What did I do on my summer vacation? Tried not to think about stuff like this.

So, anyway, hi there, classmates. It’s the girl everyone here calls “Moose”—I'm seated in the front row in the illustration, but for now I'm your temporary classroom monitor. Hold your spitwads 'til I'm done. Uncle Fun has handed this space over to me because he thinks I’m some kind of expert on this week’s topic. Having to go back to school makes me about as much of an expert on education as being a four-inch Ardox nail would make me an expert on carpentry. It works out roughly the same either way—you get hammered on constantly, and it leaves you feeling all flat in the head.

I’m stuck doing a solo because Sparky’s been excused from this remedial exercise. He’s what they like to call a “self-motivated learner”, which is a teacher-speak way of saying he’s unteachable. Whatever way he actually manages to absorb knowledge, it still doesn’t technically qualify as “education”. My best guess is that it involves a combination of osmosis, photosynthesis, and plain old dumb luck.

But that’s neither here nor there. If you can stand it (and I know I barely can), here’s my contribution to Show and Tell. It’s probably just as well that Sparky isn’t helping me—if he were, he’d be butting in with some lame joke about “Show and Tell” being an old variety act featuring a Swiss archer shooting apples off the head of a former Radio City Rockette.

Then again, maybe that would be better than what I’m about to present to you…if, as, and when I finally present it. The point I’ve been killing time trying to avoid getting around to is that, for a lot of kids like me, this is the end of the first week of school—and if you are like me, then the end of the first week of school can’t come soon enough. I stagger through it feeling like I’ve forgotten everything I’ve ever learned—and not just the stuff I was supposed to have learned in school. By the end of that first school week, I’m just starting to get the handle back on what to do at recess…or lunch…or how to tie my shoes without tying them to one another, for that matter.

To add insult to injury, I always seem run across at least one well-meaning sadist of a teacher who thinks that a pop quiz to review what we learned last year will help make the first day of school a meaningful experience for everyone. If there’s some definition of “meaningful” that involves making thirty children burst spontaneously and in unison into tears, then Mission Accomplished, Professor.

Because I don’t believe in suffering alone, I’m springing a pop quiz of my own on you. Get out your pencils and paper; find a calculator if you need to. This comprehensive exam begins right now. Put those crib sheets away, and don’t try looking over the shoulder of the student next to you for the answers—I’ll be watching.

MATH

You are the CEO of a corporation whose yearly earnings were $21,597,114,643.72. However, your operating costs were $45,823,228,651.91. How much money did you lose?

a. $24,226,114,008.19

b. Don’t ask me; we subcontract the numbers end of the business to an accounting firm.

c. Nothing: I took early retirement with a full pension and a hefty buyout package, so I’m way ahead on the deal.

 

ENGLISH

Which of the following is correct?

a. My two favourite musicians is Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars.

b. My two favourite musicians are Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars.

c. I really need to expose myself to a wider variety of better music.

 

HISTORY

The most important long-term consequence of the Battle of Hastings in 1066 was:

a. To reorient Britain politically, culturally, and socially away from the North Sea region, and towards the larger community of nations of Continental Europe.

b. To provide a marketing angle for the makers of the Bayeux Tapestry.

c. To ensure that Will and Kate would never consider “Harold” as a name for their new son.

 

SCIENCE

Which of the following is the most commonly-accepted theory for the disappearance of the dinosaurs?

a. Gradual climate change brought on by subtle shifts in the tilt of the Earth’s axis

b. Sudden climate change brought on by comets colliding with the Earth

c. Dinosaurs still walk among us—as you’ll discover when you meet my folks on parent-teacher night.

 

CIVICS AND GOVERNMENT

A series of checks and balances to limit executive power and safeguard the rights of ordinary citizens is best expressed in:

a. A British-style parliamentary system

b. The Constitution of the United States

c. A series of what and what to do what? No—seriously—that was a joke, right?

 

LITERATURE

Which of the following does not occur in a story by Franz Kafka?

a. A man turns into a giant cockroach and is shunned by his friends and family, without ever understanding why this has happened to him.

b. A man is tried and executed for an unnamed crime, without ever understanding why this has happened to him.

c. A man turns into a giant cockroach, goes to France, and is tried and executed in the place of another giant cockroach that looks just like him, without ever understanding why he’s wound up in a story by Charles Dickens.

 

Fortunately for all of us, that was just a practice test. I say “all of us” because I have no idea whatsoever how to mark it. Give yourself an “A” for effort if you made it this far. Class dismissed. Be sure to have your essay outlines ready for the next time we meet. The topic is “Should autodidacts qualify for tenure and a full pension from the teachers’ union?”

Moose



  

 

     I hope you’re all up for more news from the animal kingdom (I assume it still is a kingdom—unless there’s some UN-sanctioned regime change I haven’t heard about). It isn’t really news, but it seems topical again, in light of the recent discovery of a new mammal species in South America. (See my missive of last week for the rundown on that.)

