Open Letter to the Rat in my Backyard

Dear Rat,
I thought you were cute. You reminded me of your gentle domestic cousins. Still, you scared birds off the bird feeder and ate a lot of food. This couldn't continue.
I installed a baffle on a feeder post.
You learned a climb a nearby wall and jump.
I sprayed and scattered hot pepper mixes on the feeder.
You sneezed and kept eating.
I bought a feeder within a cage to keep out larger creatures (that is, you).
You squeezed in anyway.
Things got worse. You invited your rat friends over. You made a mess. You destroyed my squirrel feeder and chewed on my bird feeders. I worried about disease and property damage. Would you chew your way indoors?
I baited my larger Hav-A-Hart trap. A midnight inspection found you trapped within. I slipped some food and nesting material through the bars so you'd be comfortable until I could relocate you in the morning...
...except by then you were gone. You'd eaten the food, worked the door open, and escaped.
You, my friend, have signed your death papers. So get out of my yard now or you're going to the big hamster wheel in the sky.
Sincerely,
Namowal

Buzzy Buddy

click picture for larger image.

I found this fledgling hummingbird on my lawn a few years ago. He sputtered around like a broken helicopter, rising a few feet and crashing. I'd have left him there*, but two cats seemed very interested. I scooped him up. Both cats came up to me and stood on their hind legs, begging for their toy.
I moved the bird to a jasmine bush in my back yard (away from the cats) and snapped this photo. He resumed flying lessons for the next few days before taking off for good.
I get a lot of hummers at my feeder. Each time I see one, I wonder, Is that you, Buzzy Buddy?

*he wasn't hurt- he was just trying out his wings like a proper fledgling.

Soap Operas

I don't get these at all.
When I was little I figured it was one of those mysteries I'd understand once I was older.
I'm older.
I still don't understand their appeal.
They all look alike. Semi-glamorous setting, high end clothing, coiffed hair, and not much else. I feel like a space alien watching another species when I look at one:

If I were a space alien, here's the notes I would take:

Observation:
Person X says something to person Y. Person Z says something. Closeup on person X. Ajax commercial.
Analysis:
Heck if I know. I can't figure these people out. That being said, I can safely conclude that Ajax is tough on grease.

"We Can Tell You're On Something!"

In 2000 worked night shifts.
I was driving home around four am and accidentally turned right on a red light (the sign was placed between two corners just meters apart. I thought it referred to the second corner, not the first) Red and blue lights cop lights flashed in my rear view mirror. I pulled over.
Officer Jerk asked for my license and registration, and turned his flashlight on my face. "She's blown," he observed, as partner Officer Jerkette looked on.
I wasn't sure what this meant, but they cleared up. My pupils were huge. Surely I'd been partying all night and was as coked out as a 1977s dance club.
I wasn't alarmed. For one thing, I'd never done coke (or meth, or crack) in my life. Secondly, my pupils are unusually large. ( I'd seen an eye doctor about it a few years earlier. He confirmed they were big but otherwise healthy). Surely the cops would realize this was a mistake.
Not so. They didn't buy my explanation, patted me down, and searched the car for my "stash".
They were convinced I was a drug fiend. Every thing I said was interpreted that way.

Me: I was coming from work! It's just up the street. Ask them yourself.

Officer Jerk: We don't need to get your work involved in this.

Me: Yes, ask them where I was and what I was doing. They're my alibi.

Officer Jerk: You came from the Alibi Room?*

The Advil and other over-the-counter items in my purse? Obviously these were to quell the side effects of my evil habit.

All they found in my car was a blister pack of some sort of herbal vitamin suppliant. It was obviously a legal, commercial product. Officer Jerk just knew it was something worse.
"What's this?" he demanded.
"It's yours if you want it," I said, knowing this "evidence" wouldn't get me in trouble.
"That's okay," he said. "I don't like to put things in my body." Jackass.
He thought he found the jackpot in the trunk. I kept a sketchpad with me, plus pencils, and a sharpener which I kept in a baggie to catch the shavings. Officer Jerk raised the shaving-filled baggie in triumph.
"And what might this be?" he asked, like he'd caught the naughty kid at the cookie jar.
When he put the flashlight on them he agreed that they were, in fact, pencil shavings.
They also found a true crime book. They thought that was funny. Har de har.
I thought them finding nothing would be the end of it. It wasn't.
"We can tell you're on something," Officer Jerkette kept saying. "Admit it! We can tell by the way you're acting**!"
"I'm not on anything!" I said. "Can't you just run a test or something?"
"We can arrest you and do a blood test," she said, gravely. "And when it comes out positive that's six months in jail. Is that what you want?"
By now I upset. Getting blamed for something I didn't do. Something I never did. Having everything I said twisted to support their stupid theory. The fact that I might be arrested for something I didn't do. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"If you didn't do anything, why are you upset?" Officer Jerkette demanded. "This doesn't add up."
Next came roadside tests. Close your eyes, spread your arms, touch your nose etc.. By now the sun was rising and commuters could slow down and watch the show.
"Admit what you did," they said, at least five times, "And we'll let you go.***"
Then they stepped away to discuss whether or not to arrest me. I suspect at least one of them had reluctantly figured out that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't a coke-blowing, meth-smoking, crack fiend after all. After five or ten minutes of chatting, they said that they'd "give me a break" and "only" give me a ticket. That was nice of them.

