Uncle Fun and Sparky Land

Hey there, folks and folkesses:                    

Sorry we bin kinda off th’ grid this last li’l while. Uncle Fun lammed it outta Funsville in even more’n his usual hurry this year, ta avoid havin’ ta cast th’ decidin’ tie-breakin’ vote on th’ Fair Play an’ Sportsmanship Award at th’ annyuwall Shavian Archetypal Knucklepuppyball turnamint. (See this posting if ya fergot whut that wuz all about.) He sez he might be back soon, tho’, on ackount’a how th’ place he picked ta hide out at iz gettin’ kinda crowded.

He musta bin despert ta get away, I’ll tellya, cuz he left me an’ Moose (whose parents iz away on vacayshun themselfs an’ aint s’posed ta know any’a this) in th’ care’a Mister Kuzzents. Now, Kuzzents has gotta cat, which iz good, but b’tween you, me, an th’ A.S.P.C. of A., I think th’ cat knows more ‘bout lookin’ after childrun than he duz. So far, th’ closest thing ta adult guidance he’s given us is ta say “keep away from the brandy”. That’s fine by me, sints whut I heard frum Uncle Fun wuz that th’ brandy at Mister Kuzzents’s place is sumpin’ ta keep away frum at all costs. (Atchilly, Uncle Fun sez th’ problem iz that th’ brandy don’t igzacktly come at all costs, b’cause Kuzzents iz too cheap ta buy V.S.O.P. even…but ya dint hear that frum me.)

Now, don’t git me wrong --- th’ ackommadayshuns iz good, an’ Mister Kuzzents hazza lotta p’tenshully market-valyuwubble stuff he ain’t prolly never even thot’a pawning, but if he knew any less about how ta keep a kid’s attenshun, he could go inta bizness azza childrun’s entertainer. I askted Moose ta make up a inventory’a how he’s spent th’ time sints we bin here:

Telling us everything interesting that’s ever happened in his life (with repeats):

6 ½ minutes

“Demonstrating” household chores such as vacuuming, cleaning bathtubs, etc., in the hopes that we’ll think it’s so much fun that we join in, and eventually take over from him:

47 minutes, 11 seconds

Sorting through his collection of DVDs and VHS tapes, trying to find something that could be loosely construed as interesting or relevant to anyone born after the Spanish-American War:

39 hours, 16 minutes, and 43 seconds (cumulative)

Enumerating and expounding on key points of similarity and difference among Mitt Romney, Barry Goldwater, and Henry Cabot Lodge:

9 hours, 21 minutes (on the nose)

Explaining who Barry Goldwater and Henry Cabot Lodge were:

(not sure—fell asleep)

Showing us how hockey goalies used to play without masks:

19 hours, 3 minutes

(estimate—includes approximately 19 hours at the emergency ward)

Staying awake while recovering from a Grade 2 concussion, as per doctor’s orders, while rambling semi-coherently about how we’d all be speaking Swedish if Peter the Great hadn’t won the Battle of Poltava:

a hair under 23 hours

Glowering:

constantly

Goin’ back ta th’ third item on that list, our chief source of amusemint (not countin’ the “maskless goalie” bit, an’ its aftermath) haz bin obscure old cartoons whut Mister Kuzzents has misered away like Silas Marner, if that’s who I think I mean, an’ someone else if it isn’t. Th’ well began ta run dry late last week, tho’, which iz why ya haven’t heard frum us inna while.

Ya see, we wuz reduc’d ta watchin’ What’s New, Mr. Magoo? . An’, I’ll tellya straight out — it nearly robb’d us of th’ will ta live.

I had my hopes up based on when Mister Kuzzents show’d us th’ old Magoo cartoons frum back when they wuz made by Communists. Okay, th’ first one, mostly.

A near-sighted ol’ coot with a bad temper an’ a shotgun…how kin ya go wrong? Th’ rest kinda fell off after that, tho’, p’tickularly in th’ gunplay d’partmint, so I was really keyed up fer th’ “new” in What’s New, Mr. Magoo? bein’ a whole lotta new an’ improv’d violence.

It wuz made in th’ Seventies, after all. But, no such luck. It wuz made fer Saturday morning TV, so all that wuz new wuz that Mr. Magoo hadda talkin’ dog…which by then wuzzent so new, either.

This talkin’ dog’s name wuz McBarker, but one look at him, an’ wisht I wuz lookin’ at Bob Barker instead.

They kept yappin’ on about how th’ dog wuz th’ spittin’ image’a Magoo, but fer my money, he look’d more th’ Comishuner frum th’ Inspector cartoons.

I wonder whut Jim Backus, th’ actor who did Magoo’s voice (an’ supplemented th’ bad-eyesight shtick by sneakin’ an actuwal personality in b’tween the lines’a th’ script), felt about all this.

Ya gotta look at it as kinduva comedown frum playin’ th’ genie in this great ol’ Bugs Bunny cartoon. (Editor’s note: google the title “A-Lad-in-His Lamp”, to find the video evidence for this.) Dunno why Warner Bruthers dint use him more…mebbe his other bosses put a “Magoo only” rider on his contract.

I cooden stop sayin’ that once I heard it. You’d think that Mister Kuzzents wooda got tired’a hearin’ it, but after three whole days, th’ answer wuz apparently no.  Moose did get tired of it, however, an’ offer’d ta start me in onna new career path azza genie by crammin’ me backwards inta a teapot if I diddunt knock it off.

Really, tho’, it’s th’ childrun I feel sorry for (as Uncle Fun likes ta say whenever someone menshuns Mister Rogers). A lotta folks whut wound up bein’ parents now got raised on stuff like What’s New, Mr. Magoo?, and prolly ain’t never recover’d fully frum th’ expeeriyunts. Their will ta live likely ain’t return’d enuf so they kin keep up with th’ enurjettick yooth they brot inta th’ world. Mister Kuzzents roofully (if that’s th’ word) admitted that he still has relapses frum acksidentully watchin’ th' network premiere of The Great Grape Ape.

I’ll say this fer Mister Kuzzents, tho’: he ain’t no dummy (all th’ time, at least). Now he’s got us softened up and quietened down, th’ next thing he’s gonna toss our way is Hong Kong Phooey.

We otta be as docile as dodos on dubble dosages’a demerol by th’ time Uncle Fun comes back ta pick us up.

Sparky