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Posted

this is one of the best from people who made the best for years...Saturday mornings for alot of us would have sucked without em!!!!!!

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5REE8PG4UA&feature=related



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Posted

Yep, they don't make them like that any more. Has anybody else noticed that when they show old cartoons on TV today they've edited out anything they consider violent? Several years ago one of my kids was watching the Road Runner, and you saw the Acme safe falling from the sky but just before it hit the coyote, it would switch to another scene.

 

I'm amazed what they do in America today to "protect" our kids. On the one hand they show Family Guy and South Park (which I like) on prime time when any kids can see them, but they don't feel our kids can handle a coyote getting crushed by a falling safe.



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Posted (edited)

Even Popeye & Brutus would fight like mad,but that didn't want to make me fight,or for example the 3 stooges WTF I or anyone else I knew would go around bopin' kids on the head with a hammer or put a crowbar under someones nostrils and give it a yank.god there must've been some pretty stupid parents out there to raise one hell of dumb kid.Too bad.

Edited by JohnnyDos


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Posted

I love Fog i say i love Foghorn Leghorn :thumbsup: we were all brought up watching these cartoons now i never see any on our TV anymore Tom&Jerry Bugs Bunny Road runner&Wily coyote or Popeye either, think Popeye is my all time favourite though.



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Posted

I HAD TO WATCH THE WHOLE CARTOON :w00t: ...... good old days yep . our daughter is 19 now but when she was younger she never liked cartoons :crazy: . thnx for the vid billy . :smoke:



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Posted

I simply cannot believe you intentionally exposed me to this. Thank you very much. Do you know that you just destroyed the efforts of dozens of psychiatrists and a half-century of treatment? How could you?

 

I am slowly keyboarding this message while huddled in a corner of my bedroom in a near-fetal position, awash in my own bodily fluids and filth, unable even to unlock the door to allow my poor wife in with my drugs. I fear I shall never again leave this room, else I be exposed to TV screens, the sight of which cause my bowels to move involuntarily, nor go outside where I might chance upon one of the objects of the severe mental distress which has plagued me since my parents exposed me to 1950s cartoon violence.

 

Oh, the abject horror of Elmer Fudd, bent on unloading both barrels into that poor, little bunny rabbit or Daffy Duck screaming "Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" as he tried to escape that murderous fiend. If it wasn't Foghorn Leghorn trying to wring the neck of defenseless little chickens, it was Sylvester eating an imprisoned Tweety Bird alive, ALIVE, for God's sake. Or Yosemite Sam firing his six-shooters indiscrimately at anything that walked by. And then, and then, there was the worst: the abject violence of Brutus and Popeye doing things to each other than no human should endure.

 

You don't know what it did to me, what I've been through. But then, how could you? How could anyone understand the years and years of tormented nightmares which led me to terrible things like hanging my sister's Barbie from the Lilac tree or putting her Little Miss Muffy doll in the coal furnace; or making up terrible rhymes about pure and innocent Dick and Jane - even Christmas was not spared. Dare I repeat it: "Jingle Bells, shotgun shells, rabbit got away." (Please forgive me.) Yes, it was those terrible, violent cartoons that led me to evil, to the dark side, to creating clay rockets with little clay people in them that I would hurl against the wall so as to warp and twist the little clay bodies; to loading my slingshot with sand to wreak havoc on innocent hornets; to frying those poor little ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass, to shooting toy soldiers with my BB gun and then and then, at long last, to the greatest horror of them all: joining XI that I might virtually kill by the hundreds, nay, by the thousands, even my friends and fellow clansmen and any others that dared cross my path.

 

It took many years, but I finally buried these terrible memories and lock them away in some dark recess of my mind.

Until today. Until today.

 

I don't know that I can go on. I, I.........



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Posted

I simply cannot believe you intentionally exposed me to this. Thank you very much. Do you know that you just destroyed the efforts of dozens of psychiatrists and a half-century of treatment? How could you?

 

I am slowly keyboarding this message while huddled in a corner of my bedroom in a near-fetal position, awash in my own bodily fluids and filth, unable even to unlock the door to allow my poor wife in with my drugs. I fear I shall never again leave this room, else I be exposed to TV screens, the sight of which cause my bowels to move involuntarily, nor go outside where I might chance upon one of the objects of the severe mental distress which has plagued me since my parents exposed me to 1950s cartoon violence.

 

Oh, the abject horror of Elmer Fudd, bent on unloading both barrels into that poor, little bunny rabbit or Daffy Duck screaming "Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" as he tried to escape that murderous fiend. If it wasn't Foghorn Leghorn trying to wring the neck of defenseless little chickens, it was Sylvester eating an imprisoned Tweety Bird alive, ALIVE, for God's sake. Or Yosemite Sam firing his six-shooters indiscrimately at anything that walked by. And then, and then, there was the worst: the abject violence of Brutus and Popeye doing things to each other than no human should endure.

