overture! curtain! lights!

Remember that song? If you're around my age, you probably still know all the words. I know I do. When I heard those magical opening lines, I knew the Bugs Bunny show was starting. And, boy, did I love Bugs Bunny.

Yeah, you probably have heard me gush and profess my love and admiration for all things Disney. But, my infatuation with The Walt Disney Company and its all of its offshoots didn't come into being until I was nearly out of my teens. When I was a kid, I loved to watch Bugs Bunny and his animated pals. Even though the cartoons I was watching were from my parents' era, they were timeless... except, of course, when they made topical references to World War II. But, Bugs Bunny was clever and sassy. He was a schemer and a loveable jerk. He was sort-of the "anti-Mickey Mouse"... and that aspect of his rascally (or "wascally" as Elmer Fudd would put it) personality was purposely exploited in his cameo appearance alongside Mickey Mouse in 1988's Who Framed Roger Rabbit? 

The Bugs Bunny Show (with its catchy theme song) premiered in primetime in October 1960. The show served as an anthology of theatrical Looney Tunes shorts, originally produced in the 1940s. Under the supervision of veteran animators Chuck Jones and Friz Freleng, the cartoons were trimmed for time and fitted with new title cards better suited for television. A brand-new introduction was created featuring Bugs Bunny and his long-time adversary Daffy Duck along with that memorable theme composed by the prolific team of Mack David and Jerry Livingston. (Gosh! Even Jerry Seinfeld knows it!) The Bugs Bunny Show ran on Tuesday evenings for three years until it was moved to its familiar spot on Saturday mornings where it stayed (in one form or another on one network or another) for four decades. 

It was in the middle 1960s that I became an avid viewer. Plopped in front of the Pincus family black & white TV set, with a big bowl of sugar frosted somethings on my pajama-clad lap, I was hypnotized by the animated antics of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Yosemite Sam, Porky Pig, Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester & Tweety, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote and even the one-joke premise of Pepe LePew. And when the opening fanfare of that infectious theme song started and Bugs and Daffy (in their vaudeville finest) took the stage, I was right there... singing along.

.... but, about that opening sequence.

If you recall, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck kicked off each episode in yellow jackets, red bow ties, straw hats and canes (curiously, no pants). After the first verse of the song, a parade of familiar and beloved Warner Brothers characters would enter silently from the wings and march across the stage. 

There was Tweety and Speedy Gonzales and... wait..... just wait a second.... who the fuck is that kangaroo?

Yes, even as a child, this didn't sit right with me. There was Yosemite Sam and Sylvester the Cat and Elmer Fudd — all getting the ass-end of this buttinsky marsupial. How on earth did this Outback refugee get third placement? He even has the nerve to take the stage before Wile E. Coyote and Foghorn Leghorn make it into the shot! (Foghorn Leghorn, is last... I say, I say last!!) This was an outrage! Where was Porky Pig or the Tasmanian Devil or Road Runner or even Granny? What was this nondescript kangaroo doing rubbing elbows with these...these... stars! I never saw this kangaroo in any cartoon. I had no idea who he is or what he does. And I was especially irked that he was being treated like cartoon royalty among this actual cartoon royalty.

This has bugged the shit out of me for fifty years. Half a fucking century!

Retro TV network Me-TV has started showing cartoons on weekday mornings and I watch a good portion of the program before I leave for work. Bookended with corny schtick by the host and a puppet, an assortment of Warner Brothers cartoons are presented along with a smattering of background trivia. I don't pay very close attention to the show, as I have seen these cartoons countless times in my life. However, every so often, they slip one curiosity in that makes me take notice. Once they showed Horton Hatches the Egg, a 1942 cartoon that was the very first animated adaptation of a Dr. Seuss book. Around Christmastime, they showed a particularly gruesome take on The Little Match Girl from Columbia Studios in 1937. But, just recently, I saw a cartoon entitled Hop, Look and Listen from 1948. It was a vehicle for Sylvester the cat and featured one Hippety Hopper, a kangaroo that escaped from the zoo. My kangaroo. I sat up and paid close attention. It was the usual fare of "mistaken identity." Sylvester thinks the kangaroo is an overgrown mouse and attempts to catch and eventually eat it. Of course, if cartoons have taught us anything, we understand that all kangaroos are expert boxers and poor Sylvester has the shit kicked out of him several times over the course of seven minutes. But now, I had a starting point — a name.

A quick "google" search resulted in enough information to satisfy me. Hippety Hopper appeared in 14 Warner Brothers shorts between his debut in 1948 until 1964, when Warner Brothers gave up trying to endear him to its audience. Also, as fate would have it, Warner Brothers pulled the plug on its animation studio in 1964 with the decline in demand for theatrical cartoons. The plot of Hippety Hopper cartoons did not vary from the "escaped from a zoo/circus/pet shop and is mistaken for a giant mouse" premise. I guess Pepe LePew pulled the "one trick pony" act off better.

Still, I cannot understand how this minor, almost forgotten character from the annals of Warner Brothers' storied history, pushed himself between the "Fastest Mouse in all of Mexico" and the "Rootin'est Tootin'est Orneriest Cowpoke this side of the Pecos" on a show that ran for four decades and no one seemed to notice or care.

