Daffy Duck: The Everyman?

I miss Looney Tunes.

Those hand drawn cartoons from the 1940s-1960s had a special something: It's not often you find that level of comedy and dialogue in today's "cookie cutter" cartoons (See Nickelodeon). Should we blame the internet and the proliferation of every joke in existence, mass commercialization, or the failure of this and younger generations to mature past Spongebob.

I liked Spongebob; he was peculiar, perky, imaginative, and colourful. I suppose as the money poured in, there was no need to expand on the Spongebob brand, so his character did not develop, episodes became carbon copies of past ones, and the commercial appeal of Spongebob became more important than the cartoon. Here is a little perspective for you: Spongebob began on May 1st, 1999. I was picking my nose and playing Nintendo 64 as a high schooler in 1999 o_O

Classic Daffy Duck pose

If Daffy Duck emerged in today's cartoon television landscape in the twenty-first century, where would we place him: Saturday morning kids specials, after school theater, or in the mature audiences bracket? As a youngster, I thought Bugs Bunny was my favourite cartoon character, but as I grew up I grew to like Daffy: He was arrogant, jealous, inconsistent, and yet a master of comedic timing, in particular when the artists directed the jokes at the lovable duck. I had the misfortune of watching the cartoon B-movie Space Jam, which starred Michael Jordan, and I felt so bad for Daffy because he received none of the plaudits. He wanted to be a team player on Jordan's team, but the movie geared towards making Daffy Duck the character NO ONE should like from the start, and I think that's unfair.

Bugs usually got his way with everything, and that eventually wore thin with me and many of my friends. I liked knowing characters like Daffy Duck or Wily E. Coyote never won, because in life no one ever "wins": You have a lousy job, your car doesn't start, there is gum on your shoe, the downstairs faucet is leaking, or your hair is a mess. We almost never catch the road runner, or win that "Million Box", yet we press on in pursuit of our satisfaction and ultimate happiness. Sadly, when we don't find it, so become surly, closed-minded, arrogant, and vain creatures. At least, I hope not...

After all, Daffy Duck is just a cartoon character. For us human beings, there is more to life than vain pursuits and fleeting passions. As much as the old Daffy would deny to believe, no one is an island or a vacuum, and life is built on relationships, doing what is right, and asking for help (the last one was for me o_O). As humans, I hope we can move on from talking in high-pitched voices, chasing jellyfish, and watching the same episodes of every other Nick cartoon over and over and over. Anyway, what was your favourite cartoon character growing up, and why?

Think about it: It's the same thing, even the artistry is the same!

Oh yeah, all artwork and cartoons are property of Warner Bros. All rights reserved. Legal mumbo jumbo o_O

Dear Future Wife...

There are some things you should know about me...

1. There is only one LT; no, not the running back.
2. I never liked Winnie The Pooh. I will never like Winnie The Pooh.
3. Steamboy > Spirited Away
4. I never won a game of SORRY! I play to win, but I don't want to win; it's too much fun.
5. If you ask why I name the first of each of my electronic devices "Vanessa", I will respond with the words "I don't want to talk about it!", cry hysterically, run to my room, slam the door behind me, and sulk for two hours.
6. I cry for Otoko-tachi No Yamato, any NFL Films documentary involving Dick Vermeil, and The Ninth Doctor's (Chris Eccleston) regeneration scene from Doctor Who.
7. I laugh at Angry Birds.
8. What is my kryptonite? Kittens, white chocolate, Ric Flair turnbuckle flips, Mahjong, Major League Baseball Authentic On-Field caps (size 7 3/4), and Nike N98 track jackets with matching polo shirts.
9. I will know when I had enough steak (dog house).
10. It is never too late to cruise around South America.
11. You will find I am very good at altering my voice.
12. On Saturdays, you may hear someone yelling at random intervals. That's just me watching soccer.
13. There is no number 13.
14. Why do I need so many Foxtrot anthologies? = Why do humans need oxygen to live?
15. Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
16. I must watch CTFxC. Every day.
17. I think we could have a great time shopping at IKEA.
18. Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Woundwort. You know what I'm talking about ;)
19. The dot in my pinky finger will never go away.
20. My dream car is the Wiesmann MF3.

Jumbo

It killed him.

He told me how he took my advice, and told her how he felt. He told me how they met at their usual spot every Wednesday for lunch, and how she sat in complete silence as he told her. He told me how she said nothing when he finished. He told me how he asked her what she was thinking. He told me how everything he said made her cry.

Her tears hit him like a left hook. It carommed off his cheek, reverborated to his molars, split his jaw, shot up his skull, shook his brain, buckled his knees, and crumpled his lifeless body to the floor. I knew that feeling, but he said he could take it: He made adjustments to the pattern, and thus became adjusted to the pain. He could take the punishment, the repeated shots, and the constant punches. He wasn't in love, he was punch drunk.

It killed me to watch him get up from his stool with his eyes swollen shut, his nose bloody and broken, and his jaw enflamed with two teeth missing. Between pitiful gasps for any kind of air, he would say "Sheesh da one, Filff. I can doo ith! Sheesh da one! I nooo ith!" He wanted the same thing I did, so I let him go, "Fine, finish the job." I said. Before leaving the corner, he turned to me to wink as best he could with the one good eye he had. "Noo plaablem!"

Now, here we were. I found him still sitting in the chair later that night. His parents called me asking where he was, and I told them I had an idea, nevertheless I would call them once I found him, and drive him home. There was so many wrappers on the tray in front of him; if I didn't come earlier, the manager said, he would eat the entire menu in another hour. Without saying a word, I slinked into the booth and sat there across from him. Mixed with saturated fats and absolute sorrow, his tears flowed from his face and onto the paltry board the fast food joint called a table. I watched him cry for a couple of minutes, before a pair of eavesdropping teenagers in the lineup began whispering about us. "With the way he's going, I wonder if there is anything left." One of them said, which got both of them chuckling. I knew we had to leave, and sadly so did he. As I put my hands on the table to rise from the booth, he stop sulking and asked, "Why duss no one luv me?" I knew there was an answer for him somewhere. Such a question followed other men right into the grave, but other men were not like him. He would die that night if he didn't know.

"I love you, Phil." I said. "We all love you, man."

His sulking quieted down, but he kept crying. Reluctantly, after I rose from the booth, he followed me out of the restaurant leaving a ton of crumpled wrappers, a bewildered manager, and a pair of laughing teenagers behind.

As I opened the trunk to get a pair of water bottles, he sank into the passenger side of my car. When I closed the hatch, I received a text message. It was her: She "heard from friends I was back in town, and since she wasn't doing anything maybe we could..."

I got in the car, gave him a bottle, and put mine in the cup holder.

"Was dat her?" He asked.
"Yes, it's her." I replied. We stared out the car as it started to rain.
"She alweez lucked at yuu." He added.

"Wha dit yuu say?"