*A nearby bar.

**Earlier that night I had worried that there was something "wrong" with me that made people think I was weird. (I was something of a black sheep at that job- not shunned, but defiantly not one of the gang.) And now professionals in uniform were telling me how odd I was acting...

***Have innocent people ever fallen for that line and confessed to something they didn't do? I'll bet it's happened.

Idiot's Delight Tuna Salad

My improvised recipes are usually bad news, but this week I hit the jackpot.

1 single serving pack of chunk light tuna (about 2.6 oz)
lemon juice (I use the plastic lemon)
Louisiana style hot sauce
Mayonnaise

Drain tuna (if it's from a can) or pat dry (if it's from an envelope) and dump it in a mixing bowl. Add several squirts of lemon juice and blend it in thoroughly with a fork. Repeat, if necessary, until fishy scent is neutralized. Add Louisiana hot sauce to taste (depending on how spicy you like things). Add mayonnaise to taste (I use a twelve gram packet of of it).
That's it. It's now ready for your sandwich or crackers.

I discovered this by accident. I'd been making lazy tuna salad (albacore + mayo + relish) for lunch. Then I cheaped it out and bought the "premium chunk light" stuff...
...and found out why it cost less. It looked and smelled like cat food! I tried doctoring it with many a condiment (lemon pepper, chopped olives, even Caesar salad dressing), only to get cat food with a hint of lemon pepper, chopped olives, or Caesar salad. I wasn't expecting much with my lemon and Lousiana hot sauce, but it worked great. I felt like an alchemist. I'd turned cat food into gold.

Hermit Crabs

When I was little we had pet hermit crabs: Edgar and Allan.
They were slow moving, mellow creatures. My brother and I spent hours building Lego houses and mazes for them to explore.
One day I made the mistake of holding Edgar in the palm of my hand. Guess what happened?

The Beach Storms Me

In 1999, I took SCUBA lessons. It seemed like a good idea- I liked snorkeling. I lived near the ocean. Why hadn't I done this years ago?
The first lessons (in the same pool I'd learned to swim, decades earlier) were easy. Then the day came. The day we'd venture into the ocean!
I couldn't wait. There'd be fish! Marine wildlife! The Redondo Canyon (an offshore fault I'd heard of since childhood)!
Problems started on the beach. The water is cold, so you have to wear a wetsuit. This makes you buoyant, so you have to strap on weights. Add fins and SCUBA gear and you're more encumbered than someone in a Mickey Mouse costume.
"Okay guys, " the teacher said, "Wade in until it's deep enough to swim. The go to the buoy"
I started in. The water was up to my knees when a wave slapped me sideways.
"Pull her out! Pull her out," the teacher screamed. His thug helper yanked me into deeper waters. The carcass of a shovel fish smacked my face.
Somehow, I made it to the buoy.
The water was cold, brown and cloudy. Maybe it was runoff from the storm drains. Or leftovers from the nearby sewage treatment plant. No fish, no invertebrates, not even sea weed. Just the chain of the buoy snaking down into darkness.
When the teacher and his helper got the rest of us weenies out to the buoy it was time to visit the ocean floor. Fifteen feet under it was darker, colder and cloudier. I kept drifting upside down. A white flounder zipped by. The teacher gestured towards a dark hazy area- apparently the Redondo Canyon.
We returned to the surface. Another girl forgot to inflate her buoyancy bladder, grabbed me and pulled me under. I strangled her hit the button to inflate it for her. A guy was throwing up loudly. (He'd warned us earlier that even floating in water made him seasick. Why he was paying for the opportunity to puke through a SCUBA regulator escapes me.)
The instructions for leaving the ocean sounded simple:
Swim to shore until it's shallow enough to stand, then walk out. If a wave knocks you over, crawl out.
I almost made it: two feet of water, one foot... Wham! A wave slammed me down. Time to crawl out...
...but the weights and equipment were too heavy. I couldn't lift myself!
"C'mon!" the teacher hollered from the shore. "Crawl out! ^&*(*()!! Crawl out! Crawl out!"
Every few seconds a new wave smashed over my head, than pulled back and sucked me deeper into the sand. I was terrified that I'd drown or be buried. The teacher seemed to be under the if-she-really-tried-she-could-get-herself-out fantasy.
Nonsense. I wanted out of there more than anything. I was trying desperately to push myself up. It wasn't working!
Disgusted with my "laziness," the teacher finally dragged me beyond the waves and, without the current, I was able to stand. It was only then that I discovered that, while I didn't have the strength to lift myself when weighed down, I was strong enough to have chewed the nubs off the mouth piece.

