Krazy Kat: A Cartoon Called Life: Difference between revisions
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(Created page with "You may or may not have heard of Krazy Kat, but odds are heavy that you’re a fan of someone or something that was inspired or enamored by it. Chuck Jones of Looney Tunes fame, Cyndi Lauper, the film ''Pulp Fiction'', Bill Watterson of Calvin and Hobbes, Charles M. Schulz, and Michael Stipe from the rock band R.E.M. all come to mind. This isn’t accidental. There’s something about the surreal American southwestern atmosphere—that abandoned, barren, hopeless desert...") |
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You may or may not have heard of Krazy Kat, but odds are heavy that
Well, that is to
To get to the short of it, it later became a cartoon, in 1962. There were animated shorts prior to it, in an era closer to the comic
And how could I forget to tell you why it is sadistic? I would argue masochistic, too. You see, Krazy Kat stars an anthropomorphic cat and mouse duo named Krazy and Ignatz. You might think of something cute like Mickey Mouse (as you now know him—he was actually a rather rotten character in the ''Steamboat Willy'' days), or hopelessly violent like ''Tom and Jerry'', but the truth lays somewhere in the middle. The titular character, Krazy Kat, is so labeled by the peculiar rodent who rejects her romantic courtings in favor
pelting her in the head with bricks. Or him with bricks. Or it. Really, the answer is it. Strip creator George Herriman confirmed that Krazy was sexless, describing it as
It was 1964. I was five years old. There were very few television stations back then, so you put on what you turned on. Beetle Bailey and Snuffy Smith were other King Features favorites of ours, about a boyish military man and a hillbilly farmer who loved to nap, respectively.
The cartoon version of ''Krazy Kat'' played up
Just then, I heard the sound of what must have been a large truck or similar roaring away from my house and a loud slamming, like metal scraping against concrete by magnified a dozenfold or more. This was before kids were warned to never answer the door due to stranger danger, so curiosity got the best of me and I got up from the television set. Outside was a rather gruff man who I barely knew, and
All I remember is the sight of my dear
A single brick. Oh, it was drenched in vital fluids, organ matter, you know the rest. But all that. From a single brick? Curious how that took priority over my grief. I put on a pair of leather gloves in case the police asked me some questions and wanted to dust for fingerprints. I ended up burying it in my backyard.
As I said,
But here I sit, jotting this down on yellow notebook pads in prison. Twelve killings, all by brick. My uncle never did marry my aunt, but man, did she badger him. Always took it as flirtation, too. They had pity sex. Did I ever tell you about my son searching the sewers for ninja turtles, or my grandson playing power rangers during school recess? I guess that was OK, because they never got arrested for it.
It makes me scratch my head to this very day. That cartoon episode. I mean, did it really have to be so graphic? My aunt and uncle
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