Y’know, I can still remember the day when my brother got up and changed the channel from the public broadcasting pre school block to a UHF channel showing classic theatrical cartoons from the golden age of animation. Obviously, once that creaky door into adulthood was opened there was no going back. Sesame Street now felt, well, tame next to the anarchic glee of the Warner Bros and MGM cartoons. Even a six year old can see the quality difference between animated toy commercials masquerading as entertainment compared to the loving craftsmanship shown in Disney features. Mr.Rogers seemed milquetoast compared to, well, pretty much anything, but there was no going back for me.
It saddens me to no end that children of today, as if they had hope before, can’t turn on the ol’ boob tube and see Popeye n’ friends. It makes me reel in horror that children don’t have foghorn leghorn shorts as a parable that yes, it’s a dog eat dog world out there, and the most clever one that survives. It’s sad that we can’t project our own suburban anxieties on Donald Duck as he puffs his pipe and reads the paper, only to be disturbed by an external foe when all he really wants, is to enjoy his post war comforts in peace. He was a WW II vet, for Christ sake, doesn’t he deserve it?
Adulthood seemed more tangible, but cartoons themselves with a mystery wrapped in a puzzle. How DID they make these things? They are drawings, but how did they move? How’d they talk? How come they are so funny?
I asked my Mom these questions for which she answered” I dunno.”
Eh, at least the kids today have internet.
