In Shakespeare, the fool was the one who spoke truth to power. The fool could get away with saying things that a normal subject could lose his head over. Literally. America seems to have chosen Mickey Mouse as the National Fool. Not a wise choice. In fact, a mortal disaster to the national frame of mind. The essay that follows argues for a better, wiser fool, one equal to the times. Let's entitle it "A Rocket and a Pair of Rollerskates...
The roadrunner, a smart ass little bird with a smart ass little smile blasts into the frame, always on a dusty desert road, stops abruptly, looks at Wile E. Coyote, who, til then, has been minding his own business, sticks his tongue out, beep beeps like Volkswagen, and zooms over the horizon. Over and over again the little twerp torments the Coyote thus. This pisses old Wile E. off. He'll catch that bird and have him for lunch. Trouble is, the bird is very very fast. Faster than your average Coyote.
So Wile E gets out the Acme Catalogue and orders a rocket and a pair of roller-skates. The Roadrunner blasts by, with a cheery beep beep, Wile E. lights the fuse on the rocket and the race is on, and Wile E. is gaining fast, sporting a maniac's toothsome grin. Until the sharp turn. The bird's got traction. Wile E's on roller-skates with a rocket strapped to his back. He's not turning. He's flying. The rocket fizzles out as Wile E takes stock of the situation, does a forlorn take to the camera (We wait for this take. It's the whole point) and plunges to the jagged rocks below, leaving only a poignant puff of dust. The endless cycle of desire and disappointment. Wile E's faith in technology is complete and unassailable, even though every hair brained invention leads to disaster and the jagged rocks below. It was beautiful, the way he just kept trying.
We watched the Bugs Bunny-Roadrunner hour with wide eyes and happy hearts. Something made sense. There was a feeling of peace and communal understanding with Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner, and Bugs and Elmer, and Yosemite Sam, and Daffy Duck, and Foghorn Leghorn, and Sylvester and Tweety and Pepe Le Pew. Kindred spirits all. They felt like the world felt. Vain, funny, dangerous, ironic, and ultimately, foolish. When Yosemite Sam says... "Ah came to see a high divin' act, and Ah'm a'gonna SEE a high divin' act..." Well, we understood old Sam perfectly. Disney was a whole n'other thing.
Disneyland, the enchanted kingdom, also held powerful sway over the young imagination. When it opened to thundering fanfare, every child ached to go there. We were fans of Davey Crockett, watched with growing interest as Annette Funicello's tits blossomed forth on the Mickey Mouse club, and pretty much spent every Sunday evening with old Walt and his Wonderful World. Too bad it was so often so far from the truth, any truth. It was full of kindness, and clear choices between good and evil, and wonderful, if sappy, music but it just wasn't real. Walt was big time delusional, like more than a few visionaries, sure if he said it well enough, his version of the world would prevail. To his credit, there was much that was beautiful about Walt's dream for humanity. It was just too narrow, too sweet, and not at all the way it is to be a human alive in this world. The mad machine he made to carry out his vision ended up being a prodigious cash cow, and a force for the dark side. But Walt wasn't in it for the money. He was trying to save the world. Like most who entertain such visions, he damn near ruined the place.
It all comes down to Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny. All of it. The crap on the screen and the radio, the cult of vapid celebrity, the unreality of reality television and Wal-Mart and the War in Iraq for the love of mike. It all comes down to Mickey and Bugs. When America chose Mickey over Bugs as her guiding fool, the die was cast, and the shit, as they say...
Consider Mickey. What did he ever do? What did he ever say that you can remember? Did he have a sense of humor? Was he brave? Wise? Huh? No. He was a mouse with big black ears and a silly voice. All he was was cheerful. The perfect cult follower. Ever hear Mickey ask a good question? No. Mickey was, let's face it, nothing more than a cheerleader for dumb stuff. Bugs opened every conversation with... "Eh, what's up doc?" Who are you going take with you, to cover your back in the bazaars of Marrakesh? Bugs, all the way.
The world was once a very different place. It had clean streams you could drink from, smoky bars and jazz, snap brim hats and whiskey. It had admired wits and thinkers, legendary disagreements, celebrated by both sides, mysteries, wonders, nations unimmagined and languages seldom heard. It had codes of conduct devised by common consent to make this travail a little more civilized, sometimes, even elegant. It had fearless champions of every idea imaginable. It had craftsmen and divine diversity. Every town had a hamburger joint, and each one had a name of it's own. It was a world of surprises, disappointments and delights. Oh, to be there now. If you're looking for the perfect American small town, as lionized by Disney, you're best shot is "Main Street" at Disney World, not a real town at all, but a plastic replica. How did this come to pass?
