Get Fuzzy is a funny cartoon strip that takes place in an apartment occupied by a loner Rob, his lovable but dimwitted and gullible dog Satchel, and a sociopathic cat Bucky who loves to torment and exploit Satchel and who often has his weird cat friends over.
I have not seen either the stage production or the film version of the musical Cats but know enough to decide that it is not to my taste and also appreciate the humor of this recent strip.
Here is an actual performance of the song from the 1998 stage production.
No anthropormisation of animals is to my taste. Ever.
(It’s so ridiculous and so perverse)
I love “Get Fuzzy”. Also, isn’t his companion Bill the Cat from “Bloom County” (or a reasonable facsimile there-of)? Bill is my most favoritest comic cat of all time.
Now I feel like joining the furry community because of John’s comment.
Tabby, ?
I’m not referring to humans depicted as animals, I’m talking about animals depicted as humans. That’s to what anthropormisation refers, not its converse.
But sure, go ahead and be a furry. Be a plant, if you want to.
It’s nothing like pretending non-human animals are human animals.
PS, just for you, Tabby: the very movie that ensured I nevermore was forced to go on school excursions, after I made my feelings felt. I was about 12-13 years old at the time, and less diplomatic than I now am.
(It irritated me no end, and I expressed that during the showing)
PPS can you imagine all that sweat dripping off the dancers in their heavy costumes, after their prancings? I could, even then.
publicly @#2,
I don’t think that that’s Bill the Cat from Bloom County. This one is not as out there as Bill!
“(It irritated me no end, and I expressed that during the showing)”
I was going to say something, John, but now I’m suspecting that doing so would make me the jerk so I’m just going to step away.
Relax, Tabby. I’m only saying that, for me, it’s irritating.
I have no probs with furries or bronies or whatever; good on them.
Each to their own, just don’t force it on others, as was done to me back then.
—
To be on-topic, I hear the latest Cats movie bombed.
John Morales @#9:
There were some very nice slating reviews:
Peter Bradshaw/The Guardian: “The queasy fears prompted by one of the most disturbing movie trailers ever seen are realised in full in Tom Hooper’s jaw-dropping feline folly. …”
—
Richard Brody/The New Yorker: “Little in the career of Tom Hooper, the director of “Cats,” offered much hope. He has made dull, emotionally drubbing movies in which blandness (“The Damned United”) and stylelessness (“The King’s Speech”) veer toward tastelessness (“Les Misérables,” “The Danish Girl”). Nonetheless, filmmakers often strike new veins of inspiration mid-career, and the audacity of the digital conceit that Hooper undertook in “Cats” suggested the potential for other bold new ideas. Yet, not long into the production, it’s apparent that Hooper has filmed the dances like a professional—that is to say, with no sense of his own desires and curiosities, no sense of himself as an interested spectator filming what he wants to see. Rather, he films with a sense of what’s expected of him—of delivering to viewers an experience that he himself isn’t having. …”
—
Stephanie Convery/The Guardian: “‘A furry orgy in a dumpster’: what the reviews say about Cats” …
I remember seeing the original international run of The Phantom of the Opera in about 1990; it convinced my mum and I that Andrew Lloyd Webber was a musical god who could do no wrong. This convinced us to see Cats at the earliest opportunity. … We revised out opinion of him steeply downwards.
This has nothing to do with Cats or Get Fuzzy, and everything to do with puns (as I know Mano enjoys Pearls Before Swine). My own offering:
Something interesting happened exactly 100 years ago that most Americans are not aware of. During his last year in office, President Woodrow Wilson was very depressed so his wife decided to purchase a pet for him to ease his transition from public to private life. In an attempt to be discrete, she went to a shop in nearby Baltimore. She looked at dogs and cats but couldn’t find anything she liked. Then she saw a bird with beautiful orange and black plumage, and bought it on the spot. She returned to the White House where she presented it to her husband. President Wilson absolutely adored the bird and the staff hadn’t seen him that happy in many years. His chief of staff asked him what he was going to name his new pet. Wilson replied, “I’m going to name her after my beloved grandmother. We used to call her Mem. As the days turned into weeks, Wilson’s affection for Mem only strengthened and his disposition brightened. By the spring of 1920, the staff had decided to honor the president’s pet with a special day of recognition. Many senators and congressional representatives were invited to a party at the White House. Unfortunately, some of the congressmen were a little confused by the intent of party and thought the president was proposing a national holiday. So they introduced a bill into Congress which passed easily. That is why on the last Monday in May we celebrate Mem Oriole Day.
Oops, discrete/discreet
Wow, that was a classic shaggy dog story (a long setup for a truly bone crushing pun.)