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"Merry Christmas"

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Merry Christmas, with this appropriately-titled story from 1961's Donald Duck Merry Christmas! Although, again, this is, like the last one, really more just the name of the book it appeared in than the title of the story per se. Who cares! Because, yes, a realChristmas miracle, behold: a genuinely good story! Seriously! The sort of thing you hope to find when reading these old Western things but rarely do.  I mean, no, not perfect, perhaps not likely to change your life, but one about which I can say that, with very few qualifications, I like it. It's well-written and executed and it very much deserves to be reprinted. So there! I have the feeling that, as so often with stories that I actually like, I'll have less to say about this than some others. But that's okay, hopefully! Silence is golden.  Well, obviously not "silence," as such.  But...oh, come ON.  Let's just GO.


Donald can't sing: it's a fairly normal-looking kind of thing to start with; it's fine, but it probably doesn't make you think it's going to be anything special.


Really, it seems like an extremely normal sort of plot, and I guess it is, really. But bide a while. I do like the glee club's interest in Christmas music.


Say what you will, but "like a rusty gate echoing through a drainpipe" is a more colorful simile than you'd typically find in a story like this.


Timbuktu is an ancient city with a lot of history, and I do think it would be an interesting place to visit.  But...would it really ever have been such a host tourist destination?  Couldn't these guys have found somewhere more enticing to offer?


I really like Donald's emotional reaction in this story. They're atypical yet real-feeling, to me. Look how he decorates the tree with a fatalistic attitude that nonetheless doesn't involve lashing out at anyone. Why would we think Scrooge could help, exactly? Is it just because, being old, he's presumed to have greater perspective? Difficult to say.


But the story doesn't really pick up until these guys appear. Sure, the demon-and-angel-on-your-shoulders thing is a hoary old cliche, but it's handled with a lot of panache and vigor here, making for some genuinely entertaining stuff. This story has a kind of energy that, for my money, we really haven't seen elsewhere.


You probably don't have to think too hard to realize what the result of this shock was. The nagging question I have is: have I seen this plot device in another duck story? I mean, I'm sure I haven't seen it in a plot that's anything like this, but "Donald is bad at singing, becomes good at singing" seems familiar. Or, I suppose, I could just be thinking of a more generic "Donald is bad at X, becomes good at X." Whatever!


If you have a criticism of this story, it could be that Donald is portrayed as too nice. But once again, this doesn't bother me. I think it's within normal parameters for the character, albeit a bit of an outlier, and it's just appealingly, well, nice.


I like to picture the devil with a thick New York accent. It's really a lot of fun.


And now, this: for my money, "Do you think the big stars work for peanuts, Gertrude?" is the best line in any of these things, even if I'm not sure why "Gertrude" specifically.  Great stuff.

But who wrote it? you wonder. Well, maybe you don't. BUT I'LL TELL YOU ANYWAY. Inducks is silent as to the authorship, but it's definitely Bob Gregory. The man was inconsistent, sure, but when he was on, he was able to write stories of a caliber that his fellow non-Barkses simply couldn't, and this totally feels like his style. The only other possible answer is Don Christensen, but he actually did very few duck stories. Anyway, Gregory had written the Barks-drawn "Christmas in Duckburg" and "Christmas Cha Cha" in 1958 and 59 respectively, so it makes sense that he'd've been given another one to do (having been passed over with 1960's "Tick Tripe Tip." And a good job he does, too. My only regret is that I missed this when I was doing A VERY BOB GREGORY CHRISTMAS a few years ago.  Or maybe not, since now I can go out on a high point this year.  It's all good.


Scrooge is fine here. Of course, he's not being asked for money, so he doesn't have any reason to freak out, but he still idly muses about creating this prize.


I just love everyone spontaneously bursting into song 'cause why the hell NOT? It's just HELLA festive.


Awww. Of course, we are compelled to note that, if we take this logic seriously, he's gonna foreclose on them as soon as the holiday's over, but let's not think that far. Here, have Maddy Prior singing "I Saw Three Ships." One of my Christmas favorites.


Well...the angel kind of has a point, and yet it's a thorny philosophical question: some people are just naturally better at some things than others. Does that mean...what does that mean? Of course, the question is kind of short-circuited by cartoonish situations like this one. This story handles the question better than The Incredibles, I'll say that for it.


I mean, it's still a non-Barks Western story, and it's still gonna have some nonsensical stuff in it, so I'm forced to point out that there's nothing illegal or unethical about the Beagles entering this contest. As far as I'm able to infer, the idea has to be that they're wanted fugitives and therefore can't be doing law-abiding things like entering singing contests. But it's kind of dumb however you slice it.


Once again, you could easily think that Donald is too good here, and behaving like kind of a tool. And once again, I would reply that I just. Don't. Care.


Donald teaching Scrooge to sing is fun.  Note that in "The Christmas Cha Cha," he likewise wants to learn a skill at the last minute so he can compete in a performing arts contest.


The only actually criminal activity the Beagles engage in the whole thing. If they hadn't made this ill-advised move, they'd totally be able to maintain the moral high ground when they get dragged away from the contest. But their inner natures just can't help coming out. Gotta love Scrooge's acquiescence: "they insist that we do nothing! Hurry! Let's do nothing!"


Yeah, the nerve of them, thinking they can enter the singing contest just because they can sing. I feel like Gregory ought to have thought of a way to fill the story out that didn't involve this dopey subplot.


Good lord, man, he's been thrashing around for the better part of a full day? That's...probably a bit more unpleasant that the story wanted to get, really.


GO AHEAD and tell me this isn't great! JUST TRY IT! I need a good contemptuous laugh! Rargh!


Anyway, they fall down the stairs so, yeah. Hurrah. One might think they'd know their own safehouse(?) better than that, but apparently not, to their detriment.


Again, I love Donald running in singing. But then the inevitable happens. Ah well, it was fun while it lasted...


But even so, everyone's basically cool with it; not the sort of sour ending you might expect from "character loses special ability." I like it. Hurrah!

SO ANYWAY. This entry turned out to be long enough, but I won't claim it's the most insightful; a li'l too "I liked this, I liked that"-heavy. Nonetheless! I hope you have enjoyed this crash course in Western Christmas! Try to keep the spirit of Western alive in your heart the whole year 'round! Or something.

"The Lemming with the Locket"

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Okay, I don't like having the Christmas thing just sitting there at the top of the page indefinitely, so here's this.  Oh yeah, happy 2019 and stuff.  Well, here's this in any case, but let's say here's this because of that.


ONE HALF OF HIS ENTIRE FORTUNE! GOOD LORD! I feel like there ought to be, I don't know, repercussions from this. Like, it seems like a bit flippin' deal. I know you have to just sort of let it wash over you, but WOW. Somehow, it never really struck me when reading this story, but HALF HIS FORTUNE. For a set-up you'll never see again after this story! Bad investment, Scroogie! Or such is my opinion.