Cracker Jack!

My cartoon bird is named Cracker Jack, but picking the name wasn't easy.
So many good ones! Mervin, Merlin, Orville, Jenix, Fred, Quack, Mack, Norman, Mox...
Closest runner ups to Cracker Jack were Otto, Wally, Flippo, Preston and Spitball.
If you provided "Cracker Jack," please email me your address.
You'll soon be the owner of the goofiest, silliest prize I could find...

The Next Cartoon... ...and a Contest!

I've mentioned that I'm working on my next video
Above is a concept sketch of the female lead.
I like the look, but am concerned the hair will be hard to animate.

To make the animation work better, I'm blocking in the main moves first.
The result looks crude (especially with screen captures), but you may be able to guess that our hero (right) is unhappy to see this visitor. Details, better drawings and backgrounds come later.



Here's a better drawing of the hero.

...and here.
I need a name for him (The female bird is named Mary, and the maroon visitor pictured above is a bit character). His working name is "Pico" but it isn't sticking. A contest is in order!
I'm not sure what the prize is yet, but it will be something goofy...

Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?

I discovered the artwork/writing of Brian Fies* by accident years ago.
His latest graphic novel Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow.
It's delightful. It's about a boy and his dad. And science. And public optimism/cynicism towards the latter over the decades. Back in 1939 it was going to bring us wondrous things...!
The pictures are cute (and well staged!), the facts are interesting, and the attention to detail is astonishing. (There's even pulp comic book sections, each carefully crafted to look and read like comics from specific decades.)

Each time I look at it I find something new. Bravo, Brian!

*He's indirectly responsible for me illustrating this blog with cartoons. (My earliest posts are mostly photographs and/or snarky comments about stuff. Then, by chance, I caught some images from his blog where he'd drawn cartoons. I thought, I can sort of draw. Maybe I should try that...). So if you like Tail o' the Rat as it is today, thank Brian.

The Willies

Did you ever get "The Willies?"
Where you find a place so creepy that you can't stay?
Where were you when it happened?
It happened to me on The Big Island in Hawaii one summer.
I was in my teens, vacationing with my family. I wanted to see the Southern Cross (and nearby Alpha Centauri) for years, and knew they would be low in the southern sky at dusk.
The threes and shrubs of the resort blocked the lower parts of the sky, but I knew I'd have a good view from the huge lava field nearby.
The sun went down. As the sky darkened. I hiked to my observation post, delighted that I'd finally get to see parts of the sky I couldn't see at home. Alpha Centuri will be the brightest one I reminded myself and if you line it up with [the second brightest star] it'll point to the top of the...
Suddenly the lava field loomed before me. Hours earlier it'd looked like a sea of black rocks under a postcard-blue sky. Now it was blackness. Vast blackness. It was the creepy!
There was no time to search for famous stars or constellations. I got out of there!
My fear didn't make any sense. It wasn't like there were lava monsters or Jack the Hula Ripper on the loose...
...why was that lava field so spooky at night?

New 'Toon, New Rules

I've started my next animation. I've picked the song, and made reference keyframes for the lyrics and beat. Above are some trial "looks" for the protagonist.

I learned a lot from animating I'm So Tired.
Here's some commandments I'll apply to this cartoon:

I. Thou shalt block in major shapes and movements before futzing around with details.
For example, than once I did the lip sync first and then discovered the timing or position of the character needed to change. I'd apply the changes and find the lip sync was off. Or I'd fall in love with a single drawing, only to find it didn't really fit into the animation plans.

II. Thou shalt design an animation friendly character.

Shorpy, as I came to call the purple guy, wasn't designed well.*

Flat, no eyebrows (big mistake!) and a basic "I'm sitting on fire ants" expression. (Okay, he was so tired, but still...). His face expressions and movement were limited. He was at his best when he was morphing into other characters.


III. Thou shalt remember looping animation and use it.
Some time-consuming animation from I'm So Tired zips by like a train, never to be seen again. If I had any sense I would have made more of the animated symbols play in continuous loops.

IV. Thou shalt make the first thirty seconds more interesting
I'm So Tired starts out calm and later goes berserk. I fear some viewers never saw the crazier parts because they thought He's just rocking back and fourth and complaining! and hit the back button. Any good story teller knows you should hook 'em up front.

Of course, I'm open to any additional advice anyone can throw me.

*I'm not saying he's a piece of garbage, just that in retrospect he could have been constructed better.

