Hey—guess what? It’s The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan.

 

 

You were expecting maybe something deep?

 

The Battle of the Boing, Part 3

     As you may (or more likely, may not) recall, I’ve been recounting the story of the bad blood that developed between Sparky and one of cartoondom’s most beloved youngsters.

 

     You’ll notice that I couldn’t bring myself to hang the tag “beloved” on Sparky. What can I say? I call ‘em—or in this case, don’t call ‘em—like I see ‘em. Anyway, despite what I’ve already told you in Chapters One and Two of this tale, things had begun on a sunny note for the two pen-and-ink urchins. Put together as prospective co-stars of a Saturday morning kids’ show, Sparky and Gerald initially hit it off…even so, there were hints from the very start that the pairing was not made to last.

 

     Before long, Sparky had quit the series, leaving Gerald to his own devices.

 

     As their enmity festered, Sparky continued to get work on television, pulling down recurring guest roles and one-shot appearances. A successful stint as a fill-in for Clutch Cargo’s annoyingly twerpy sidekick Spinner led to him being touted as a badly-needed permanent replacement. Sadly, this was not to be.

 

 

     He also stood in for an ailing Crusader Rabbit (who had been misdiagnosed with myxomatosis and put in quarantine), but this moment in the limelight was likewise short-lived.

 

 

     Meanwhile, The Gerald McBoing Boing Show was abruptly and unceremoniously cancelled after a short and poorly-received run. The grudge which Gerald bore towards Sparky for his part in the failure of the project lasted a whole lot longer, though. Sparky’s was at the top of a long list of names Gerald later “volunteered” to the House Un-American Activities Committee.

 

 

     Citizen McBoing Boing’s act of perfidy triggered a maelstrom of hysteria, the effects of which I’ll begin to catalogue in our next instalment. Right now, I’m late for the Funsville Psychoanalysis Appreciation Society’s annual celebration of Carl Jung’s birthday. Our plan, as always, is to get collectively unconscious.

Uncle Fun

 

Today, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan pays tribute to the birthday of one of the most influential thinkers of the Twentieth Century:

 

Of course, one of the things the Twenty-first Century has been proving is that you can’t think of everything.

 

 

The Battle of the Boing, Part 2

     Those of you who follow this blog regularly will see from the title that this is the second chapter in a continuing story. For you newcomers who don’t want to follow this link to Chapter One, here’s a little space-filling exposition.

     In a time remembered as a simpler time, mostly because many of the things that made it complicated have been replaced by other complications, Sparky looked to be well on his way to TV cartoon stardom. He’d just signed on as a sidekick to Gerald McBoing Boing, the boy who speaks in sound effects instead of words. The great hopes which network executives had pinned on this pairing were almost immediately dashed by a colossal clash of styles—and egos—which drove Sparky off the project, and into temporary unemployment.

 

     The newly-consummated hatred between the two took a while to simmer before coming to a boil. As you’d expect, Sparky and Gerald muttered a few choice words (and sounds) to their respective friends, but nothing of consequence happened until they were forced to share the dais at a Friars Club roast for Clyde Crashcup from the original Alvin and the Chipmunks show.

 

     The melee that ensued got Sparky and Gerald banned from the club for life. Gerald also had his golfing privileges revoked at Hillcrest, which he claimed was due to a malicious rumour that some of the noises he made were distinctly anti-Semitic.

 

 

     There’s no proof, of course, that Sparky was behind this—but then again, there’s no proof that he wasn’t, either. After that, things took on a tone that can only be described as vicious…but more on that next time. Right now, I’m overdue to throw out the first ball at Funway Park to help the Funsville Fun Sox celebrate the anniversary of the first unassisted triple play in major league history…throw it out, catch it, and throw it back to myself again, that is.

Uncle Fun

 

 

Greetin’s, Canadian peoples, an’ all us other enemies’a Canada,

If you’re readin’ this, yer prolly still one’a th’ lucky Canucks who hazzunt yet bin tabbed azza subversive. Then agin, mebbe ya have, an’ it’s just that no-one kin keep up wit’ all th’ names that keeps gettin’ added ta th’ list. I know, whut with one thing an’ another goin’ on, that this ain’t bin th’ greatest time ever in th’ hist’ry of ever ta be Canadian. So, I thot I’d pass along my symputhees an’ condoluntses. (Uncle Fun sez that a word’a symputhee frum me wood be enuf ta turn Mother Teresa inta a foam-mouth’d axe murderer, but who ask’d him, anyhow?)

