GET IN THE HOLE!!!

No, I am not a Tiger Woods/Phil Mickelson sycophant, trying through telepathic means to will the ball into the hole on the 17th green.

I am, rather, an ardent fan of Tom and Jerry cartoons from yesteryear. Countless afternoons after school I was plastered to the TV watching the antics of these two characters . Always there was a chase - Jerry, his arms outstretched like a sleepwalker, his little legs a blur of motion, managed to stay a hair’s length ahead of Tom, similarly postured, his legs twirling like a pinwheel.

“Get in the hole,” my brain screamed to Jerry every afternoon. “Get in the hole!” I was almost apoplectic with frustration because Jerry let his safe place elude him time and again as he scampered, raced, and careened past the sofa, the table, the lamp – the sofa, the table, the lamp – the sofa, the table, the lamp!

Hey! Wait a minute! How many sofa-table-lamp tableaux did this house have? Once I noticed this deliberate repetition, I stopped giving a rat’s ass whether Jerry ever found sanctuary; I became a willing victim of Hanna-Barbera’s low-grade duping of me and started trying to count how many times the sofa appeared in one cartoon.

It dawns on me that news broadcasters of today watched the same cartoons as I did. Their economic use of background graphics points to the fact that they, too, are operating under the sphere of influence cast by the creators of my favorite cartoons.

Take, for example, their coverage of Anna Nicole Smith. Gone for two months and counting, yet she’s still headline news. And no matter what words flood the teleprompter, these are the visuals served up each and every time:

Anna Nicole in front of the Supreme Court, clean-scrubbed face, yet potentially filthy rich, her blond scarf matching her flowing tresses;

Anna Nicole with Betty-Boop platinum curls, red ruby mouth curled into horse lips, batting down her fly-away Marilyn Monroe chiffon gown;

Anna Nicole, shell-shocked from labor and delivery, nestling her infant, her face plastered with post-traumatic something in lieu of Max Factor.

Next time you hear “This just in,” don’t bother looking up. It’s the same ‘ol, same ‘ol. Blond scarf; diaphanous dress; mother Madonna/ blond scarf; diaphanous dress; mother Madonna/ blond scarf, etc.

You know, the David Hasselhoff debacle just started and it’s too early to tell if this gripping story will have legs or not. But from the few segments that have surfaced thus far, I can already tell they’ve got their pictorial sequence all lined up. I’ve written a little ditty to accompany the shots they’re sure to run – and run – and run. It follows that old Burger King ditty, “Have It Your Way,” and it goes like this.

Gum that pickle.
Drool the lettuce.
Drunken debauch does upset us.
All we ask is that you please just heave it your way.
Heave it YOUR way,
HEAVE it your way.
Heave it YOUR way,
HEAVE it your way.

Okay. I’ve made myself good and sick now. Must put other images in my mind. I’m going to think back to the glory days of watching cartoons after school. Lots of times when we got home, the house would be redolent with the smell of fresh baked gingerbread cake. Does life get any better than that? Cartoons and cake. Hey, speaking of cake . . .

Cake Comments:

“I’d gladly pay you Tuesday for a Small But Tall today,” suggested one eager enthusiast.

“Silly Rabbit; cakes are for kids,” admonished one rabid fan.

“Small But Tall cakes are G-R-R-R-R-R-R-E-A-T,” roared another.


Cake Facts:

One Small But Tall will serve 12 illustrators or 15 animators.
12 illustrators or 15 animators,
12 illustrators or 15 animators.

Deja View: "I DID NOT HAVE AGREEMENT WITH THAT PRESIDENT!"

Can I possibly have heard correctly that Hillary has suggested that a law be passed to repeal the authorization to engage in war in Iraq that she and several others voted in favor of? Psssst! That ‘rewriting’ history has been tried in the past; the USSR, back in its meaner days, used to be a big fan of the rewrite when it conducted its pogroms. But the western world frowned on it. Still frowns on it today.

Holy Mother of Muckrakers. What lessons did she take away from Bill’s experience: Denial, by any other name is, status-Clinton-quo?

It is what it is, for crying out loud. You voted. Live with it. And then you might consider this: Guts are not just for guys. Girls should have guts, too. I know a girl who’s going to need them if she intends to run for the highest office in the land.

And if you ever really thought anyone was going to give you a mulligan, you should have begged for one that time you did that dumbass Bre’r Rabbit nonsense when you went to Alabama a while ago. That wasn't gutsy; that was just plain moronic. Whose clever strategem was it to go to the deep South and deliver a speech in Tar Baby-ese?

I know that running for office is rife with dangers and you have plenty of opportunity to shoot your mouth off. Maybe next time you feel compelled to say something stupid, you should pop some food in your mouth instead. Peanuts, cookies, a piece of cake. Hey, speaking of cake . . . . .

Cake comments:

“I’m steering this committee straight to a Small But Tall,” gushed one fan.
“This cake should be in EVERYONE’S cabinet,” enthused another.
“A vote for Small But Tall is a vote for flavor!” ranted one supporter.

Cake facts:

One cake should feed 15 arch conservatives or 12 bleeding heart liberals.