Put it in the cart!

Grocery shopping splits my personality in two. On one side is penny-pinching, nutrition conscious Practical Namowal. The other side is Devil Namowal, the perpetual kid.
If they talked out loud, they'd sound like this.

Devil Namo: Ice Cream! Chocoloate ice cream with caramel! Put it in the cart!

Practical Namo: Like hell we will. That's fattening.

Devil Namo: Deep Dish Frozen Pizza! Put it in the cart!

Practical Namo: Are you kidding? That's over 600 calories per serving! Do you want to fit in your clothes or not?

Devil Namo: Ooooh! Root Beer! "Hand Crafted" Root Beer with "full bodied rich and creamy flavor!" And it's diet! Put it in the cart!

Practical Namo: You now better than to fall for hype. Geez! Put that down.

Devil Namo: Look! Vita-Whiz Diet Energy Drink! Vita-Whiz Diet Energy Drink! Put it in the cart!

Practical Namo: Were you dropped on your head? That's overpriced soda!

Devil Namo: but it has vitamins!

Practical Namo: Yeah, so does most food. Don't be an idiot.

Devil Namo: but it's fun to drink! Put it in the cart!

Practical Namo: Okay, okay. You win. It's expensive and stupid, but it is fun.

Funny Dresser Uppers

For a short time I had three candy-apple-red streaks in my hair.
I wasn't trying to make a statement or be hip. The hairdresser suggested it. I thought why not? It would be kinda funny.
I can't say I stood out. I live in Los Angeles. Many friends, neighbors and aquaintances are creative types. Goofy hair, clothes and jewlery aren't unheard of.
To really stand out you have to work at it. A few people do: Wacky hats, crazy clothes, nutso hair, maybe even a prop (non-dog pet on a leash, ukulale, rubber chicken). Brazen weirdness.
What's even weirder is how people react to them. It's binary. They're either admired or scoffed.

When admired, the Funny Dresser Upper is considered:

• original
• creative
• cute
• funny
• living by their own rules
• not caring what everyone thinks
• fun (a trip, a scream etc..)
  

When scorned, the Funny Dresser Upper is considered to be:

• trying to look original
  
• trying to be cute
• trying to be funny
• desperate for attention
• wanting to impress everyone (caring what everyone thinks)
• obnoxious (a freaking weirdo, a creep etc..)
  

I'm still trying to figure out the factor that sways these opinions. Is the admired Funny Dresser Upper more friendly or confident than the scorned Funny Dresser Upper? What sets them apart? I don't get it.

I'm So Tired

Here it is:
My first flash video:
"I'm so Tired" by the Beatles.
I wanted to do a Beatles song and picked this one because:

1. As far as I can tell, this one hasn't been animated before.
2. I like how the mood vacillates between lethargy and freaked out meltdowns.
3. It's only two minutes long.

I learned a lot about both Flash and animation as I put this together (mostly what not to next time!)

Special thanks to Sally Cruikshank for helping me out!

Who's Your Muse?

If I had a muse, she'd look a lot like this.
She doesn't inspire me with music or poetry.
"You're fooling around on the internet again!" she says. "You should be working on your Flash cartoon! Get to work!"

Who's your muse?

Paperbacks of Doom!

(Note: Some of this was originally posted as a comment to 10 Great Books for Traumatizing Children)

When I was growing up (late 70s early 80s,) I remember a series of cheap paperbacks, which, in retrospect, must have been created with Let’s get these kids reading with our gritty, tough stories in mind.
These included:

• The "True Ghost Story" featuring a ghost with a bleeding hole in his head (drawing helpfully included). We’re told in life he “sniffed glue”
• The "True Ghost Story" of basement haunted by the decomposing corpse ghost who'd been murdered by her husband, then cut up and buried under the floor bricks. Gruesome illustration included.
  
• The guy on the baseball team who brought cheer and joy, even when the team lost. Surprise! He was secretly sick. Then died.
• Little Jimmy is sick in the hospital. For Christmas he gets a dog and names it "Lucky." He seems to be getting better. Surprise! He dies a few weeks later.
  
• ”Cool Sed,” some pimp-esque lowlife who’s oh-so-cool. Then he gets shot. “Cool Sed is Dead.”

These books also introduced me to Lizzie Bordon, Kitty Genovese, the Hartford Circus Fire, and Hiroshima ("their skin turned black and fell off").

Real or fictional, characters in these books had it rough. Blood pooled, bones broke, diseases struck, animals attacked, ships sank, quicksand awaited...

...it wasn’t until years later that it occurred to me how violent and grim these books were, and how odd it was that they were aimed at kids. What were they thinking?

What ARE you?