     But—back to the subject at hand. We here in Funsville are ever ready to give credence to wild rumours, lend an ear to tall tales, fall for far-fetched fables and, when all else fails, believe the unbelievable. (What can I say? It helps to pass the time.) Despite all this, community consensus long held that one story which persisted in making the rounds had no more facts to back it up than a Canadian senator’s expense claim. Funsvillians reading this (and they won’t) will know exactly what I’m talking about. The rest of you (yes, both of you—or is it three now?) will need to be put into the picture. As pictures go, this one remains a little on the sketchy side, since it’s a picture of an animal that has only been recently discovered, and only to a certain degree—the once-legendary, and still largely elusive, feeny lizard.

     So, what’s a feeny lizard when it’s at home? Well, it’s definitely at home in Funsville and environs; whether you’ve encountered it or not wherever you are (or not) depends on whether you recognize the description I’m about to give you. (Take careful notes; I’m starting now. Ahem…) The feeny lizard is rumoured to be about yea high at the shoulder, and about yea long and then some, including the tail. As far as its habitat goes (and it goes about yea far, give or take a little) it tends to favour root cellars, crawlspaces, dark alleys, under the restroom sinks in certain cheaper bars and pubs, and any other place where it can’t be seen clearly. In fact, not being seen appears to be the feeny lizard’s true—and perhaps sole—raison d’être.

     Those who hold that seeing is believing are inclined to doubt the feeny lizard’s very existence. This opinion is not shared by those who trust their ears as much as their eyes. Whether you’re a skeptic or not, the feeny lizard will make its presence known to you with its distinctive namesake cry of “hey feeny feeny feeny feeny feeeeeeny”, which it delivers in a voice unnervingly reminiscent of the late Peter Lorre. This peculiar vocalization is a singular example of a highly specialized ecological niche, since the purpose of the cry is neither mating nor self-defense, but instead is nature’s way of ensuring that the feeny lizard would first be seen only by a herpetologist named Feeny. Many dedicated and devoted—not to mention unbalanced and obsessive—men and women answering to the name of Feeny have attempted to catch a glimpse of the lizard, only to find their efforts unvaryingly thwarted. It seems that, in addition to its other attributes, the feeny lizard possesses an innate ability to determine whether someone actually is named “Feeny”, or is merely answering to the name to see what might happen. The feeny lizard is very particular in this regard: expeditions led by Professors Finney, Fanney, Faney, Phiney and Fenner were all disastrous failures. An expedition led by a Professor Feeney also discovered nothing—except that, to a feeny lizard, spelling counts as well.

     Some small few years ago, the long-awaited moment finally came to pass—however, Dr. L. J. Kennington Feeny was so proud of being singled out for such a rare honour that he jealously guarded his discovery, refusing to share it with the scientific community, or any other community for that matter. Instead, he took the secret of the feeny lizard to his grave, where he sits, clasping a lily to his chest and waiting for the inevitable. Experts are sharply divided on the question of whether all of this provides better evidence for evolution, intelligent design, or the general idea that the Universe is badly in need of a tune-up.

     Whatever the case may be (as they say in the unclaimed luggage business), yes, Virginia, there is a feeny lizard—and if your name is “Virginia Feeny” you’ll have a chance of seeing it. Otherwise, you’ll have to make do with other signs, signals, and evidence. The tell-tale “F.L.”-shaped footprints in the dust around the stereo cabinet you haven’t used since you got your first iPod…

     …the teeny-tiny toothmarks on the collection of Monchhichis you lost interest in after the initial craze…the trail of slips from fortune cookies you never opened after your last several Chinese take-out orders. All these are clear indications that you may have a feeny lizard in your midst. If it’s only one, be thankful. The colony of feeny lizards we have living in between the roofing joists of the Fortress of Funitude have taken to sending down hand-calligraphed grocery lists, rendered in elegant cursive. My appreciation of artistic penmanship has led me to be rather a soft touch, with the attendant result that the feeny lizards have become increasingly bolder and more outlandish in their demands. Where I’m supposed to get ice wine-glazed artichoke hearts and organic baby Swiss chard at this time of year is anybody’s guess.

Uncle Fun    

P.S. If you haven’t had your fill of lizards for one sitting, you can follow the blue-lettered link and listen to another one of Mr. Feeble’s Fables—The Chameleon and the Image Consultant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Salutations, fellow fauna fanciers:

     Even as I greet you in this way, I realize that it’s rather a liberty on my part to assume that each and every one of you shares my abiding fondness for the animals…or any other groups fronted by Eric Burdon.

     Hm…not exactly the rip-roaring start I was aiming to get off to. Let’s try again…

      We here in Funsville take a special interest whenever an animal makes the news. (The name “Checkers” is still enough to draw a crowd when whispered in a back alley.) So many of our citizens are animals themselves—albeit mostly of the talking anthropomorphic cartoon variety—that there’s always a fair-to-middling chance that some local resident’s distant relative may be mentioned in the dispatches.

     The previous week’s headlines, however, brought us a long-overdue exception to that rule. Before last Friday, no-one in town—even in the critter-crammed Animal Avenue district—had any more idea than the rest of the world what an “olinguito” was.
 