I think I talked about this a little re the Ducktales episode based on this story, but it does seem kind of hilariously narcissistic of him to have a statue of himself here. Still, when you think about it, you have to ask yourself: okay, but what else could it be a statue of? Yes, in the cartoon it's Goldie, which Rosa himself would also have done, but obviously it can't be that in a Barks story, nor any other kind of call-back. So...what are you left with? I guess it could be some sort of McDuck ancestor or whatnot (whom Rosa would later have immortalized), or maybe a bit of civic pride with Cornelius Coot, but beyond that, I dunno, man. It seems like it really IS pretty slim pickings. Incidentally, look how this statue was colored in Disney's republication:


I mean...I suppose there's nothing wrong, in theory, with the statue being colored, but it looks awfully weird to me, like some kind of action figure. And why is it wearing a blue hat? Where does thatcome from?


The fact that Donald and HDL like this imported cheese is really just a mechanism to drive the plot along, and yet it's also delightful in itself. Do you usually picture them as being, like, gourmands? Probably not, but here we are. There's also just something about that old-fashioned-sounding "we like so well." Good stuff.


Seems a little eccentric for them to just dump a rodent on Scrooge's desk, but I guess it makes sense, at least in theory. I also like that Scrooge doesn't actually have an answer beyond freaking out.  Sure, he can be depicted differently in different stories by different writers and there's nothing wrong with that, but I find an omnicompetent Scrooge kinda boring.

One thing that always dissatisfies me a little about this story: that title. "The Lemming with the Locket." It is a good title. I approve. AND YET, we don't actually find out that it's a lemming we're dealing with until halfway through, or we wouldn't if the title didn't give it away. It just seems like it oughtn't to be thus. I don't know what solution there could be, though.


It's not anything all that amazing as set-ups go; anyone could do it, or something like it. But somehow--and this is one of those things where it's hard to articulate what it is--it's better when Barks does it. It may be silly, but it still feels weighty and consequential, somehow.


And now, to think waytoo hard about this. I mean, okay, fishing schooners go everywhere. Fine. But you gotta wonder about that "Tokyo or Casablanca." Okay, so take it as a given that Duckburg is on the west coast. Japan would be a straight, if long, shot. Morocco, not so much. There are a bunch of big ol' land masses in the way. And how does he know where to go? Is it just, AH HA, FISH! Let's follow them! And sometimes they lead to relatively straightforward destinations, and sometimes they require brutally complicated, epic sea voyages to get there? And what do these destinations even mean? Do the fish they find, like, lead them to breeding grounds, that may be in the north Pacific and may be in the midAtlantic there's no way to tell? I mean okay, maybe they're in communication by radio, so it's not a matter of finding fish, just of learning where they are and going there. But still. Seems like a logistical nightmare to me.


Okay, obviously I'm skipping ahead. You know this story; you don't need me to cover it beat for beat. So now we're in Norway! Good for us. And, indifferent coloring notwithstanding, that is some NICE scenery. Gives Rota a run for his money, no question.


It's silly, but I like this, and I like Scrooge's reaction to it. That is all.


You really expect a "rat"--or any animal--to just scurry into the middle of buncha dudes with nets? I think this scheme needs rethinking, and I must take exception to the notion that it's in any way "smart."


...Carl. You know I love you, but here's a hard truth: your Nordic children are terrifying. They look like dolls that have come to life to murder you in your sleep. Crikey.


Nice. Reminds me of the part in Horton Hears a Who where the fascist vulture drops the flower in the giant flower field.

The question of where this idea of suicidal lemmings came from is an interesting one. This story was released years before the award-winning Disney documentary in which they slaughtered thousands of them to trick their audience, and GOOD GOD what kind of sociopaths WERE these people? The mind boggles. But anyway, I think people have always had weird ideas about them, and this is an excuse to quote one of my favorite things ever, from the Wikipedia article:

In the 1530s, geographer Zeigler of Strasbourg proposed the theory that the creatures fell out of the sky during stormy weather and then died suddenly when the grass grew in spring. This description was contradicted by natural historian Ole Worm, who accepted that lemmings could fall out of the sky, but claimed that they had been brought over by the wind rather than created by spontaneous generation.

Science back in the day was hella weird.


I dig the kids' sticktoitiveness in the face of Scrooge's whining. I know it's totally unfair and uncalled-for and probably nonsensical to make this comparison, but I wish Rosa's Scrooge had sometimes acted like this.


I like how, in spite of the fact that this is kinda gruesome when you think about it, the story sorta skims over that with "none ever goes back to the mountains," the reasons for this remaining unexplained. I also really like the ducks' defiance and its total futility.


Bye! Welp, that's that. I just like this picture. Anyway, Scrooge is poor now, so I guess we're done here.


Well, maybe not. Gotta say, "there's only ONE lemming smart enough..." is a pretty massive logical leap. How do YOU know? What's your sample size? Maybe ALL lemmings are that smart, djaever think of that? Hmm.


I dunno, you can't complain too much, given how much you're supposed to love that cheese. But was Scrooge paying them thirty cents an hour here? I certainly hope they weren't working for free, entertaining as it may have been. I actually think this is one of Barks' better endings. Whereas the ending to this blog entry is...not my best work.

"Donald's Pet Service"

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So, no joke: I actually wasplanning on writing this entry--I had the panels to use all chosen and everything--when friend-of-the-blog Debbie Anne posted a panel from it on facebook, and said that she didn't remember the story itself. So, that gave me an incentive to get it done.


The story here is pretty standard stuff: Donald starts this new enterprise that provides opportunities for misadventures to occur. And then...they do. But it's Barks, so you can be pretty sure it'll be worth reading anyway.

As we like to do, let's take a survey of the art in Donald's house. First, that odd thing in the upper right of the first panel, that looks like it might be some kind of photo negative. Are those minarets? Is this a cityscape from some Islamic country? Or are they just smokestacks? Interesting choice in any event. And then let's not overlook the other picture, with its unsettling cluster of duck heads that may or may not be silently passing judgment on the characters. Sometimes I feel like the Duck house would be a creepy place to live.

Finally, note that this originally appeared in WDC 200. Barks celebrated the occasion by doing...the usual thing. And why not? I don't know what that 575 next to the 200 in the bottom of the last panel signifies.


We begin, as well we should, with the most "normal" item on the list, A Large Dog. THIRTY POUNDS OF DOG FOOD. For that, I'm expecting some sort of Clifford-esque monstrosity.


Yup, it's a pretty big dog. BUUUUT...for comparison purposes, my parents have two dogs. They're nothing like the one here, but they're large-ish beasts. Maybe half the size of this unnamed (unless "Puppy" is meant to be its name) animal. And they each get three cups of dog food a day (plus miscellaneous biscuits). Whereas, if the internet can be trusted, thirty pounds would be about sixty cups. You thought you'd get away with this flagrant error, Barks?!? Not while I'm on the case!


Anyway, the main thing Louie suffers here (yes, it's Louie; as you know, the hat colors had not been standardized at this time) is a log falling on him. He really shouldn't complain. It seems like pretty minor stuff in the long or short or medium run.


Next one is these Hummingbirds of Doom. I've long had this idea for a horror movie where woodpeckers develop a taste for HUMAN BRAINS and start pecking on people's heads instead of wood. So, you know. Okay, it's silly, but I feel this is sillier still; hummingbirds are such fragile little creatures that this idea comes off as even goofier. Sad to say, I think the real-world result of this ZOW behavior would be...all of them collapsing, dead. Not a very edifying conclusion for the episode, admittedly.


