"I Think, Therefore I Ant."
February 16
The Secret Journals of Leon Schlesinger
The Secret Journals of Leon Schlesinger
Leon
Schlessinger was studio head and president of Warner Brother’s animation
division from 1937- 1946. A notorious gambler and drinker, Mr. Schlesinger is
reputed to have called the cartoons that he produced “trash” and generally took
a singular uninterest in the work created by his studios.
His
journals, long thought destroyed in the Acme Factory fire of 1949, were just
recently uncovered. The following are few of the more lascivious excerpts...
PORKY’S CONTRACT CAPERS
Began
contract renewal talks with Porky. Talk about your shit ways to start a day!
The pig’s still angry at me for giving Petunia the axe. But business is business
and that little piglet couldn’t act to save her greasy butterball ass. I don’t
know why the little oinker’s so upset. I mean it’s not like he was bonking her
or anything--Porky’s little secret might fool the rest of America, but we know
which way the wind (that is to say, Porky), blows around here.
Of course
he’s also still pissed about the diet we put him on…. But, Jesus Christ,
something had to be done. The little fucker had gotten way too fat: Now don’t
get me wrong, I know fat is funny, but it can also be disgusting. And the pig
has really let himself go. It’s disgusting. You can see the lard sweating off
the pig in every one of his pictures.
Porky's 1st Toon "I Haven't Got A Hat"
So blubber
boy comes into my office and shoots a nasty scowl at a picture of me and Daffy
at The Brown Derby that I have on my desk. Then he waddles over to the chair
that faces my desk and plunks his big bacon ass into it… I make a mental note to
call the cleaner’s the moment that fat boy leaves.
We stare at
each other in silence for a minute or so. I’m gazing into his snout and wishing
that he wore trousers, and he’s sort of twitching. I give him a look that says,
‘what’s on your mind?’
He’s just
getting ready to speak when I beat him to the punch. “Porky, baby, you look
great, piggy!”
I tell him
the diet’s doing wonders for him and then inform him I only have a few minutes.
“Well,
L-l-l-l-l-Leon,” he finally manages to sputter out… Now I know this cracks up
all of America, but personally, it drives me insane. Truth be told, if that
porcine puke wasn’t so popular, I’d have dumped him ages ago. No shit, there’s
something about that stutter that just gets under my skin.
“I’ve, l-l-l-looked over the co-co-con-con-paper work,” he tells me, “and I have
to admit I’m more than a little pe-pe-pe-perturbed.”
I look him
over with total disgust. I make sure he understands my look, plain and
simple. This little piggy would still be Leonard Cummings, and working at a
market in Iowa if it wasn’t for me. And although this son of a swine has the
nerve to talk money with me, to bitch about what I’m paying him, I’m not
worried.
Sure, I know
the people at Disney don’t have a lead pig and rumour is Porky’s being having
lunches with the beloved, drunken, fascist, Uncle Walt. But I know the Porkster,
better than anyone else. “Look Porky,” I grab a bottle and offer him a drink
that I know he’ll refuse, “if it were up to me, that number would be a lot
higher, hey you know I love you, chunky, but the fact is, well, you’re not our
number one star anymore.”
Of course
he’s offended by the truth; as a rule most pig actors are. He starts ranting
about Warner Brother’s being in the dumpster until he came along and how if it
wasn’t for him, yada yada yada... I admit he’s right about this and thank him
profusely for all he’s done for the studio. But I’m quick to remind him that
right now he’s our number three star.
Then I
casually mention a smelly skunk with all kinds of screen potential that our
talent scouts have been checking out – just to make him a little nervous. He
doesn’t flinch, I offer up a primo parking spot, all the slop he desires and
dinner with Lana Turner.
His sardonic
laughter sends shudders down my spine, so I decide to play my ace in the hole.
“Look, Pork, that’s the best I can do, if you don’t like it maybe you should go
somewhere else.”
I can see
his little pink pig eyes light up. Obviously
Walt’s offered up a sweet pot, but by my next sentence whatever hope he had is
all but a memory.
“I mean,” I
continue (it’s an idle threat but I know I’ve got him), “I’m sure there are
lots of studios interested in you. I can only hope that they’re as successful
as we have been at keeping your little, oh let’s call them, fruity extra
curricular activities, out of the press.”
The pig
suddenly gets agitated; he now accepts my offer of a drink. “You wouldn’t
d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dare!” he squeals.
I light up a
cigarette and smile.
“Not
intentionally,” I tell him, “but you know how it is. Stories get told; somehow
the press gets wind of it. And I don’t think Uncle Walt would take too kindly
knowing his new pig was a... set designer. In fact, I’m pretty sure he
disapproves of, or some might even say, positively detests, that kind of
behaviour.”