"The thing that drives me really crazy," Wendy told us, "Is people are always asking me 'what ARE you'. It happens all the time!"
Wendy isn't from another planet. Her family comes from different parts of the world and people are curious about her "pedigree."
Aw big deal, I thought at first. She's getting offended about nothing. The things people get unglued over!
It did get me thinking. Why did it bother Wendy?
Later I ran into George, an old acquaintance. He seemed delighted to see me and acted sincerely interested in what I was up to. Dang, I thought He makes me feel totally accepted. Like a family member. In the club. Teammates.
I thought back to caveman times. You were either accepted as one of the tribe or were considered an outsider. One of them.
A subtext of the chat with George was "I accept you as my peer. You're one of us."
The subtext in "What ARE you" can be interpreted as "What is it about you that makes you not my peer? You're not one of us. " I can see how that would get old very quickly.
At least that's my theory.

More Flash Cartoon Preview

These goofballs only appear for a few frames each, but I thought they deserved more attention.

Steamboat Willie (Uncut Version)

The synchronized sound track (added after the animation,) of "Steamboat Willie" made Mickey Mouse a star.
You've probably seen it before, but have you seen all it? The version usually shown is a half minute shorter than the original. Gags involving udders and some animal abuse were removed, probably to comply with the family friendly image Disney acquired.
Even the censored version has Mickey Mouse doing mean things like swinging a cat by his tail and letting it fly into the wall. Later a parrot laughs at him ("Hope ya don't feel hurt big boy! Ha ha ha ha ha!"*) so what does Micky do? He knocks it overboard with a potato. Listen carefully and you can hear the parrot drowning as Micky repeats the "ha ha ha ha ha!" laugh.
Who Mickey was such a bastard?

*That's Walt Disney himself doing the parrot's voice. Mickey's too.

Bimbo's Initiation

Bimbo's Initiation (1931, Fleischer Studios) is one of my favorite all time cartoons.
It's remarkably wacky:
Bimbo, the cute little dog character, is yanked into a weird underworld. Hooded freaks from the "Mystic Order of the Hoopahoopa Hot Cha*" chant "Wanna be a member?" at him. He refuses, only to be teased and tortured through most of the cartoon.
Rooms flip over, trapdoors rise and sink, and sharp objects threaten. Our hero is jabbed, punched in the face, spanked, slammed through cement and laughed at...
...but things end happily.
It's a strange mix of cute and sinister. The first time you see it you'll never be sure what will happen next (except that it will be at Bimbo's expense!)
I'm guessing the plot was an excuse to string slapstick gags together, but it may accidentally hit a deeper chord. Myths from all over the globe send characters to the underworld...


Bimbo finds himself in a strange place...


In the upside down room. The blade about to cut him loose also stabbed him in the butt, then grew teeth and tried to bite him.


Guess what this rope is holding up?


I like the angle and the staging in this shot.


Bimbo often looks into the audience as if to say "Did you guys see that?!"




Bimbo has caught a glimpse of Betty Boop and wants more.


This part can be scene briefly in the movie version of The Twilight Zone.
The girl with no mouth watches it on television.



Yay! A happy ending.

For more stills from this cartoon, click here.

*not sure what they're really saying. Others have transcribed it as "Boom Boom a Latcha!" "Goom Gooma Hotcha!" and "Koo-Koo-Ma-Hatcha!"

Bat Crackers!

The strangest tongue lashing I ever got was because I was mean....
to a photograph...
...of a bat.
Nellie and I lived in the same dorm. She seemed nice, liked animals, and had lots of books about them in her room. One day I thumbed through her Field Guide to Mammals of North America.
The bat section caught me off guard. These were strange looking critters: beady eyed balls of fur with needle teeth. Ears and snouts that looked like alien leaves.
"Some of these look funny!" I giggled, holding up the book. "Check out this bat."
Nellie looked like I'd slapped her. She snatched the book away.
"How dare you make fun of him!" she hollered. "The bat can't help how he looks! What if you were that bat!? You shouldn't judge by looks, you know!"
I could understand her being upset if I'd joked about a person ("So-and-so looks funny, let's avoid her,") or if I'd said something like "And since I think bats look funny, I'm going to throw rocks at them."
Maybe I should have said "Look, lunatic. If this bat were in this room, hanging from your curtain rod, would he know I was 'judging' him? Even if he did know, why would he care? He's a bat! If he told all his bat buddies that humans looked strange, would you care?"
Instead I made some excuse for leaving.

Cirque du Squirreleil

Lawyer Squirrel has hung up his practice. He's Acrobat Squirrel now.
It all started when I put a rat baffle on my bird feeder pole. I knew it wouldn't stop squirrels.
Sure enough, within a day one of them was able to reach the feeders from above, with a daredevil leap from the roof. I don't know why they go the trouble, since they have their own feeder a few feet off the ground. Maybe they like a challenge.