And for this one, of course, there's no danger at all, just annoyance. But man, what annoyance. Because, I mean, if there are flies there are flies, but often there simply AREN'T, and then what do you do? Maybe these people maintain a fly-heavy environment, but in that case you'd expect him to be able to find more.


"Who, I suspect, is a horse." There's that odd Barks diction popping up again. This is one thing about Barks that no one would imitate, but you see it all the time. Is it part of his inimitable charm, or is he great in spite of it? Difficult to say.


...but I do have to say, that bottom right panel is one of Donald's most dickish moments. The kid just saved you shitloads of work; you could at least display a little gratitude? Maybe?


"Who, no doubt, is a cat." There it is again! The sort of thing you'd see more often in writing than you would in speech. Is there some cultural reason that I don't get why you'd automatically assume that "Annie" would be a cat's name?


You know...when I was in Borneo (god, this makes me sound so much more cosmopolitan than I actually am), we went on a night hike in the jungle, and we came across some fire ants doing their thing--marching en masse across the path--and the guide hurried us by, because it would've been possibly dangerous and certainly unpleasant to get up close and personal with them. But Barks seems to have this idea that all kinds of ants will fuck your shit up--see the earlier story now known as "Donald Duck Rants About Ants." They're not that dangerous, dude! Or dangerous at all.


...and, I mean, if the only problem is that they tickle... really, now. What would it be like to have an anteater as a pet? Well, it's probably not a good idea, as these things so rarely are. This gal's kinda cute, though, I suppose.


Now we get to the somewhat terrifying part. That is some ominous foreshadowing right there.


Yay! This image is cool, yet kind of alarming. I like. But--I mean, I don't want to get too graphic here, but it's hard not to--if they're being fed whole friggin' goats, isn't the pool going to quickly become a horrific mess of blood and bone fragments? Well, I guess maybe not if they're prepared properly. But I still can't help but think that it would need VERY regular cleaning.


For no particular reason, here we have two nephews being clumsy. It does kind of crack me up.


Well, in fairness, now that you know what you're up against, it shouldn't be as bad. You can prepare for at least some of the stuff, and as long as you're careful, most of the animals shouldn't be a problem. But granted, Donald is surely the Most Dangerous Game here. Gripe! Gripe! Gripe! indeed.

Ten Years of Duck Comics Revue

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I know I haven't been posting much lately. You know how it goes. Also, it "goes" especially right now, what with me having recently gotten a teaching job in China, and been rather stressed out lately about this that and the other. Still, I did not let this anniversary go by unremarked, notwithstanding the fact that, as I've noted more than once, I actually started writing about ducks on my regular blog somewhat before I started this one (I believe this post is where it all started--it's sort of surprising to me that it took me less than a month to decided to devote a whole blog to it), but...still. Here we are. That's a dang long time. And, I mean, I'm not planning on giving it up, even if I'm becoming a bit more sporadic. It's still fun to write about anthropomorphic waterfowl now and again.

So we're going to do something a little bit special on this anniversary: I may regret this, but here it is: I'll write about whatever stories the first five commenters tell me about. Can't guarantee a timeframe, but I'll do my best. And if you choose something super-obscure that I can't call to hand, I will laugh at you (but whom am I kidding, you're all just going to choose Barks and Rosa. Prove me wrong!). Void where prohibited; prohibited where void.

"The Last Voyage of Ringtail Van Dukke"

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Okay! Time to talk about a fellow you may know called Ringtail! Or, you may not. But you probably do! What am I even saying? I don't know. I'm starting here because, let's face it, it's easy. Here's an easily-accessible story that I've read a few times before and is also kind of short. This had actually been on my radar to write about for some time, but obviously, I never did. Was that because I couldn't really come up with enough worthwhile to say about it? Well, we'll do our best here and now.


Well, you know. Here's how it starts. The most important thing to note off the bat is that, while this is drawn by Ben Verhagen, it's a Ben Verhagen who had learned how not to make his ducklings look cross-eyed all the time, thankfully. So we can enjoy the good aspects of his art while not having to deal with the worst. Hurrah!

The "omg the money bin is low" thing may not excite you, but the idea that there's an old door to an old room down there is pretty interesting, even if it seems kind of pointless to just stick records down there, as opposed to something REALLY special. But: you DID TOO know there were pirates in the family! "Back to Long Ago!""Night of the Saracen!" Others that I'm forgetting! Come on, man!


We can probably all agree: the past stuff here is the best part of the story. And not just because of the awesome art, although it is pretty awesome, as you can see from that ship on the bottom right. A lot of this stuff reminds me of the best of Rota, which is definitely saying something.


I also just like how blatantly murderous these pirates are. It's "just" a Disney comic, so it's the sort of thing that one might perceive as less violent than it actually is, but man, Ringtail & Co kill a LOT of people. Go on, then, tell me how that guy walking the plank is not imminently dead. The fact that he has a look of goofy, cartoonish fear does not obviate this. I don't know; it's just fun to see a Disney comic really cut loose every now and then. All due credit to writer Evert Geradts, but probably even more so to Verhagen. It's easy to imagine how this could have significantly less impact in the hands of a less gung-ho artist.


And on that note, clearly, the murdernephews are the best thing here. I feel like it's something that under other circumstances I might complain about--them being so totally egregiously out-of-character as they are--but I can't not love it. They are somehow lovable in their bloodthirstiness. What do you think their body count is? Certainly not trivial, I would say. But racked up with such joie de vivre.


You know, this points to a serious issue of ex-cons unable to find legitimate work, causing the recidivism rate to skyrocket. Though I will say, maybe it would've been a good idea to not wear your pirate costumes to job interviews? That's a useful tip for jobseekers everywhere.

Just re Ringtail's pegleg, here's an interesting thing I read about peglegs--I don't knowif it's true, but it certainly sounds logical: why do you think they're associated with sailors and pirates as opposed to soldiers or highwaymen or any land-dwellers? It's because with the preponderance of saltwater to disinfect wounds, the seafarers would be much less likely to die of infections upon amputation. So there you go.


I will definitely talk more about this later, but this "I WILL NEVER REST UNTIL I RESTORE YOUR MONEY" stuff reeeeaally rubs me the wrong way. The story certainly isn't flawless.


Anyway. Beagle pirates. The usual thing. Though granted, as Beagles go, they seem fairly chill.


And I do love the fact that the murdernephews are so keen to torture them. The idea that, sure, they'll be able to overpower the Beagles, why not, is not something you see often, or really ever, but I don't think they're wrong. And, indeed...


Seriously, I love how obvious it is that the Beagles are taking the worst of this. Thump! Biff! Whack!


So...AS I WAS SAYING. It's cool to be a cursed pirate damned to eternally sail the seven seas?  That, I approve of.  Try it, kids!  The idea of being thus cursed because you're obsessed with the idea that you have to be in servitude to some rich fucker? Sorry, Ringtail. Lamest Cursed Pirate Ever.