For a second
or two I think he’s gonna start crying, I really hope not because I’m not in the
mood for a laugh. But he doesn’t… Instead, he looks at the contract and asks me
if that’s all I can offer.
“Th-th-th-
that’s all Porky!” I tell him.
“Leon,” he
says, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-prick!”
I tell him
yes. He signs the contract and storms out. I have a quick drink, call the
cleaners, joke to myself about just taking Porky to them, and then go out for a
ham sandwich.
Tomorrow
– Daffy Duck in “The Qwack Fiend!”
February 15
Imaginary
Girlfriend
Like every
other teenage boy, I had an imaginary girlfriend. And I have to say that she
was a real beauty! Yeah it was embarrassing when I’d accidentally sit on her but
she was cool with it. Her favorite movie was Harvey. I plastered her picture all
over my walls. Then I got her pregnant. I couldn’t figure it out. I mean I used
an imaginary condom. My parents set up an intervention and told me she didn’t
exist. I told them we all have our faults and called them racists. But it didn’t
work out. She was imaginary and I’m a pismire. I still can’t believe I’ll never
see her again.
February 14
My Bloody Valentine
Ah, February 14th and everyone who’s single is the biggest sad sack
in the world. For that one day! Come February 15th the bond of love
is just some wilting day-old flowers and a life partner whose farts still stink.
I guess that’s what you get from a day named after a Roman who was beaten with
clubs and decapitated for not giving up his Christianity. Maybe that’s why you
folks have found a more palpable figurehead in a fat naked baby with a crossbow.
Love and sacrifice are one and the same in that they’re both dangerous. If love
doesn’t shoot you through the heart it might take out your head. And trust me,
that’s one messy pool of hemoglobin and skull fragments. Which begs the
question: Will you be my bloody valentine? But let’s not forget the chocolates!
That’s the best part isn’t it? If you were to ask me, I’d guess that most people
don’t have great sex on Valentine’s Day but they do have super bonbons.
Now there’s a pithy slogan you won’t see on a Hallmark card.
February 13
Dead Eye Dick Cheney Shoots A Man!
Vice
President Dick Cheney shot and injured a man during a weekend quail hunting trip
in Texas, his spokeswoman said Sunday.
Harry Whittington, 78, who admitted that he “always figured I’d get shot by the
vice president” was listed as “alert and ready to sue” after Cheney sprayed him
with shotgun pellets on Saturday.
The vice
president is unrepentant, “It was in my best interest to
shoot him. Our country is once again safe and secure – and all thanks to
me,” Mr. Cheney stated.
Fortunately for Whittington, while the vice president may not be the most
accurate shot, he is also a very sick man who is not long for this earth and so
he has a lot of medical people around him who were quick to attend to the
wounded hunter.
This event confirms what we all know
– guns don't hurt people, idiotic vice
president's using them do.
February 12
Curious
George – The Movie
Turns
out Curious George wasn't kidnapped. Heck no, that crazy little monkey is a stowaway!
And like all Hollywood films, it completely sugar coats the true facts about the
monkey and the Man in the Yellow Hat.
Here's the REAL ending...
The Uncensored Curious George Epilogue
Also: Just for fun,
an ant rant… Curious
George
February 11
Cartoon Without Caption Offends Everyone
Even the Godless are pissed off!
February 10
Shocking
Revelation – Freud’s Evil Twin Brother
Freud Fraud
The Vienna Crier
has printed excerpts from a long lost journal categorically proving
famous psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud had an evil twin brother who was the real
mastermind behind all of today’s pernicious Freudian Psychology and its
resulting psychobabble.
Evil
twin brother, Felix Freud is now being named as the fiend and the
“brains” behind the castration complex, penis envy, the theory of the
unconscious, infantile sexuality, and the “Big 3.” The Id, Ego, and Super Ego
(his brother, Sigmund, wanted to call them Huey, Dewey and Louie).
According to Sigmund, evil twin Felix was known for his wicked sense of humour and once
suggested to naive twin brother Ziggy, “Go show mother your Bavarian sausage and tell
her that you know for a fact she wishes she had one. Oh, and then read Oedipus.”
This Week's 10 Fun Search Terms for
Avery Ant
The following are this week’s favorite 10 search queries
people used to get to www.averyant.com
(really!)
a pimple on a
donkey's butt
tickle fight
gonzo rants
why man's nipple sticks inward
image of satan
man in yellow hat with gun
george bush armpit fart campaign
pope's job
janet gretzky hit by puck
putting the blocks to
Last Christmas is so 2005...
Only 313
Shopping Days Left Until Xmas!
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