You're unfettered market, also championed by old Walt, did the whole thing, yelling "Whoopee" all the way to the bank. Small business struggled whilst the big got bigger. Disneyland became Disney World. Are the seeds of all of this discernible in the Cartoons that begat the fortunes?
Disney's masterpieces, Bambi, Cinderella, Snow White, Pinnochio, share melodramatic evil that is always trumped by good, usually through a happy accident, handsome prince, or a heavy handed lesson like Pinnochio turning into an ass. They were light on insight into the devious workings of the kind of evil that supports the monumental injustice that is today's world, insisting that a heart full of love will always prevail.
Looney Tunes had a much different take on the world. The smaller scale of the operation, compared to Disney, left room for some pretty radical stuff. In fact, Chuck Jones, the greatest of the Looney Tunes auteurs, and the immortal Mel Blanc, the voice of all the great characters, shared constantly raised eyebrows as they gazed upon society. There was a worldliness in their work. They quoted and satirized opera, and did a revisionist history of the voyage of Columbus, in which Bugs proves the world is round by throwing a baseball over the horizon. Then he waits, turns in the opposite direction, thumps his catchers mitt and here comes the ball, back from its round the world flight. It lands with a thump in his mit, and we see that it has travel stickers all over it. Istanbul. Paris. Rome. This is somehow more satisfying than a Disney choir singing "It's a Small World After All".
The American appetite for visionaries is depressing and dangerous. Once upon a time, there was more "I'm from Missouri" built into the fabric of the nation. Perhaps the Achilles heel is the susceptibility to hokum in Show Bizz. Show Bizz sells the visionaries to the people. The big time movie studios are pro the status quo. Bread and circuses. This was not always the case. They used to be iconoclasts, run by a band of madmen. Much better situation for the life of the nation. Looney Tunes was a largely unfettered creative enterprise. There was an anarchistic take on almost everything, and the main thing was, if you don't laugh, you'll end up crying.
Americans have been suffering a serious loss of themselves lately, their image abroad tarnished by the machinations of the present government. A people once known for openness, optimism tempered by scepticism, and a fearless "can do" attitude has become fearful, monolithic, and intolerant in the eyes of the world. That this is not true, that there are many dissenters and "old fashioned" Americans holds no sway. All are tarred with the "Bush brush". Too bad. And Mickey Mouse is the one to blame. Mickey is the guiding light nowadays, and no good can come of it.
Bugs Bunny was a wise ass. He saw his enemies as wrong headed fools, not to be feared but outfoxed, in elegant stratagems that contained profound lessons regarding the hubris that drove them to believe that they could "kill the wabbit". Of course they couldn't. The "wabbit" was the American everyman, cheerful, smart, resourceful, artful, fearless and funny. He and Wile E. Coyote served up visions of a world that is ridiculous on the face of it, but bearable because the spirit is always willing, the heart always brave, and the whole damn thing profoundly funny. America, at it's best, is Looney Tunes, not Disney World. I, a Canadian who loves Americans, see this as clear as day. The tragedy is, Dubya probably thinks he's Yosemite Sam, when in fact, he's Mickey Mouse. And Mickey Mouse, as we've established here, is far from the best that America has to offer.
Disney didn't parse justice in his work. He was obsessed with morality, and worse, goodness. Looney Tunes gave every living mortal his come-uppance. This is the American way. American's don't torture, they don't start wars. American's, and here we're talking about the "street", are friendly, but wary, unfailingly kind and hopeful, but always ready for the other shoe to drop. The current administration is un-American, and it pains those of us who lived and died with Wile E. Coyote and Bugs that no one is just coming out and saying it.
Dissenting Americans should embrace Bugs and all that he stands for. They will take as their slogan, "Eh, what's up doc?" They will retire their terminal earnestness, and tell a suffering public that all America has to do to find it's true glorious Humphrey Bogart self and be loved by the world, is strap a rocket to it's back, put on a pair of rollerskates, light the fuse, and once again, take off after that stupid bird. The futility of it all is it's majesty. I mean, you are on a pair of rollerskates with a rocket on your back. What's important is this. It's the rueful take to the rest of us, the "oh shit" before the long fall to the rocks below that makes the world love you, understand you, and keeps us ready to stand with you when the danger is real.