What happens to the murdernephews? I certainly hope they're not forced to adopt a lifestyle which doesn't allow them to engage in their one true passion, murder. That would just be brutal.


Anyway, that was just the first part of the story, and the shorter one. We go into the present, and I'm sorry to say that I find this part significantly less interesting. I mean, I like to see them having fun here, sure, but...


And, I mean, obviously the art is strong throughout.


Well...did I say "throughout?"Mostly throughout. I feel ungracious complaining after Verhagen took the trouble to get the eyes basically right, but those lamprey-like mouths? Not a good look for anyone.


So I almost don't want to talk about this, given how uninteresting I find it, but there's this whole sitcom-y thing where Donald switches back and forth between being himself and Ringtail upon being bashed on the head. Granted, some of the piratey dialogue is nice (all credit to Dwight Decker), but for the most part...eh.


Somehow, this part where they end up on a cruise ship and everyone thinks they're part of the entertainment just feels so boilerplate to me. Maybe it just comes of reading too many of these stories, but I was just intensely bored by the whole episode.



Okay okay, except for Suspicious Steward here.  He is suspicious.


VERY, VERY SUSPICIOUS.


I know I've beaten this drum a lot, but really, even when the plot isn't super engaging, it really is nice to look at. Another similarity with certain Rota stories.


Just presenting this image because it's nice to look at. That is all.


I mean...just in case you were worried that Scrooge wouldn't get more money for no reason...here you are.


Boilerplate Beagle thing, &c.


Does the logic here work? Not even slightly. We very clearly see him switching between Donald and Ringtail with no absences. The idea that Donald was actually absent and unconscious the whole time Ringtail was around...nope. Not havin' it. Nice try. Not that nice. Whatever.


I like that skeleton, he noted irrelevantly. Anyway, the end. I know it seems kind of abrupt, but that's the end of the story. Honestly, I like it, but what I really like is most of the flashback section and the art. The rest of it is pretty middling. However, it's a testament to how good the good stuff is that that's really what tends to stick in one's mind when one thinks of it.

"Night of the Living Text"

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I read this story when the English version was first published, and, well, I liked it. A lot, in fact. I'd go so far as to say that, after "The World to Come" and "Quandomai Island" (those sentimental favorites), it might actually be my favorite Casty story (I also like the much-feted "World of Tudor," but I find it's just a little too hard to fully suspend my disbelief). So there you go, but obviously, I didn't write anything about it. And...I haven't written anything about any Casty story, I see. Well, there's definitely a reason for that.

I remember when I was working on my PhD dissertation, I noticed something. It consisted of four chapters, the first two of which were about modern writers from the early part of the twentieth-century, and the latter two of which were about more contemporary writers, who were and are still alive. And what I noticed was that, for the former two, it was much easier for me to talk about themes or ideas that their books might embody, regardless of their intention. Whereas it was hard for me not to think about the latter two as being more...aware, let's say, of what they were doing, and thus perhaps less fertile ground for analysis. And I think this is really just a matter of them being more recent and therefore more difficult for me to historicize or put in their proper perspective.

And thus it is also for comics. I know I've written about a fair few contemporary stories here, but the balance of my entries is pretty heavily weighted towards classic material, and I think it's exactly for that reason. I just don't find I have as much to say about the average Rosa story, somehow (which in some instances hasn't stopped me, of course).

Anyway. That being my long-winded way of saying that I'm not entirely sure how much of interest I'll find to say about this one. But I shall give it my best!


So the idea is that narration boxes turn evil.

And...I guess that's that! We are done here! See ya next time, folks!

...

Okay, obviously not, but it does point to a problem with writing about a story like this: it very much is a gimmick. That's not a pejorative; it's a great gimmick, but, I mean, what can you say about it once you've pointed it out? This is the question that we must answer.


Really, I can't complain: it's right up my alley; I know I've written before, probably too many times, about postmodernism and metatextuality and stuff in these comics, but this is just begging for it: this whole jumble of comics and tropes and whatnot all coming together in this big ol'jumble.


And, you know, it's true that the gimmick is easily described, but it's certainly executed with panache.


No, really, the way captions go from being expository to diegetic within a few panels is just DARNED. COOL.


I also like her; not that the character is really much of a character, but Casty's art I think especially nails it, and makes her more entertaining to read than you might think.


Also, I like dopey jokes. So there you go. But my question is: what do we do when this text makes us trip?


...that's not my department, says Gerner von Dipp.

Had to get that out. I must admit, I do find the "in the comics, there's always..." stuff a little bit grating. I mean, granted, given the premise, it's thematically appropriate, but STILL. Yeah, yeah...


I'll admit, even, that the boxes can become a little ominous, a bit like a China Mieville sort of thing, though the story doesn't go too far with that. I don't suppose you could in a Disney comic.

But really: the idea of this text, not signifying anything, only existing for effect, constantly calling attention to its textuality: is this a Gilbert Sorrentino novel, or what?


You'd better do what you can with the concept here and now, because unless you come up with a truly substantial, novel idea, you're not going to be able to have a do-over. So this is fun. I want to know what the Italian version had here.


I've made fun of the Italian tendency towards gigantic recap boxes before, so this made me laugh out loud.


And it's visually cool; I just somehow wish there was more to it than just this one visual joke. There it is, that's all. No follow-through. I do feel, somehow, that there are places where more probably could have been done with the concept. But then again...maybe not? Maybe it's inherently pretty limited? Difficult to say.


Yes! I immediately identified that "summertime" box as coming from the beginning of the localization of "The Delta Dimension." I would enjoy more of that kind of thing. I must admit, that "Folkestone Coast" reference (I assume it's a reference) is lost on me, however.


Anyway, we are coming to the denouement, which at least features Pete looking goofy. Or is that Goofy looking...? Oh, forget it.


Although, to tell the truth, even if I like the visuals, I still find this conclusion somewhat lame. Does that make caption boxes go haywire? Does it really? I am not so sure about this. I do not think there is any rule that would make this seem like something that comesfrom somewhere as opposed to something that Casty whipped out because he needed to end this somehow.


Well all right then. Surely the final "The End" box had to have some role here, so that's all right. And I do like the fact that it isn't quite the end.


Aaaaaall a dream! The most exciting ending! Especially when you pair that with "...or IS it?!?"


Yes. Well. I'm surely being unfair here. It is what it is, and what it is is fine. But the real question remains: you already have ice cream cones. Why do you need to go to the "soda shoppe" as well? Crikey! I feel like people have trouble coming up with fun things for Mickey to do, so they just revert to this archaic nineteen-fifties stuff. Oh well! That's neither here nor there. Really, I feel like I've spent entirely too much time carping about this story, which is really quite good regardless of my ability to pick nits.

"Mickey's Inferno"

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Everything I ever do I do for you, but sometimes, that's not as easy as one might hope. I actually had wanted to write about this story for a long time, but man alive. It's a dense text to get through, and I realize that that's kind of a weird thing to say about a Disney comic, but it's true nonetheless. Still, I finally got through it--for what really must be only the second time--and now...here it is.