Just me.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

looking here and there, looking everywhere

Every year, for the past thirty-three, my wife and I have hosted a dessert party the evening before Thanksgiving. The gathering is warm and friendly and the guest list has evolved considerably over those three-plus decades. The only people who have been in attendance at every one are Mrs. Pincus and yours truly. 

In preparation for the annual event, Mrs. Pincus bakes everything that is served to our guests. Everything. By herself. Occasionally, I have been asked to retrieve a canister of flour from a high cabinet or to run down to the basement freezer for another bag of chocolate chips. Otherwise, I am a spectator in the kitchen. Mrs. Pincus is like a fine artist and a warm oven, a Kitchen-Aid mixer and a counter full of ingredients make up her palette. She spends an entire day (and sometimes a few hours the morning of the party) whipping up a vast array of the most tempting baked goods this side of Sara Lee.

Among the pies and tarts and brownies (two kinds), Mrs. Pincus will include her old stand-by and perennial favorite – gingerbread men. Except Mrs. P makes 'em in the shape of bears instead of humans. However, she doesn't use a cookie cutter. She uses a cardboard template that actually predates our holiday parties by a few years. Mrs. P rolls out the homemade dough, lays the thin cardboard bear on top and, with the point of a sharp paring knife, follows the perimeter of the guide until she meets the point at which she started. She removes the stencil and places the bear-shaped dough on a cookie sheet alongside his previously-cut dough pals. (This year, I got to decorate the pre-baked treats with chocolate chip eyes, noses and buttons.) Then, they get popped into the oven for a secret amount of time and come out as deliciously-whimsical tawny cookies.

In the down time, while several pies are in the oven, Mrs. Pincus and I adorn our house in a overlay of Thanksgiving embellishment. We have a big plastic bin filled with earth-toned table runners and mantle scarves and little themed knick-knacks depicting pilgrims and Native Americans. There are twinkly light sets and rustic plaques and every year we place them in the same spots around the first floor of our home. At the risk of tooting my own horn (of plenty), our house looks very attractive and inviting in late autumn, especially when enhanced by our collection of holiday tsochkies. A house full of people have let us know how much they enjoy this yearly soiree – at least that's what we think they have told us. It's hard to understand some folk when their mouths are stuffed with two kinds of homemade pumpkin pie.

After the last guest has left, we begin the tedious task of cleaning up. We have thankfully received help from some friends who hang around later, but the wrapping of breakables and gathering of the tiny novelties is reserved for Thanksgiving morning, when Mrs. Pincus and I have the house to ourselves. This year, I picked each and every little figurine from the fireplace mantle, along with fistfuls of felt oak leaves and stashed them in the dedicated bin with the coiled light sets and die-cut place mats. At the end of my collecting, I had a wad of tissue and an empty box lacking one Hallmark Donald Duck dressed in a black frock and a silver-buckled Puritan hat. I looked every where... and I mean everywhere.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Mrs. Pincus was rifling through her recipe box for her trusty bear template. And it was nowhere to be found. She scoured the shelf in our kitchen coat closet where the recipe box resides when its not being employed to dispense the secrets of pecan pie or Bubbie Elka's pinwheel cookies. Mrs. P frowned – not unlike the missing bear's expression – and said, with a great deal of disappointment "Someone stole my bear!"

"Oh, come on," I reassured, "who would want to take that?"

Realizing that she was accusing one of her guests of the theft of something they probably didn't know existed, Mrs. Pincus continued her futile search. After too long, we abandoned the hunt. In the days and weeks following Thanksgiving, however, my wife still casually opened drawers and looked behind things that she had looked behind a million times. Nothing. No bear.

November turned into December and the weather has become increasingly colder. This morning, I decided to finally forsake my denim jacket-and-hoodie ensemble in favor of my heavy pea coat and knit gloves. I opened the coat closet in the kitchen and began scanning the various specimens of outerwear stored within. I passed a few coats I still wonder why I am hanging on to until I came across the navy blue woolen ulster that I hadn't seen in nearly a year. I put the coat on and closed the closet door.

It wouldn't close snugly.

I opened the door again and assessed how I had disrupted the arrangement of hangers. I adjusted  and readjusted them and tried the door again. It still wouldn't close correctly. A little more rearranging was necessary and maybe I had to kick my winter boots to the rear of the closet floor. I looked down at the errant boots. Suddenly, against the side wall of the closet interior, I spotted the AWOL bear, its forlorn face staring at me in silent relief. I crouched down and picked the bear off the closet wall. I placed it on the kitchen counter where Mrs. Pincus would surely see it later when she came downstairs.

Now that one mystery in the Pincus house is solved, I will move on to the next one.

If you were at my house the night before Thanksgiving this year... and you took my Donald Duck, please bring it with you next year. No questions asked. There may even be some pie in it for you.

Or a gingerbread bear.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

My annual Christmas music compilation is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD at ge.tt for a limited time. 

 This year, it’s a whopping 82 minutes of pure Christmas wonderment that'll have you wondering why you downloaded it in the first place. But, as long as you did, why not share it with your family and friends. It's guaranteed to make sure they don't overstay their welcome. 

 You get twenty-eight eclectic Christmas selections featuring a mix of obscure artists giving up on their dreams of stardom and popular artists committing career suicide. These holiday tunes run the gamut from weird to really weird plus a custom full-color cover with track listings – all for you and all for FREE!
(That’s right! FREE!)