The Food Court

My yard is tiny, but I crammed in some birdfeeders.
From left to right there's

• A hummingbird feeder
• Thistle Sock
• Suet feeder
• Nesting material ball
• Big Fancy Expensive Thistle Feeder (the sock is still more popular)
• All purpose feeder (nuts, sunflower seeds etc..)

Mostly I get house finches, house sparrows and jays. Recently I've been getting goldfinches.

The squirrel has his own feeder. It's a little box of peanuts. He has to lift the lid to get them.

There's a crow who shakes me down for handouts too...

...and a mockingbird who chases him off.

On Saturday I got off work early and snuck into the yard, eager to see if I'd catch any new species feeding at that time of day...

...and found Jumbo Super Rat chomping away!
Now I sprinkle the feeder with ground hot pepper to keep him away from it.

I Go See the Cracks Again: Part Four

As I watched the cartoon over and over and sketched the characters, someone else entered the coffee shop. It was my old pal Rice*, whom I hadn't seen in years.
"Rice?" I called out. "Hey, Rice!"
The barista probably thought I was odd already, and now I was calling an Asian customer "Rice."
"This is my old friend, Rice," I told Jon. "We went to art school together. Rice, this is my pal Jon. We..."
Well this was going to be hard to explain. We both have an insane interest in an obscure cartoon? He drove out of his way between family gatherings to let me see it? I asked Rice if he'd seen "the Sesame Street cartoon where cracks came to life". He hadn't.
"I'll explain later," I told him.
Soon it was time to go. Rice had a bus to catch, and Jon and I had plans in opposite directions. If you're reading this, thanks Jon!

Some details about the cartoon:

• It doesn't look like work from any big studio. I suspect it was either made by a small studio or an independent project, perhaps by a professional artist or cartoonist who dabbled in animation.
• It's narrated (and partially sang) by a woman with a sweet Blossom Dearie-like voice.
• The girl (whom I should have taken more time to sketch) is tall and pretty with a dark complexion. Her shirt (sweater?) is light pink, her pants dark green. Her feet are tiny. When she returns to her room she walks backward. Was this a whimsical touch? Or was the creator trying to save money by filming the walk cycle backwards?
• The Camel Crack looks like a young child's drawing, with a semicircle for a body, a simple head/neck combo and long stick legs. He could easily have been Crack Turtle, Crack Horse, or Crack Brontosaurus. Crack Monkey and Crack Hen, while still line drawings, are more realistic.
• Crack Master (the real one, not my reinterpretation) looks a lot like real cracks when he first appears. It wouldn't surprise me if he was based on actual cracks that the artist saw, who then thought Ya know, if I put eyes there and made that part his mouth...
• Will it be seen again? Whomever gave it to Jon doesn't want it seen (we don't know why.) There's little chance he/she/they will post it themselves. Then again, my friend Sally, who's done animation for Sesame Street, says "The Street" buys the rights to show the cartoons, so they might have the final say. Maybe, just maybe, we'll see it someday in an official Sesame Street "Old School" dvd.

Just added (May 19, 2012)
A reader asked me what the other characters looked like, so I added this sketch.  They're not exact duplicates, but this is more or less what the Girl, Camel Crack, Crack Monkey and Crack Hen look like.

*That's really what he calls himself.

I Go See the Cracks Part Three:

I knew my battery was getting clunky, but I couldn't believe it would betray me like this.
Jon had brought a portable dvd player as backup, but this too needed an outlet. And there weren't any.
I asked the gal behind the counter where the plugs where. She pointed to the ceiling, and even provided a step ladder so the crazy cartoon people could plug in and watch the show.
The clip had no credits and in fact started with a few seconds of Ernie before fading into the cartoon.
There they were! The girl, Camel Crack, Crack Hen, Crack Monkey... hey, this was kinda cute.
Then came the the famous part. They friends walk "to where they'd never been..." The camera pans right "and in corner found a giant crack!" a shrill flutelike note sounds and we're facing him. Crack Monster!

Before I saw this I'd convinced myself he couldn't have been that frightening. Surly I'd been freaked out by something silly or benign. Not the case. Crack Monster (or, as he calls himself, "Crack Master") is startlingly creepy. He's cubist malevolence, with beady, mismatched eyes, a snarly cranky mouth, with cracks crossing his face and hanging from him like roots. Yeech. Good heavens, no wonder I'd been freaked.
And it gets worse! He "tries to make himself look very big and mean," growing more angry and qrotesque...

The narration tells us "then the wall plaster crumbled to the floor...," whereupon his features droop and melt off like something from a scary movie.
Creepy!
I watched it over and over and over. (Wow! It was really him!)
Jon claimed he'd shown it to a relative about our age who'd forgotten it until until now. She started crying! Startled by her reaction, she actually studied it frame by frame, convinced a that a subliminal horrors lurked somewhere. I think the explanation is more simple:
It's 1975. You're a little kid watching t.v. A crooked, scary face shows up, acts mean, gets scarier, then melts! You flip out.