This is interesting for many reasons. Published in 1949, it's a very early Italian story--one of the earliest, in fact. There were those Pedrocchi stories, of course, but they were sort of different--they don't feel like they're really part of the same evolutionary path as Italian Disney comics as we know them today. And aside from those...well, the first installment of "Mickey's Inferno" appeared in Topolino 7. Most of the previous issues had been taken up with Western reprints; Guido Martina had written two or three stories prior to this, but I think this might well have been only the fourth or fifth Italian story proper. This means, naturally, that (again, apart from Pedrocchi) it's the earliest Italian story to see print in the US.


It's also the beginning of that fascinating (to me, anyway) form, the Italian Disney story based on a work of literature, and the fact that this started with Dante is highly appropriate: Italians taking a quintessentially American form and making it their own. Well done, fellas.


Nice art from Angelo Bioletto, a newcomer to this blog.

What makes reading this a bit slow going is, naturally, the poetic (well...rhyming) narration. This localization is certainly impressive in that it follows the original's terza rima (sets of three lines with an ABA, BCB, CDC etc rhyme scheme), though it doesn't even make a passing effort to give it any kind of consistent scansion (I've no idea what Martina's script did in this regard) (and honestly, I'm not entirely sure how it worked in Dante himself; all I can say is how it works in this English rendering). This admittedly would've been a hell of a task, but as it stands, I find it amusing in places but more functional than anything else. Nobody would read this for its poetic sublimity.


Obviously, it's pointless to even try to think about, like, the theology of this or anything. You must accept it as it is! Yeah, it's goofy! That's the point! It's an exercise in futility to ponder what underpinnings it may have! But really, what fun is that? Expect to see an awful lot of it as this entry progresses.


I find the preamble a bit dull; things perk up a bit when we get to actual souls being tortured. So! Let's start here! This story, you will see, has a massive hate-on for teachers. For whatever reason. Well, for a fairly obvious reason: because the story's aimed at kids, and kids hate their teachers. Or so Martina perceived. There are several of these "actually, most teachers are great, but..." bits. I don't know if those are Martina originals or if they're just there in translation in order to make the story seem a bit less savage.


Also, I don't care what you say, I feel like eternal damnation is an excessive price to pay for boring some eight-year-olds. We also have that "the tricks they play don't kill me, so who gives two hoots?" which basic sentiment recurs several times throughout, and I just have to say: well...no, it doesn't kill you. Because you're already dead. That's why you're in Hell. Of course it doesn't "kill" you; you just have to suffer it until the Final Judgment. Have you lost track of the concept here?


Then, there are parts of this that are just confusing. Why is Homer here? Undetermined. I suppose Julius Caesar probably would be, but again, there's no in-text justification. And all this stuff about philosophers...it's supposed to be funny, presumably, but it's just...what? Why? Where am I? Who am I?


I merely include this image by way of noting that this can become edifyingly gruesome at times. I suppose everyone already knows that that Gemstone was somehow able to get this into WDC 666? I continue to find that highly awesome, even if that sort of numerology doesn't have anything to do with Dante.


Hey, look who's here. One thing you notice is that this story really does shove everyone who was anyone in 1949 into the story, as well as a few who really weren't, which is a cool thing that I appreciate. Well, everyone except Bucky Bug. I don't think he had much presence in Italy at the time.  OH WELL!


Did I say "appreciate?" Er...well. Look, I know we don't like to think about these things, but can we possibly admit that, regardless of anyone's intention, Eli Squinch has something of the anti-Semitic caricature about him under the best of circumstances, and that having him burning in Hell in a pile of money kind of makes that seem a whole lot more egregious? I'm not saying; I'm just saying. Actually...scratch that. I am saying. Yeesh.


Oh look, another teacher, 'cause FUCK TEACHERS.


See, his students have all grown up and died and likewise gone to Hell where they can torment him eternally, until it turns out he's just a robot. Wait, what?


The Inducks entry claims of this localization that there's "one scene removed." I'd love to know what that refers to; I always speculated that it was here, because it says we skipped a canto, and there's, gawd, Little Hiawatha's father whose name I absolutely refuse to look up for no apparent reason, doing absolutely nothing. It just feels like we missed some context, and you can see why there might have been an interest in snipping out this particular hypothetical segment. Then again, said inducks entry also doesn't list Hiawatha appearing here at all, so you got me.


We see Donald in three or four different contexts here, 'cause two was not enough. That's cool. I'm just posting this 'cause it's kind of creepy and neat.


OH BOY, it's Cousin Bertie! Who could forget this guy? Well, almost everyone, probably. Western's effort to make him a regular character was just bizarrely abortive: two stories in in fall of 1943, and that was it. Their hearts were clearly not in it. One of those stories subsequently appeared in Italy in 1948, explaining his presence here. I'm afraid this did not help to raise his overall profile, however.


My question: are these in fact children who died? This could get awfully macabre if you spent too long thinking about it, as I do. Maybe they were adults who were reduced to childhood for their punishment, but that doesn't seem to be the case, as we'll see. Again, a pretty grim situation. Still, we see that it's not just teachers; there's also payback for those damn students we all hate so much. What?


So this is, like, the Harrowing of Hell, Disney-style? Cool, cool. I'm down with that. But you have to wonder: how is the Blue Fairy's rationale not complete nonsense? What do you mean they "repented?" Sure, they were sad because they were being punished, but I think anyonewould "repent" in that sense. And "a truly good deed?" Bah! It's not that I think eternal damnation is a good concept, but the alternative here just seems to be nonsense.


You know, as one of those hated teachers myself, I have to say: I kind of agree with Honest John. Let's be anarchists! We don't need no education; we don't need to thought control! Especially given that the alternative is Jiminy Cricket's nauseating bromides. "The most fun of all," I ASK YOU (or is he suggesting that "the most fun of all" is being able to look down from Heaven and watch the sinners being tortured?  That, I'll admit, would make this significantly more interesting). Well, if he's as worthless a "conscience" here as he was in the movie, these kids are all ultimately going to be eternally damned anyway, so I guess it's okay.

Notice also that, as in the great "Donald Fracas," Martina has given the emphatically mute Gideon dialogue. Well done, Guido!


I mean...this teacher stuff is truly excessive. As I've said, I don't object to this in theory, but I feel as though Martina's hatred of the profession at this point is significantly outdoing that of his probable audience.


So we get the idea that this Inferno isn't permanent; people get out of it after a time. Only, the thing is, as everyone including Martina no doubt knows, there's a whole 'nuther part of the poem devoted to that premise. If you want to write "Mickey's Purgatorio," that's a whole 'nother thing. I actually remember liking the second part more than the first; it was very trippy and less mean-spirited. But your mileage will no doubt vary.


I don't want to spend much time on this Three Little Pigs bit because my feelings re these characters are well-known. I do appreciate the gruesomeness here, however.


I want to show this because it's cool, and also to acknowledge the inevitable "Duck in the Iron Pants" reference, probably more apposite here than it's ever been. Well done, all!


Somewhat bizarrely, this bottom layer of Hell is devoted to people cheating at sports. Is this just an Italian fixation? Whatevz. I'm disappointed and a little surprised that we don't get to see Chernabog from "Night on Bald Mountain;" that would've been appropriate and cool.


