To Serve Man

Ah, cannibal jokes! They never get old! Or do they?

There was a period, from probably the 1920s through the early 70s or so, when cannibal jokes in cartoons and comics were commonplace. The cannibals were often tied to black stereotypes and wore skimpy native garb and had bones in their hair and so on. The best such can be enjoyed in the context of the time or because of the ingenuity of the artists involved; the Betty Boop entry I'll Be Glad When You're Dead, You Rascal You takes a basic cannibal situation and turns it into a brilliant fever dream, helped more than a little by the oddball inclusion of Louis Armstrong singing his famous jazz tune about wanting his wife's lover to drop dead. But in general, it seems to me that the "Look, it's a cannibal! Laugh!" era is dead, slightly outlasting the "Look, an Indian! Funny" and "Look, a black person eating watermelon" cliches.

One cartoonist continues to rely on them, though, in a way that isn't especially offensive racially or politically so much as it's just cliched, dull, poorly executed, and unfunny. The strip is Reality Check a one-panel Far Side/Bizarro rip-off which began in 1995.


It's one thing when newspapers continue to carry comic strips which are past their prime but were once genuinely funny and creative and inventive, and which still may have occasional flashes of either wit or insanity. It's another when a strip has *never* been amusing or well drawn. The "artist" may be a very nice person, but it amazes me that this strip is still fairly widely carried, when the artwork has always looked fairly amateurish (most webcomics these days are more appealing visually) and the jokes are either incomprehensible or cribbed from old Clean Jokes for Kids books or from Joe Miller's attic. For some reason, cannibals show up frequently in his strips (as do aliens, superheroes griping about their lives, Frankenstein, and the Pillsbury Doughboy, plus lots and lots of generic people and talking animals). Yet this past week, *every* daily strip was a cannibal "joke." Some involved old and very basic puns (some of which he's used before) about how some names or phrases used to describe people also apply to food. OH THE HILARITY!



Cannibalism humor doesn't have to be tasteful (ahem ahem), but it requires more than ancient puns or the sight of severed limbs. Too many of these strips involved randomly detached feet and hands, and the joke below doesn't even make any sense!


Now, to cleanse the palate, here's how Harvey tackled the subject. The connotations may have been somewhat unintended; the story is "Deliciously Disguised" from Little Dot in Dot-Land #43, in which Little Dot disguises herself as a rabbit, haystack, and tree, only to find that animals constantly wish to consume her edible-looking outfits. The capper comes with the arrival of Little Lotta:



So we learn that Little Lotta's appetite is so rapacious that the thought of consuming human flesh, even that of a close friend, does not disconcert her. Lotta was probably attempting a joke (a variation of the "I could eat a horse" cliche), but I can't help feeling that Dingly Dell has been spared a Lotta Rampage only due to the lack of giant sandwich bread and condiments. Little Dot, good for her, asserts her rights as a woman and an individual not to be devoured, and her righteous wrath propels her into the air. You go, girl!

Men Are from Mars, Little Dot is from Venus

Suddenly, Harvey star Little Dot's obsession makes sense. She was rocketed to earth as a child and adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Polka. Instead of using her alien birthright to fight crime or form a multi-ethnic youth league, though, Dot just collects things with dots and spots on them.

Also, I'm rather taken aback by the choice of language. "Half-witted" or "nutty" would make sense for Harvey, but "retarded?" These were less politically correct times, true (this comes from Little Lotta #81, 1969). Still, the implication that Little Dot's singular quirk suggests a mental condition makes the character singularly tragic rather than whimsical and odd.

Mr. Bungleton, All-Star! Part 3

More Bungleton 1970! Right after our last visit to the man, once one skips past a calendar with Harvey stars in the middle, we get "A Tent's Moment," a five page epic which I've been reluctantly forced to condense here. First, let me draw your attention to the note below the title, "Introducing Mr. Bungleton." Introducing? When not only had he been struggling since 1967, but had appeared in the previous story even? Perhaps this was just a sign that Sid Jacobson and other staffers finally had faith in Bungleton, thanks to his going Howie Postal.