Click here for Part Four.
Note- these pictures aren't from the cartoon. I sketched them. They're not exact replicas, and I don't think I've quite captured the creepyness of the original. Someone was a genius. I wish I knew more about them.

I Go See the Cracks Again: Part Two

We shook hands.
"You really showed up," I said. "Part of me didn't expect anyone to drive out of the way to show a cartoon to a stranger."
"Now do you think I have it?" he said, as I set up my laptop.
"I think so"
"By what percentage are you sure?"
I answered about ninety six percent now that he was here, then came the questions:
"Can you tell me where it's from? What studio? Who made it?"
He didn't know. (After he'd signed faxed paperwork promising it wouldn't post it anywhere, it had shown up in his mailbox- one of the barmy sounding details that made people question his story.)
I put the dvd in my laptop. A plain menu popped up. A lone thumbnail image showed something I hadn't seen in over three decades.
"It's him!" I said, like a crazy kid. "It's really him!"
Then something else popped up. The low battery warning on my laptop. I looked around. There were absolutely no outlets. Would I be able to watch the cartoon before my battery died?
Click here for Part Three...

I Go See the Cracks Again: Part One

You're crazy, I told myself, sitting alone in the coffee house. This is ridiculous....
It was 7:29 am, Sunday morning. It was here that Jon and I agreed to meet so he could show me his copy of the so-called "Crack Monster"cartoon: a long lost clip from Sesame Street that only aired a few times, yet managed to thoroughly freak out kids who saw it.
The internet buzz from those who did see it was consistently "Oh, that terrified me... ...never forgot it... ...where can I see it again!?"
Months, then years passed...
Then, Jon, got a copy! At least that's what he said.
He also said that he was forbidden to post it. No video, no pictures, no sound. The story of how he got is was strange too. Fellow searchers got suspicious. Sure he said he had it, but did he really have it?
Months ago he promised that he'd show it to me the next time he was in town.
Sure, I thought. A stranger is going to go out of his way to meet you and show you a cartoon. ..
Then the emails came. He was visiting family in Los Angeles and "bringing his crack friends" with him. We'd meet at 7:30 a.m. Sunday morning at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf...
How long should I wait?, I thought, as I sketched, glancing up at the empty parking lot every few minutes. This has to be some kind of prank...
Then a tall man came in with a bag.
In the bag there was a dvd...

Click here for Part Two

The Crack that Roared

Most people never saw the Sesame Street cartoon where cracks on the wall come to life:

Those of us who did see it as kids had remarkably similar reactions:

• "Crack Master," the mean crack, terrified us!
• We've never forgot the cartoon, and now would absolutely love to see it again.
  

Various comments about the clip:

"...not nearly as scary as the cartoon with the talking crack in the wall. That still haunts me." -Ann Arbor, Michigan1

"... that **** cartoon with the crack in the wall that came to life (btw, i *REALLY* want to see that so if anyone has it, please let me know!)"-Illinois2

"--One I have NEVER forgotten is the 'crack' video... ...I remember both anticipating and dreading the possibility of watching it every time SS came on. if anybody [finds it], POST POST POST!!!"3

"Good God, I have periodically searched for "crack, camel, master crack" for years .... ...This has to exist somewhere. God, I can't imagine how normal I might have been if I hadn't been exposed to [it]as a 3 year old?"4

"This is so strange. I thought I was alone in how this one little cartoon freaked me out and has stayed with me ever since... ...Anyway, if anyone does find it, please please share with the rest of us so we can finally close this chapter."5

" I was Googling around and found your reference to the Sesame Street "crack" cartoon, and I was wondering if you have ever found it? I am SO very relieved to see that it either really existed, or we all have some kind of mass psychosis! Seriously, I have been looking for this clip forever, because it scared me so much as a kid and I need closure! :)"
(email to me)

"...a child looking up at the cracks in the ceiling and spotting various animals. Suddenly... a horrible face appears in the wall and says something like 'I am Crack Master!' - But just then the wall plaster crumbled to the floor... 'He'd destroyed himself, being mean.' Yeeergh, that still gives me the shivers."- United Kingdom 6

"When I was a kid, there was an animated Sesame Street vignette that absolutely scared the living crap out of me. [It featured] a big evil-looking face composed of cracks behind some door. I'd run out of the room when it came on. I was terrified of cracks until I was about twelve. I'd pay good money to see this vignette today and see what scared me so much..."7

"When I was a kid, there was an animated skit that used to have me screaming and running from the TV... ... It was about this girl sitting in her room on a rainy day. She has a whole bunch of cracks on the walls in her room (I guess she had plaster walls). As she's sitting there, her imagination starts to go wild, and she sees the cracks form into different shapes, mostly animal shapes, and they start to come to life. There's a camel, and a monkey...
...and behind it is a horrible looking splinter crack monster in the plaster with a really scary face! ...It claims that it is the crack master... ...I remember when the skit started, I was like "Oh no!" And started to scream and then when the face appeared I became hysterical! I had horrible re-occurring nightmares based on it for the entire time it was on the show. I've been trying to find it ..." -Iowa x

An impressive legacy for a cartoon that aired less than a dozen times in the late 1970s and then vanished*.

