I never liked Huckleberry Hound. I didn’t like most of the Hannah-Barbera cartoons. It bothered my child brain that Yogi Bear could run miles and miles and still have the same background behind him. I had no way of knowing that animation was slouching toward the Dark Ages where a frame saved was a penny earned. It broke my heart to watch Tom and Jerry so poorly drawn, looking as middle aged and unfunny as my parents.
But, as with Bil Keene and Family Circus, what strange, Lynchian, existential lessons lurk in Huckleberry Hound At The Fire Station? It’s as if Mamet moonlighted for Peter Pan Records.
Huck is a loser at the beginning of the story and he’s a loser at the end of it. Oh. Yeah. Should have said “spoiler alert” first. In between, he lies, is an accessory to arson and destroys a fire truck. Like the banking and auto industry, he expects to get treated like a hero for doing his job badly. Unlike the banking and auto industry, he gets thrown out on his ass.
My mom always said watching too many cartoons would mess me up. Perhaps she was right.
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