Well, anyway, it ends abruptly. I've skipped over a lot because, well, there's a lot here, it gets a bit dull in places, and it's not like this is all part of any kind of intricate overall plot. Still, I'll admit that in rereading it and writing about, I have started to appreciate the story a bit more than I had in the past. And it's nothing if not historically significant.

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Okay okay, because I know you demand it, yes, this was republished in the US ten years later with a different translation. So how is it different? Well, I haven't read the whole thing, but I was able to find this promotional giveaway that contains an excerpt floating around the internet. I think that's enough to get a fair idea of what it's about. Let's compare:

vs.

As you can see, it has the original three-tier layout, as opposed to the compacted four-tier version. So I kind of like that. It maintains the rhyme scheme, but again, doesn't scan in any way.

I mean, it's not unspeakably bad or anything. It'll do in the absence of any alternative. But it's not, to my mind, particularly good either. So many things to say about this one page:

-Compare: "No lights or reflectors on that thing? That's a ten-dollar fine!" vs "Your bike has a missing reflector! That's against the law, so I'm giving you a ticket! That's ten dollars!" Second one's pretty leaden, isn't it? This script isn't by Erin Brady...but it sure feels like it could be.

-I suppose you may appreciate that Zootopia reference and not find it painfully awkward, but...well, isn't it great how different people have different sensibilities?

-That whole "then we can move if it's true?" bit is just a failed attempt at sounding clever or natural or anything.

-Goofy does not normally style "I" as "ah." This looks to have been written by someone who wasn't familiar with the character's idiolect, at least in English. At least, that's what I want to say. And yet...per inducks, this was "adapted" by Stefan Petrucha, who as far as I know is a native English-speaker and who has written numerous Disney stories himself. So...I'm just going to assume that he was given limited latitude in the adaptation process. Or--to be scrupulously fair--we could suggest that possibly said adaptation wasn't actually applied to this preview, but only the full version; inducks has it wrong. If neither of these are true...I am a little bit confused.

-The less said about Goofy calling the lion "dude" the better.

Okay, just one more little thing:


"OTOH?" Look, I know I've used a few internet acronyms in fan translations I've done; guilty as charged. But there, the acronym was the joke. Here, it appears to just be there to save space. Very unprofessional-looking.

Yeah, so as I say, it's not super-painful or anything, but you'd do a hell (ha ha) of a lot better to just rustle up a copy of WDC 666 if you possibly can.

"King of the Golden River"

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Hmmm...does that title remind anyone of anything? I will note that given that this was first published in 1961, some three years after Barks' (and several years after the Barks story was first published in Italy), and given that the English title here is a literal translation of the Italian, it's at least possible that there was some influence (and I do wonder whether this was chosen for localization due to the perceived Barks assocation--thiswas originally going to be called "The Other Golden Helmet"--good call not sticking with that, guys). Yes, I'm perfectly aware that Barks got the idea from a story by John Ruskin, but which one seems like a more likely influence? As we'll see, this might have certain thematic similarities with its predecessor. How well are these executed? Well...note that we're talking about Guido Martina here, and place your bets accordingly.


Actually, forget it; there's no way I can get through this, or even partway through, keeping my opinion somehow hidden. This story is not very well-plotted or pleasant. I do have some affection for ol' Guido; he wrote some stories that I enjoy a great deal. But he also wrote some pretty dire stuff, and this falls more on that end of the spectrum. It's one of those things that you'd barely call "plotted" at all: it's the very epitome of "made up as he went along:" this happened and then this happened and then this happened and let's not think too hard about the causal links between these things. This stuff about space stations that opens the story, for instance. Don't expect it to be relevant later on except in the most dubious, tangential way.

I should take a moment to note that Joe Torcivia's script is professional as ever; that is in no way the problem, and indeed, it probably lends this whatever level of readability it has. It certainly serves as a counterpoint to the trash IDW is trying to sell us these days. But I kind of think the story was beyond salvation.


Seriously, especially in the first part, the bewildering contortions this takes are extremely hard to summarize without sounding like a madman. Let me try: HDL gets this letter from Gladstone and he shrieks in joy so they think he's mad at them and so try to hide away in their tree fort, only he's sabotaged it so they can't climb up, so they decide to invent a way to nullify gravity so they won't fall (as you do), and as they're doing this Donald comes back home, having confirmed he has the winning ticket, only then it's destroyed in an explosion, so HDL run away again and this time make it into their tree fort, and Donald tries to climb after them only the ladder malfunctions so he decides HE should come up with an anti-gravity potion and goes to see Gyro for the purpose and while he's there HDL decide to futz around some more with their chemistry set and accidentally summon this ancient King of the Golden River and...okay. That's about enough of that.

Given all this nonsense, is it too trivial to point out that GLADSTONE'S LUCK DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY? If he gives Donald the ticket, it's not going to somehow maintain the luck on its own; it will NOT WIN. So there.


Two entries in a row with the evergreen "Duck in the Iron Pants" line. It will never die. If you were a fan coming to this stuff but you didn't know the older story, you might well think, why the HELL does this weirdly specific phrase keep cropping up? Not that I don't approve.


Anyway, back to where we left off, with our titular King. I suppose it's small beans compared to some of the story's larger problems, but I cannot help but be irritated by the completely random-ass way he was released. I mean, obviously this is just another aspect of the make-it-up-as-you-go aspect of the story, but I can't help feeling that with just a modicum of thought and care, it could have been made significantly more plausible-sounding. As it is, the whole thing just seems completely arbitrary. And I am annoyed. ANNOYED!


Anyway, Scrooge gets involved, again in a very dubious way. On the one hand I appreciate all the Barks Books there (and one non-Barks Book,which, fine); on the other, it seems unfair to position this story on the same level as those.


And now, some backstory. If you thought the actual meat of this was going to be anything like that other story...prepare for disappointment. It's not even a real river. Just one of those dreaded Metaphor Rivers.


A more significant problem is that we get zero idea of ol' Dondorado's character progression: he was bad in the past, apparently, but now he's good. Why? Entirely unknown. Considering that he sort of awkwardly floats over this whole story, it would probably be nice to have some idea of who he is and how he got there. But alas--such is not the Guido Martina Way.


Still, whatever you think of the story, you can't complain about Giovan Battista's artwork. I know it's a point that I and others have made before, but compare this to any non-Barks scribbler at Western and...well, you can't. Because there's no comparison.


Yes! The Amazon IS very vast! Good call, Scrooge! But there's only one country in South America that starts with 'A!' Of course, that's neither here nor there, as the river only runs through Venezuela, Peru, and Brazil! I dunno. I realize that the go-to explanation for geography in Disney comics that doesn't make sense is "oh, it's not *actually* supposed to be the real world; it's just meant to be kind of spiritually reminiscent of the real world." But that explanation doesn't satisfy me in this instance. Since a lot of the plot revolves around the location being unknown, the fact that the geography in question was just lazily thrown together like this feels...well, lazy. And not satisfying! This is a point I'm I've made before about these sorts of stories (possibly even in this very entry), but if the writing tried just a LITTLE harder, it could be SO MUCH BETTER. The effort-to-reward ratio is SO low. And yet...