Mr. Bungleton says "Ho-ho!" He says that a lot in this story, either his effervescent jocularity bubbling our or an attempt at a new catchphrase. Mr. B. *bound* over the fence to help Audrey. He speaks graciously if floridly: "Well, as a kindly neighborly gesture, maybe I can help!" He's a sprightly fairy godfather, which of course sets up the hijanks as at least he bungles. Or does he?



A man of action and swift decisions, that's our Bungleton. Note again the rays of light as he makes "another decision." Bathed by brilliance or some holy benediction, our hero will not be deterred.



Well, okay, maybe he will be. Mrs. B. isn't too happy, and yet another fact is added to our store of Bungletonian knowledge. The great man's first name is Wilfred. As of course it should be. But ah, this new and improved Mr. Bungleton may falter but he never fails; he is not merely acted upon but he acts.



And Little Audrey is rightly amazed and holds this wonder being in awe, this combination uncle, grandfather, neighbor, gnome, and camping instructor. This time, Audrey speaks sense. Mr. Bungleton *can* do most anything.

Except, alas, establish himself as a bonafide Harvey star or even a cult figure. References to to Mr. Bungleton on the net are few and far between: a ComicVine stub which *does* justly refer to him as a Harvey hero, though sadly only because it's their default stub text and not in praise of his greatness. It notes an appearance in Harvey Wiseguys #1 from 1987, which may well be a reprint of one of the four canon appearances. If anyone has this book, or knows of any further appearances to add to this unofficial Encyclopedia Bungletonia, please let me know!

There's also a mention I myself made ages ago on a message board, and then most intriguingly, we have this. Little Audrey TV Funtime #28, the very next issue following our two in one Bungleton, features a story tantalizingly titled "Mr. Bungleton - All-Star." The cost prohibits me from obtaining a copy just now, but the title proves that Mr. B was gainining momentum in 1970. One wonders what hijinks, what brilliant bungletonning awaits in back issues. You may rest assured that any subsequent Bungleton sightings will be duly noted on this blog.

And now you know the rest of the Bungleton story. Good day!

Mr. Bungleton, All-Star! Part 2

Continuing our survey of all things Bungleton, Little Audrey's TV Funtime #27, from May 1970, is a pivotal issue. It features *two* Bungleton stories, and not as a minor character. The earlier stories featured art by Warren Kremer, whose work was generally effective but whose Bungleton doesn't stand out.

This time, Howie Post takes over. Post is an interesting figure and perhaps one of the more versatile artists and storymen to ever work for Harvey. This 1999 interview mostly focuses on his Anthro comic, which is a semi-comedic caveman series drawn semi-seriously, or so it semi-seems. The interview also touches in passing on his Harvey work (but no Bungleton mention, alas) and the Honey Halfwitch cartoons he made for Paramount. To John Kricfalusi, and no doubt others, Post's greatest achievement was simply as "the cartoony Harvey artist." Post rendered (and probably scripted) the classic Bungleton: short, round, a twinkle in his eye, a lilt to his moustache, and a derby replacing the porkpie.

Let's see the Post Bungleton in action:


At once, Bungleton is no mere foil, but effectively overshadows Audrey. He's friendly but no longer willing to let her antics disrupt his serenity. The little "idea" snap suggests a quick wit which sometimes succeeds, sometimes leads to bungling. Bungling by a ton, no doubt. At last the name, the art, and the personality seem to actually mesh. Ignoring the fact that Mr. B's apparently decided to raise his itchy-looking sweater so his belly can get some sunshine, this is the Mr. Bungleton I've come to know and love. And it's a pretty funny one-pager, really. Not laugh out loud, but quite amusing and in the way it was intended to be. Also, Audrey looks very much like the original Paramount model here, which has always been my preference.

The next stage on Bungletonian development is fairly simple, changing the hair color from white to ginger orange. Bungleton is still older, but this change suggests a sprightlier, more youthful Bungleton, less avuncular than still childlike despite the years. More on this in our very next chapter.