Actor and singer Thurl Ravenscroft was born on this day in 1914 (he died in 2005.) What, you never heard of him?
How 'bout this guy?
Yes, that's Ravenscroft's voice coming out of Tony's mouth. As for his vocals being "augmented", well, watch, and especially listen to, him in 1980s interview:
I sense not all that augmentation was needed.
One notable credit was oddly missing in that interview (perhaps because for years it went, again oddly, uncredited), so I'll include it here. First, some background:
You see, when Chuck Jones (right) set out to turn a book by Dr. Suess (left) into a TV Christmas special, he wasn't content merely to have top-notch animation. He wanted it to be musically top-notch too, and so to that end hired Thurl to sing this now iconic song:
Thespian Mae Questel was born on this day in 1908 (she died in 1998.) If you don't recognize the name, you at least may recognize the iconic cartoon character to whom she lent her voice:
When Betty Boop made her animation debut in 1930, she was a dog. I don't mean that unkindly, that she was a homely human woman. No, I mean that literally. She was neither homely nor human but a member of the species Canis familiaris. Allow me to explain. At the time another anthropomorphic pooch named Bimbo was animation studio head Max Fleischer's most popular character. Fleischer came up with a story for a cartoon short that had Bimbo as a dishwasher in a nightclub in love with a sexy canine singer, and asked his leading animator Grim Natwick, to come up with a design. Natwick's Betty was similar to the later human version, except that she had droopy ears and a little black nose. The subsequent short, "Dizzy Dishes", did well, and Betty remained both a supporting player and a sexy dog (she's seen in a lacy bra in one pre-Code cartoon) for the next ten or so shorts (sources vary.) Theater operators made it clear to Fleischer that they wanted to see more Betty and less Bimbo. And that it wouldn't hurt to remove any urge towards bestiality on moviegoers' parts if they were given an actual member of the species Homosapiens to drool over. And so Betty was humanized, her droopy ears replaced by earrings, and the dark nose transformed into a pert dash. As for Bimbo, he stuck around for a while as a supporting player, remaining a canine. Needless to say, the relationship between him and Betty from that point on was strictly platonic. Around this time (sources again vary), Mae Questel took over vocal duties from Betty's original portrayer Margie Hines and enacted the squeaky-voice flapper for eight years, longer than any other actor. However, that wasn't Questel's only acting achievement, as you'll find out in this interview from the 1980s:
Still sounds like Betty, doesn't she? Probably the reason Questel was asked to do the character one more time in 1988's Who Framed Roger Rabbit?:
Recently, a musical based on Betty Boop opened and very shortly thereafter closed on Broadway. Perhaps if the show's producers had found some psychic who could have channeled Mae Questel's vocal talents, it would still be running today.
Ah, yes, Fort Knox, where some 147.3 million ounces of gold bullion is stored--or is it? New doubts have been raised:
What I gathered from watching that is, no matter what the conspiracy theorists say, the gold is there after all. Still, in the off-chance it's not, what can the United States do to stave off...whatever bad thing that happens if the gold isn't there?
The solution may lie in one of our oldest fairy tales. Take it away, Edward:
Turnips instead of gold? In that case we would need Fort Knox more than ever. After all, turnips are vegetables and as such last much longer in a...
Shortly after A Bonfire of the Vanities came out, Tom Wolfe wrote an essay that took novelists of the day to task for wasting all their prose on navel-gazing and not directing their attention on society at large (as he had just done with Vanities.) Another way of putting it is these novelists were putting the personal over the political, and it needed to stop. While I understood Wolfe's point, I wondered why does it have to be one or the other. After all, society is composed of people with, well, navels. And while they may prefer we think of them as giants that walk the Earth, politicians are people, too, and can like anybody, can take things personally (which we may be seeing played out at the moment.) Isn't there a novelist out there capable of a balancing act between our innermost thoughts and the world's outermost outbursts?
Not a novelist, as it turned out, but a cartoonist. Jules Feiffer was his name. Starting in 1956 in the alternative newspaper The Village Voice, the comic strip Sick, Sick, Sick, (later syndicated to mainstream newspapers as Feiffer), there is no need to divide your attention between the personal and the political, as you can now look at them as two sides (one with a belly-button, the other with a commander-in-chief) of the same coin:
Just as navel-gazing and socioeconomics both coexist in the same world, so too does comic strips and other forms of media that Feiffer also dabbled in from time to time such as plays, screenplays, novels, children's books, and this Oscar-winning animated short from 1960:
I know it's dated, but they could always bring the draft back. After all, Greenland awaits.