      Of course, the olinguitos have known what they were are all along, despite the bulletins proclaiming “New animal discovered!” and so forth. As far back as they can remember, they’ve been doing whatever it is that olinguitos do, and feeling perfectly at home while doing it, in the remote depths of Andean jungle country. If science wants to call them “new” simply because it never noticed them before, surely that’s not the olinguitos’ problem. They’ll just keep going about their business while the experts get on with deciding whether an olinguito is more like a raccoon, a bear, a cat, a fox terrier, a cacomistle, a toy panda you win at the county fair, or my Aunt Agatha’s genuine imitation plush Orlon cloche hat.

     In the meantime, the minor cause célèbre swirling around the discovery of the olinguito has spun off a small musical tribute, by Animal Avenue’s resident bard and troubadour, the house piano player and bandleader at the Ashcan Club, Professor DeLuxe. Like the olinguito itself, it’s not, strictly speaking, 100% new. The tune is that old standard “Mona Lisa”, familiar to fans of the late great Nat King Cole, if no longer to anybody else. If you don’t know the melody, google it and have a listen before proceeding to the lyrical content below:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     Touching, stirring, yet somewhat poignant, n’est-ce pas? As I write these lines, the Animal Avenue Newcomers, Immigrants, Refugees and Fugitives Welcome Wagon is holding a special emergency meeting to prepare for the expected influx of olinguitos looking to escape the inevitable flood of taxonomers, conservationists, documentary filmmakers, photographers from National Geographic, eco-tourists, exotic pet traffickers and the zoologically curious that’s about to come their way. We’ll do our best to help them keep a low profile, but there are never any guarantees. This isn’t the first time that a newly discovered member of Mother Nature’s menagerie has taken up residence in Funsville…but more on that next time.

     While you’re waiting (and who could wait for anything like that without something to pass the time?), you can listen to another one of Mr. Feeble’s Fables. This one is about a species at the other end of the “just been discovered” spectrum…to be more specific, The Last Passenger Pigeon.

Uncle Fun    

 

 

 

 

The Battle of the Boing, Part 6

     If you’re following this story (and there’s no earthly reason why you should be), you’ll already know that Gerald McBoing Boing, the boy who speaks in noises, music and squeaks, turned the cartoon world upside down by turning stool pigeon at the House Un-American Activities Committee.

     Though his accusations damaged many a reputation, they hit Gerald himself even harder. Having a red-baiter in their ranks did not endear Gerald to his employer, UPA, a studio known for its attachment to liberal causes. Gerald went from being one of the studio’s top stars to persona non grata, securing only odd bit parts, such as Tiny Tim in Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol. To add insult to injury, Gerald was stripped of the unique contribution he could have made to this holiday special—his dialogue was dubbed in by another actor.

     This was to be Gerald’s last work for UPA—or any other studio—for quite some time. When Sparky encountered him a few years later, Gerald was decidedly down on his luck.

 

     You’ll remember that Sparky and Gerald were not on speaking terms—and if you don’t, the links to Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 of this story will put you in the picture. Circumstances being what they were, it seemed pointless to dwell upon the past. Putting their differences behind them, the two embarked on a new friendship that soon proved profitable for both.

 

 

     The reunion was not entirely a chance occurrence. Sparky had heard that the producers of a new sitcom were having trouble finding just the right sound effect to sell their pilot to network brass. Gerald came up with the effect; Sparky copyrighted and licensed the rights to it; and the rest is history. Whenever Elizabeth Montgomery wiggles her nose to make magic on an episode of Bewitched, half the magic belongs to Gerald.

 

 

     This went over so well that Gerald and Sparky were commissioned to furnish a sound for Barbara Eden’s blink on I Dream of Jeannie.

     So it was that two cartoon characters began a lucrative business providing signature sound effects for live-action TV shows. If you’ve heard the Skipper getting crowned by a coconut in Gilligan’s Island…

 

 

     …you’ve heard Gerald.

     Likewise with the instantly-recognizable helicopter blades from M*A*S*H…

 

 

     …Archie Bunker’s toilet…

 

     …and, well, just about anything on Star Trek.

 

 

     Sparky and Gerald branched out from television into other money-spinning sidelines. Gerald’s rendition of “La Cucaracha” on a car horn continues to be a big seller.

     The revenue from this joint venture has assured Gerald a comfortable living, and forms the basis of the slush fund for the care and upkeep of the Fortress of Funitude…including the all-too-frequent repair costs we incur.

 

     Sparky and Gerald would continue to be producing and marketing new material, but they dissolved their partnership due to a disagreement over ownership of the original concept for the squeaky sound SpongeBob makes when he walks.

     That, however, is a story I can’t tell you ‘til the courts are finished dealing with it. In any case, I’ve got no time to tell it to you now. The Catwoman Fanciers Society of Funsville is having its annual celebration of Julie Newmar’s birthday, and it’s always best to get there early…especially this year. You see, Milady Madeira M’Dear has promised that she and Miss Moose would take part in the occasion’s obligatory cosplay.

     For something like this, I want to be sure I’m in—you should pardon the expression—the catbird seat.

Uncle Fun