 

You don't know what it did to me, what I've been through. But then, how could you? How could anyone understand the years and years of tormented nightmares which led me to terrible things like hanging my sister's Barbie from the Lilac tree or putting her Little Miss Muffy doll in the coal furnace; or making up terrible rhymes about pure and innocent Dick and Jane - even Christmas was not spared. Dare I repeat it: "Jingle Bells, shotgun shells, rabbit got away." (Please forgive me.) Yes, it was those terrible, violent cartoons that led me to evil, to the dark side, to creating clay rockets with little clay people in them that I would hurl against the wall so as to warp and twist the little clay bodies; to loading my slingshot with sand to wreak havoc on innocent hornets; to frying those poor little ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass, to shooting toy soldiers with my BB gun and then and then, at long last, to the greatest horror of them all: joining XI that I might virtually kill by the hundreds, nay, by the thousands, even my friends and fellow clansmen and any others that dared cross my path.

 

It took many years, but I finally buried these terrible memories and lock them away in some dark recess of my mind.

Until today. Until today.

 

I don't know that I can go on. I, I.........

dont expect me to feel sorry for you. lol

 

The only problem with them days was once the cartoons were over... their was not a damn thing to watch. Plus the news came on at 5 to 7 so you could not watch tv then either. VCRs had not come out yet and we did not have the Internet. Nudie magazines back then were like children s books today and I used to get bored alot making time move real slow.

 

Other than that... loved it back then. lol



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Posted

My hero.......

5024031b4a2b6_Tex_Avery_portrait.jpg

 

502403468c854_swing1024.jpg

 

50240361da5fb_million1024.jpg

 

Where would the world be without Droopy?



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Posted (edited)

yeah!!! got the whole tex avery's cartoons on dvd sets, was a xmas gift from my daughter! ain't she cute?

Btw, here's one of my fav...

Edited by Sykorsky


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Posted

My hero.......

5024031b4a2b6_Tex_Avery_portrait.jpg

 

 

Who is your hero, Liberace?



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Posted

Little Old Man! You know it's Tex Avery. Damn, you must be too close to the Chevron refinery explosion. Too much gas drifting over from Richmond?

Told Chevron over & over, you can't just certify everyone to be operators.......oh well, the computers did a fine job of predicting failure again. Thank you California! Thank you CALOSHA!

502470e8ee69d_richmondrefinery.jpg

Welcome to the future of FUCKED UP management. Find THIS funny? It's the future of our petrochemical industry. Get used to these pictures. Get used to $5 a quart 5w-20 because ALL our lube oil comes from Richmond. Painted ourselves in a corner and this is the result. Liberace my ass. I no longer find anything funny after this bullshit. I truly wish Cali-fuckia would just break off and sink into the Pacific.



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Posted

Richmond? No that's a picture of where I live. I had some especially hot Mexican food with black beans for dinner last night and ripped one loose shortly after that. They put a shelter-in-place order on most of the north bay area as a result.

 

That bridge you see in the picture is the Richmond/San Rafael bridge. When I was about 21 I took my Honda CB750 across it in the middle of the night at 120 mph without a helmet. Ah the good old days.

 

Yeah, Richmond sucks. Fortunately I'm upwind from there. I think Spanky was born and raised there, he could tell you a lot about it.



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Posted

I simply cannot believe you intentionally exposed me to this. Thank you very much. Do you know that you just destroyed the efforts of dozens of psychiatrists and a half-century of treatment? How could you?

 

I am slowly keyboarding this message while huddled in a corner of my bedroom in a near-fetal position, awash in my own bodily fluids and filth, unable even to unlock the door to allow my poor wife in with my drugs. I fear I shall never again leave this room, else I be exposed to TV screens, the sight of which cause my bowels to move involuntarily, nor go outside where I might chance upon one of the objects of the severe mental distress which has plagued me since my parents exposed me to 1950s cartoon violence.

 

Oh, the abject horror of Elmer Fudd, bent on unloading both barrels into that poor, little bunny rabbit or Daffy Duck screaming "Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" as he tried to escape that murderous fiend. If it wasn't Foghorn Leghorn trying to wring the neck of defenseless little chickens, it was Sylvester eating an imprisoned Tweety Bird alive, ALIVE, for God's sake. Or Yosemite Sam firing his six-shooters indiscrimately at anything that walked by. And then, and then, there was the worst: the abject violence of Brutus and Popeye doing things to each other than no human should endure.

 

You don't know what it did to me, what I've been through. But then, how could you? How could anyone understand the years and years of tormented nightmares which led me to terrible things like hanging my sister's Barbie from the Lilac tree or putting her Little Miss Muffy doll in the coal furnace; or making up terrible rhymes about pure and innocent Dick and Jane - even Christmas was not spared. Dare I repeat it: "Jingle Bells, shotgun shells, rabbit got away." (Please forgive me.) Yes, it was those terrible, violent cartoons that led me to evil, to the dark side, to creating clay rockets with little clay people in them that I would hurl against the wall so as to warp and twist the little clay bodies; to loading my slingshot with sand to wreak havoc on innocent hornets; to frying those poor little ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass, to shooting toy soldiers with my BB gun and then and then, at long last, to the greatest horror of them all: joining XI that I might virtually kill by the hundreds, nay, by the thousands, even my friends and fellow clansmen and any others that dared cross my path.

 

It took many years, but I finally buried these terrible memories and lock them away in some dark recess of my mind.

Until today. Until today.

 

I don't know that I can go on. I, I.........

 


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