I mean COME ON, we're supposed to think that the country might not even be in South America? That's just lame, lame, lame.


Anyway, they have to go together because Donald knows, more or less, where the place is, and Scrooge has the cash, and I hope you like the above image, because you will be seeing it again. Here's the thing: I could roll with the slapdash plotting here if the characterization were strong. I don't need much of an excuse to want to hang out with my favorite ducks. But the characterization is...this, and oh boy do I ever hate it. Scrooge and Donald both are portrayed as these repellent, utterly self-interested characters with no redeeming traits in sight. This sort of thing is okay in limited doses in some sorts of stories, but in a long adventure narrative like this, it's just death. Really, really bad. Oh, but HDL provide a counterbalance to that, don't you see? Well...yes, but on the other hand, no. They aren't painted with any more nuance than their uncles, and I can't say I find their goody-two-shoes act compelling either. The whole thing is just this incredibly ham-handed morality tale that does nobody any good. Compare this to the Barks "Golden River" and the deficiencies here come into sharp focus.


Would you believe this thing is a three-part story? Those are pretty uncommon; why was in decided that this, of all things, deserved the honor? The main result of that is a lot of tedious shit where nothing meaningful happens, like all this damn business with the donkeys.  Even though this entry is going to be too damn long, note that there is a lot I'm leaving out for lack of interest.  Blah blah blah and blah.


Hey look, it's the exact same joke we've seen in "Saturnin Farandoul!" Just ONE of the many reasons Guido Martina is so beloved far and wide!


The art is basically the thing you can enjoy in this story, so let's take a moment to appreciate it. Battista Carpi certainly doesn't let down his side of the story. Dig those long shadows.


...and now, I drag you back to earth. It's funny because in the first panel they look like they don't hold each other in contempt, but then it turns out they do! Megalolz, for sure. Don't break the fourth wall, dude! You think Iwant to be implicated in this?

The question that you have to ask: how exactly do they plan to manage it so only they get the treasure and the other doesn't? You're in the middle of nowhere. It's a big, bulky treasure, with no way to hide it. Even if you're willing to go along with their dickheadedness, this huge practical concern gets in the way of taking this seriously. The only answer you might come up with is, oh, they're so blinded by their greed that they're not thinking clearly. But don't pretend you think that's authorial intent; you and I both know that you're just rationalizing--and not in a satisfying way either; sure, you could imagine that they momentarily thought or failed to think along those lines, but in an extended narrative like this? Even as cartoon logic, that falls flat. Splat.


Well, there's this. This is the part that you might want to compare to the infinitely superior Barks story: do a good deed; get rewarded. Okay. I mean, the story could still be redeemed at this point if Donald and Scrooge actually learned a lesson from all this. Think that's very likely? Do you think this "gesture of kindness" business will be handled in a subtle and intelligent way? There is literally NO WAY to answer these questions.


Yup, Scrooge isn't just avaricious; he also HATES FLOWERS. Why not? Including any sort of shading or subtlety in his characterization is just asking TOO MUCH. Might as well have him kick a puppy, just to show how EEEVIL he really is. I jest, of course. Even this story would never descend to that level of self-parody. Thank goodness for small favors.


Meanwhile, of course, veering violently to the other side of the spectrum, HDL are so saintly that they're willing to sacrifice their lives that a flower might live slightly longer. I'm sorry; I wish I had something clever to say (okay: I do like seeing Scrooge falling and braining himself), but I simply CAN'T EVEN with this story. I literallycan't even, even.


Remember how in the Barks story, it was kind of intentionally unclear whether the gold was actually caused by magic or whether it was some sort of scientific thing? Well, here, you just do a good deed, or the Martina's idea thereof, and poof, magic shit happens in a strange, impossible-to-visualize way.


Well...here's this again. See? I was not exaggerating even a tiny bit when I said you'd see this again. I'm actually kind of impressed in a perverse way by the bull-in-a-china-shop obviousness of everything here.


Welp.

I like that "coincidence?" as though this is something that could just happen by random happenstance. You really do have to wonder: just who is this for, anyway? I can only imagine the dimmest, most malevolent of toddlers enjoying this, and I feel like he's probably too busy tweeting to find the time.


I think Scrooge has come off a little bit worse here, what with kicking flowers and dogs, but don't count Donald out, either! He's entirely willing to let strangers suffer! I really like how he mocks the guy by taking a drink right there in front of him. And by "like" I of course mean "despise." I don't want to sound humorless or anything, but seriously, fuck this story.


Dondorado is extremely correct in that last panel, and HDL would do well to cut their losses and get outta there with the treasure.


I mean...you can't just do this. You can't portray your characters as having zero redeeming qualities and then expect us to buy this kind of sentimentalism. "Not usually," indeed. If you imagine that you can have stuff that happens in other stories do your work for you here...well, you can't. Forget it.


This bit really shows up the nonsensicalness of the idea that either of them can somehow take it all for themselves. Maybe they should both just fall in and die. That would be appropriate.


OH HO! Were you wondering when that awkward anti-gravity thing would be shoehorned back in? No? Well TOO BAD. Because now you know.


I'd like to know what Martina thinks "weightless" means if they're still falling like this. "Very light" is not synonymous. This is obviously a small thing, relatively speaking, but let's remind ourselves that this was originally meant to help rockets escape Earth's gravity, which this would...not do. Really, now.


See, you THINK you can make Donald and Scrooge seem less hateful by including these panels, but you can't. Or maybe you don't think that. But actually, you could,sort of, if the follow-through were there. But it's just so transparently insincere--"we're sad that we were jerks now that we didn't get any treasure"--and what follows show that even on THAT level it doesn't mean anything so...what are we doing here, ladies and gents? Is there a fire escape we could hurl ourselves down?


Anyway, now, this game show thing, and yes, this all feels extremely disjointed, but we must be used to that by now. So let's pay careful attention to the host's words there: "a viewer at home could still win, by showing up here at our studio with the correct answer...in five minutes!" Let it be noted.


Oh yeah, I didn't mention that the place they were going had the extremely bad name of "Land of the Most." Lame and unevocative and bad. I dock you one half of one letter grade.


So yeah, Donald and Scrooge use the anti-gravity pills to get there in time. Okay, you might think. Fine. But--because there just had to be one more damn thing, didn't there?--it turns out we're supposed to think this is somehow "cheating" even though--let's return to the above quote we highlighted--the host put absolutely no stipulation on how one could get to the studio and didn't give so much as the vaguest hint that there were these unwritten rules. Yeah, out of everything bad they've done in the story, we're getting all het up over this? Would taking a carbe cheating? Walking in an unusually vigorous manner. Regardless, it's idiotic, and I am not amused.


Yeah, you can just see what's coming here, can't you? I'm not even going to touch the general dopiness of this "paid in body weight" thing. It's just here to make the story do what Martina wanted to do; there's nothing else to say.


Let me again note that they don't actually weigh nothing, or else they'd be floating off into space right now (okay, I suppose they could weight little enough for the scale not to register). But that, again again, is the least of our problems.


