studios), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

The origin of Big Otis (28 August 1949)

*

See Part I here. Now, Part II (sez Wikipedia):

1511 --- the Portuguese conquer Malacca. That's right, you malaccas: Malacca!

1830 --- Tom Thumb, the prototype steam locomotive with the really cute name, is demonstrated to an investor group; it almost beat a horse-drawn railroad carriage in an impromptu race.

1990 --- Iraq annexes Kuwait... for a month or so.

I know, I know. Boring as hell, pretty much. But wait: I've discovered a new notable born on this very day in history. Year: 1917; world, say hello to The King --- Jack "King" Kirby, that is. Way to go --- much more impressive than Leo "Snooze" Tolstoy! (OMG --- JK!!!)

And at the very foundations of history, in 1949, a star is born:



Yogi: "Hey, Lady! Why the Beard?!?"

BO: "Ya dinna ken who I am?"

Yes, Big Hussein Otis, we do indeed ken who you am. Happy birthday, little fella.

Stan Freberg Modestly Presents

*

"Surly to bed and surly to rise."



Unfortunately the needle skips a few times near the beginning of the musical number for the Declaration of Independence. The voice characterizations are a thing of beauty that awed a coupla shorties who overheard their dad playing this album in the early 1960s. Rocky and Bullwinkle fans will recognize the voices of June Foray (the voice of Rocky) doing all the female parts here, and Stan Freberg, who did umpty-nine wiseguy voices pretty much everywhere in Jay Ward cartoons in the early and mid-'60s in addition to his own hugely fruitful and influential output. Paul "Boris Badenov" Frees, is hard to recognize as the narrator. Freberg and partners did very hip and smart parody, and other tracks from this LP, The United States of America, display some pretty biting satire about the white man's relations with Indians (as we used to call Native Americans). I hope to revisit Freberg sometime in the future because he was a giant in 1950s and '60s pop culture, catering both to hipper adults and legions of kids.

Declaration of Independence and Betsy Ross and the Flag, Stan Freberg (1961, from "The United States of America: The Early Years," Capitol W/SW-1573), via YouTube.

The Obama Age of Aquarius

*


Fair use claimed: reproduced for purposes of social commentary.

The King of the United States; or What We Can Learn About Current Events from The Little Theater Screen and William Shakespeare

When I was growing up in Chicago, the must-see after-school show for kids of a certain age range was Garfield Goose and Friends. See, Gar was the self-appointed King of the United States. His Prime Minister and "mouthpiece" was one Frazier Thomas (not pictured in the photo at the left, which, incidentally is being reproduced in compliance with the Fair Use Doctrine for purposes of education and social commentary). Nobody except Frazier could understand Gar's furious declamations, which consisted of the clattering together of a two-piece fiberglass bill, signifying nothing. Frazier also used his good offices as the official interpreter for all the other mute puppets on the show. By "interpreter" I mean that Frazier basically put words in their mouths because any sound that issued was incomprehensible to the viewer. Frazier Thomas served as the affable, long-suffering Enabler In Chief for a delusional Monarch.

Joe Lieberman, our current King of the United States, is similar to Garfield Goose in that he is operated by an unknown puppeteer with a hand way up his ass, and the sounds he makes are insanely grating on the ear. The corporate media, our current Royal Enablers, are similar to Frazier Thomas in that they presume to tell us exactly what Joe Lieberman's sociopathic performance art piece means by putting words in his mouth for us to hear. Unlike Joe Lieberman, Garfield Goose never did anyone harm when off camera. And unlike our corporate media, Frazier Thomas would often challenge The King's intelligence, motives, and ethics, and the substance of these challenges would be borne out in the end as Gar got his comeuppance about this thing or that. And he'd also show us Clutch Cargo cartoons on The Little Theater Screen.

I am utterly dumbfounded, even as I and so many others have fully expected it, that our constitutional democracy has come to this: the triumph of minority rule as ceded by the representatives of the true majority to the party of know-nothings, bigots, Wall Street, tea-baggers, and no doubt more than a handful of holocaust deniers.

It's pointless to blame Joe Lieberman, a known serpent who is behaving exactly like a serpent. I blame Barack "Othello" Obama and his lieutenant, Rahm "Iago" Emanuel. Evidently Iago's machinations have the Moor of Hawaii utterly unable to lead the nation or his own congressional majority, and so suspicious of his own Mandate For Change that he's getting ready to smother the life out of it like Desdemona in her chambers.

Afterword: This current disgusting healthcare reform episode, plus the concurrent military escalation in "The Stans," compels me to dust off the Petraeus-Lieberman Dream Ticket Theory for 2010. Not my dream, you understand; just my theory. Most Democrats deserve to have their asses handed to them for this travesty, but not mine and yours as well.

Special note to Anonymous

*
Thanks for commenting on my post of 14 May 2009 and providing the JR link. But I must question your grasp of either mathematics or physics. Or the quality of your stereo vision. Jane may have been one-dimensional (I don't know for sure) but she was also very much three-dimensional. By my Simple Country Editor (TM) ciphering method, that makes her fully four-dimensional, putting her in a class with such notables as Heinlein's Valentine Michael Smith and Eugene the Jeep, Popeye's "fourth-dimensional dorg."


Editor's note: fair use is claimed for the accompanying image of Popeye the Sailor and Eugene the Jeep for purposes of education and cultural commentary.

Big Rock Head was here

*

Big Rock Head was here

*
As reparations for making Big Rock Head frown at me, provoked (for once), I herewith reproduce a scan of one of his recent hilarious cartoons. This one was sketched on the top of a foam fast food doggy box.

Today's chuckle

This is a real quote from the Bullwinkle show, after the network dropped Moose and Squirrel's option. The situation: Rocky thinks he may have met Boris and Natasha before.

Rocket J. Squirrel: That voice. Where have I heard that voice?

Captain Peter Peachfuzz: Rocky, you hear more voices than Joan of Arc.