Click here to find out how I finally saw it again.

*It's not on any dvd that's for sale. I've never seen it mentioned in books or articles about animation. It's not on the internet in any form (and probably never will be.) I'd buy it in a minute if it was legitimately for sale. Production art too!

Phantasia at the Old Towne Mall

If you scaled down Disneyland's Main Street U.S.A. and added a low ceiling, you'd have the long-vanished Old Towne Mall. I spent a lot of time there when I was little. Instead of the staples of most 1970s malls (the organ store, the fashion shops, the record store etc...) it had gift and hobby shops, a double decker carousel and two dark rides.
The dark rides were The Castle* and Phantasia. The former was a spookhouse ride ( which I rode twice, with my eyes shut). Phantasia was kid friendly. A chairlift took you through fairy tale scenes. The climax was a glowing green spinning tunnel. People who were older at the time remember the ride as "cheesy" and "cheap." My second-grade self thought otherwise. It was a ride! It took you into another world!
I'm not sure what went wrong. Maybe bored teenagers broke things. Maybe the mall (which had trouble staying afloat) couldn't afford to maintain it. Possibly both. Phantasia began to fall apart.
I was too little to understand why anyone could neglect or damage a ride. I was still in the It's another world! mode....
...and my other world was getting creepy! Why was it falling apart? Why was the main character in the scene slumped over his window like he was dead? It spooked me. I couldn't get the "dead guy" out of my head for a long time.

*Possibly Dracula's Castle or Count Dracula's Castle.

More Flash Preview

Other people go out to lunch, I stay in and work on my flash cartoon for forty minutes. I can't believe a two minute cartoon can take so long to crank out. From the impatient look on the tomato guy, he can't believe it either.

It's a Bird!

As an animation fiend, I can't believe I've never seen or heard of this before. It was done in the 1930s by cartoonist/comedian Charles Bowers. I'm impressed!

Cartoon Update

Still working on that blankety-blank cartoon in my spare time. My real job is encroaching into weekends and evenings, so I work on the 'toon on my lunch break.
It took me longer than I'd like to admit to get the purple guy to reach up and grab his horns. Early attempts looked like he was being electrocuted. A lot of the time I can get away with animating jointed symbols but here I had to redraw his wings/arms/hands for each frame to get the look I wanted.
Pictured above is a frame from that part.
I just realized, that, out of context, it'd be harder to find a blander, more clinched pose. Believe me, he doesn't spend most of the cartoon staring at the camera with his hands in the air.

Deloris

Everyone has some details about themselves that make them different. Maybe they're allergic to wheat and soy. Maybe they know someone famous. Maybe they survived smallpox when they were five. Some people bring these tidbits up once or twice. Others find excuses to cram them into any conversation:

• "Your kid has a fever? That's nothing. I had smallpox when I was five...!"

• "You went to Disneyworld when you were five? Heck. WhenIwas five, I had smallpox!
• "You're worried that the six inch gash over your eye will leave a scar? Hell, when I was little I had smallpox and my parents were totally worried I'd end up spotted like a leopard but I only got a few pockmarks near my butt. Wanna see 'em?"
  

Deloris didn't have smallpox. She did have diabetes. She was a master at working it into any conversation. Had we watched Neil Armstrong land on the moon together, she'd probably interrupt the "One small step for a man," speech with "If I went to the moon I'd have to bring insulin with me because I could die if I didn't have it."
Other people I knew with the same condition were discrete. They might mention it once or twice, but it wasn't something the babbled on and on about. Deloris was different. Not only did she talk about it, she made sure she got her daily fix in front of as many people as possible. Heaven forbid she shoot up in another room most people did. Anyone who questioned her etiquette got a lecture about how "insensitive" they were to her plight.
She complained about other symptoms too. This hurt. That hurt. She often carried a book of symptoms with her so she could read up on what might be wrong with her. A "maybe I have [condition X] or [disease Y] because [body part z] is bothering me!" statement would follow.
It was ridiculous. It was annoying. Her You should feel sorry for me act slowly coaxed my evil side to speak up. "I don't care what's wrong with you and I don't want to hear about it any more." I blurted.
"You're insensitive!" she huffed.