So on wit’ th’ pity party, fellow enemies. Fer starters, if only ta add insult ta injury (er whatever it adds ta whatever else it adds ta), you folks in Canada have done did gone an’ lost one’a yer few r’mainin’ real-live artists wit’ th’ death’a th’ last’a th’ red-hot hyper-realists, Alex Colville.

 

 

This is one funeral I gotta crash…jus’ ta see if anybuddy’s got th’ sense’a gallows humour — an’ th’ guts — ta take a peek inta th’ casket an’ say, “he looks so lifelike”.

Speakin’a things that looks amazingly like other things, but ain’t fer real, well, there’s Stephen Harper. Ain’t nobody ever gonna accuse him’a bein’ lifelike er nuthin’, but more an’ more he’s got people thinkin’ he’s like what Alex Colville wooda come up with if he’d’a bin asked ta paint a portrait’a Ol’ Tricky Dick Nixon.

Enemies lists an’ overall paranoid schizofreeniya aside, Harper only resembulls Nixon as much as he resembulls any other flesh-an'-blood human bein’, which is ta say not much, an’ only in a “who let th’ drunk guy work at Madame Tussaud’s?” kinda way. If Harper did go ta school on Nixon, he musta miss’d th’ parts’a th’ course ‘bout brokerin’ a lastin’ nuckleeur peace b’tween superpowers an’ establishin’ a friendly but non suck-uppy r’lashunship wit’ China. Guess he only show’d up fer th’ leckchoors on Checkers an’ Th’ Night’a th’ Long Knives.

Fer a guy who likes ta do impreshuns’a other leaders, Harper just ain’t up ta th’ job when it comes ta doin’ Signin’–SALT-wit’-Brezhnev Nixon er Meetin-Chairman-Mao Nixon. Havin’-Three-Diffrunt-Attorney-Genrulls-in-a-Single-Day-B’fore-Findin’-One-Willin’-ta-Lie-fer-Him Nixon er Getting-Goons-ta-Break-inta-th’-Office-of-a-Opponent-Who’d-Already-All-But-Lost-th’-Eleckshun Nixon seem ta be more his speed. Still, that’s his style, an’ he’s entitled to it, I guess, no matter how creepily feckless an’ destrucktive it is. Style er no style, tho’, I can’t help thinkin’ it ain’t so close ta Nixon as it is ta Cap’n Queeg.

 

Er mebbe it’s even closer ta another fickshunall military man…Colonel Flagg frum M*A*S*H. Google th’ name — watch ol’ episodes on DVD er YouTube — as Uncle Fun might say, I think you’ll agree with me that herein lies a kindred spirit.

 

 

Any way ya look at it, all’s I know is this: there’s only twenny-four hours inna day, an’ ya kin either spend ‘em havin’ yer flunkies make a list’a enemies fer yer new cab’net ministers er havin’ ‘em look at th’ list’a th’ friends yer new cab’net ministers has already got…if only ta see how many of ‘em might have a new reason fer handin’ out and/or ackceptin’ bribes. An’ if that crack lands me on th’ Harper Enemies List — well, tell me sumpin’ I ain’t figured has happened long ago.

That’s my two cents worth, Fellow Enemies (er mebbe it’s a full nickel’s worth, since Harper’s fingered th’ penny as a threat ta nashnul seckurity, an’ eliminated it). See ya all at th’ mass show trial…or th’ mutiny, whichever comes first.

Sparky

 

In honour of Bastille Day, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan salutes the ceaseless pursuit of truth that leads to liberty, equality, and fraternity:

 

Plus ça change…and however the heck the rest of that saying goes.

 

 

 

     By the way, I have it on good authority from M’Dear that yoga pants are far and away the best garment for this kind of work. Despite appearances to the contrary, Sparky wasn’t always this keen on sound effects. You might not believe it, but at one time, he numbered himself among the very small number of sworn, deadly and mortal enemies of those who practise what is sometimes known in the business as The Joy of SFX. By that, I mean not so much all of them as one of them in particular.

     The whole regrettable affair began one July not unlike this July, except that it was the July of a year that happened many, many years ago. At the time, Sparky was, surprisingly, looking for work—not exactly the simplest of tasks, since his only marketable job skill is the ability to be a cartoon character. As luck would have it, a television network which shall remain nameless (mostly because I can’t remember which one it was) had taken up an option to build a series around Gerald McBoing Boing, the cartoon boy whose speech consists entirely of sound effects. Concerned that something so high concept might lack the common touch, the network auditioned co-stars to carry the dialogue and generally gag things up a bit. Sparky came out at the top of the short list, and The Gerald McBoing Boing and Sparky Show might still be on the air today, if not for artistic differences between the two principals which erupted on the first day of rehearsals.

     Showing a rare loss of sang-froid where easy money is involved, Sparky stormed out, tore up his contract, demolished his dressing room trailer, pantsed the executive producer, and pilfered assorted office supplies while making lewd remarks to the studio receptionist. Thus began a lifelong rivalry between Gerald and Sparky, one scarcely rivalled by any in showbiz annals for its bitterness and animosity. In honour of the day on which hostilities were openly declared—July 12—and with apologies to those on both sides of the Troubles in Ireland, it has become known as The Battle of the Boing.  

     In the weeks to come, I’ll relate events as they unfolded, but for now, I have to cut this prologue short. For some reason, I’ve allowed myself to be talked into emceeing Funsville's annual Curly Joe DeRita’s Birthday celebrations, so the rest of my evening will be taken up shielding the projectionist from the inevitable hail of tin cans and rotten apples during the traditional showing of Snow White and the Three Stooges.

Uncle Fun

 

Funday Sunnies #79

This week, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan offers a possible solution to the unrest that plagues all too many parts of the world today:

 

I mean, look how well that generic leaf thing worked for Canada.

 

The revolution will not be televised...but everything else these days is on the air.

 

     Happy Fourth of July to all our American friends—especially the ones we don’t even know we’ve made yet.

     “Now, what’s the reason for that cryptic remark?” you may well be wondering to yourselves. Well, wonder no longer—here’s the explanation. Despite its status as a near-mythical haven from the dictates of conventional reality, even Funsville has been drafted into the game of “Who Can You Trust?”  otherwise known as the world political scene today. We here had always assumed ourselves, like Never-Never Land, Narnia, and Brigadoon, to be sitting somewhat upstream from the flow of current events.  Nonetheless, it seems that, through some error of geographical, geopolitical, or other generally good judgement, Funsville has wound up on the U.S. State Department’s list of hostile foreign powers. Or trusted allies…it’s all the same these days, really. They listen in on everyone, just to be on the safe side. Countries and alliances that don’t even exist anymore, like the Ottoman Empire and the Hanseatic League, probably receive their own special teams of surveillance experts.

     None of this particularly bothers any of us here. The wiretaps have generated considerable mirth among the townspeople—almost from the instant the tapping was discovered, all phone conversations have been conducted in everyone’s best Boris and Natasha accents from Rocky and Bullwinkle, complete with references to “Fearless Leader” and “The Master Plan”.

     As for us at the Fortress of Funitude, we found the bugs they planted within a matter of moments—in fact, Sparky helped show the “men from the gas company” who came to “check our system for leaks” the most acoustically-advantageous locations to install their equipment. This has given us two fresh sources of amusement. When we’re not using various household appliances to create ear-splitting interference, we re-enact old episodes of Fibber McGee and Molly. It’s only a matter of time before Special Ops and Navy SEALs swoop in on Wistful Vista to round up The Great Gildersleeve before he can launch his next counterstrike against the forces of freedom and democracy.

     I’ll tell you one thing, though: this is one locale where regime change won’t come easy. When they search Fibber’s closet for weapons of mass destruction, they’d better stand well clear, or they may never be heard from again once the cascade of debris has settled.

Uncle Fun