Anyway, turns out the host was Dondorado. Did he murder the real host and hide his body in a supply closet? Yeah, probably. You suck at making morality plays, Dondorado! The children of the world hate you!


Well, the bright spot is that Donald and Scrooge will be stuck in space for eighty years. Note that, even though they're supposed to be super-saintly and everything, HDL can't even pretend to be bothered that their sociopathic relatives are gone forever. As indeed who could?


That IS a pretty cool ending splash panel, though, I'll grant you that much. Again, Battista Carpi is all this has going for it.

I dunno, foax. I have read stories where Martina has a significantly better handle on his characterizations than this, but when he was bad, oh my was he ever bad. I want to like this story because, well, obviously I want to like whatever I read, but more specifically because of the pleasantly Barks-reminiscent title. Alas, I cannot recommend this one to boys and girls of all ages, or any ages.


"Nightmare on Webfoot Walk"

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Well, hello, boils and ghouls. What frightful little creatures of the night you are. I'd better give you a treat, then, hadn't I? Old Man GeoX has somethingvery special for you tonight. Something...spine-chilling. OoOoOoOo!!!

Yes, it's time for this blog to RISE FROM ITS GRAVE. I feel sort of guilty that I've been neglecting it so long, but...well, it happens, I guess. For various reasons. No need to go into them here! Suffice it to say, I've tried to make up for it with something special: a new translation. Click the link above! For the first time, instead of a series of loose image files, I've made the whole thing into one PDF, which seems much more sophisticated. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. Anyway, that's what it is! It's a story by Marco Rota. Actually, I probably would've done this years ago, but I was thinking IDW might do an official version. But! Now that IDW has decided that insipid mediocrity is the correct business strategy going forward, I see no reason to hold back. I feel like there aren't enough really spooky Disney stories, at least in English, so I'm glad to add another one.


The original title is just "Nightmare on Duck Street," which...come on. Don't be silly. Or, perhaps more accurately, be more silly. Notice the billboard in the background featuring Goofy for no reason. That's fun.


I may be the only one to find this amusing, but I, GeoX, am paying tribute here to Barks' occasional tendency to have characters to refer to themselves by their full names for no reason.


Anyway, what we have is: Donald falls asleep in Gyro's lab, and when he wakes up, things are straaaaange! Truth be told, the story isn't really structured like much of anything: a series of vignettes like this, and that's about it. But there's some surreal, occasionally unnerving stuff here, and that is enough for me.


Believe it or not, I did not make up this silly joke about taking public transportation. It's taken directly from the French text. Hurray!


Donald gets dragon'd. Yup...I don't have much to say about this; it's just nice'n' festive.


Urgh. Unfortunately, we inevitably come to this part. Sad to say, for all of Rota's many virtues, he's also an old-school sexist. If you wanted, you could see this particular instance of that as being related to the character rather than the author: Donald's dreaming (um, spoiler), so he's created this straw-Daisy in his head. I think Rota is betrayed in that regard by his previous work, however.


My creative flourishes in this story are really pretty limited and restrained; I didn't change much. But I did make up a lot of shit for Daisy's dialogue here. In the original, it's a pretty tedious thing where she tells him to do these chores and he claims not to understand so she just keeps repeating them. Blah. At least now it's sexist in a slightly less boring way, I hope!


Really like this bit with Grandma and Gus. One of the spookiest things is having your expectations turned upside down. You can trust Grandma AHH NO SHE'S HURLING PIES AT YOU FOR NO REASON! I can understand why someone wouldn't like this story; why they wouldn't want to see the regular order overturned. But I think it works pretty well.


I like these giant and small and regular Beagles. When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead. Good fun.


And the idea that they've taken over the city--one kind of wishes more was done with that; there's some potent horror potential in there.


As there is in the idea of Scrooge going nuts and blowing up his fortune.


Freakin' hell, man. And don't forget giant-living-coins Scrooge. Looks like a super-hero/villain origin story. As I say: there are a lot of great moments here, there really are.


And of course let's not forget THE ULTIMATE SHOCKER. This is just awesome. Exactly what the doctor ordered. The MAD doctor!


I'm sorry to say, however, that the ending is a huge anti-climax. You might expect things to go back to normal, but you'd hope for some kind of stinger, which you don't get. Compare this to Rota's "Halloween Huckster" and the difference is apparent. To be fair, this wasn't actually written to be a Halloween story; setting it in October was my own addition. To be EQUALLY fair, I don't think that really matters. The story is what it is, and it lives or dies based on how wellit is. OH WELL.


Anyway. Apparently Donald's not being a dick now, so that's an improvement...? And that is ALL.

Well...almost. I've taken the unprecedented liberty here of creating an alternate ending more in keeping, I hope, with the season:


Which do you prefer? Well, no matter; I've included them both in the translation, so you can delete whichever one you hate more.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, ALL! I realized in the course of doing this that these translations are easier than I thought they'd be, so maybe we'll see more in the near future. WHOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO!

"The Betrothed"

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In the comments to my "Mickey's Inferno" post, an anonymous commenter linked to this, which is this. It's a very early Guido-Martina-penned story; it's interesting for a number of reasons, the first of which is that, for unclear reasons, it's bilingual in Italian and a rough approximation of English. So let's take a look, shall we?


This is based on an 1827 novel, Alessandro Manzoni's I promessi sposi, which is apparently a huge cultural touchstone on Italy, but I must admit, even as a big reader, I'd never heard of it until now (the English translation is called The Betrothed, which not only sounds better but seems to be more accurate than "the promised spouses," given that they're not yet married). But now I actually kind of want to read it, not for any reason having to do with this comic, but just because it looks interesting. Note, however, that we're talking about a seven-hundred-plus-page novel condensed to a two-page comic, so if you're a huge Manzoni fan, I would not expect to find many plot points from the book herein.

What with that title card done up to look like the opening of a movie, I wonder if the English dialogue might be there because Disney was primarily associated with Hollywood movies in Martina's head and he was trying to mimic those. Though given that it's an Italian novel, the messages seem kinda mixed. Do you think Martina did the translation himself? I must say, these days anyone could do a better job just with a straight google translate translation.


Oh yeah, another weird thing here is that the story is bordered on both sides by this calendar. But I don't know if that's actually related to the story in any way, or if it was just a convention of Albi d'Oro (the pre-Topolino publication where this appeared--which also featured a teaser spread for the upcoming "Mickey's Inferno").


Other odd thing is that this features stolen (okay, let's say...repurposed) art from Gottfredson, Manuel Gonzales, and Enrico Pinochi (who did the art for a number of Federico Pedrocchi stories). I'm not versed enough to recognize what part is by who, but it's probably why the art doesn't always seem to match the dialogue. Like, why is Clarabelle scowling here?

Also, what the heck is that song she's meant to be singing? There's no Italian version, so we can't even look back to try to see what it's a mangled version of. You can do a google search for "Theresa" and "Erbett," but you will come up empty.  Anyone who knows what it's supposed to be, please let me know.


Please enjoy this passionate romance. One thing you will learn when studying a foreign language is that just because two words come from the same root or appear to, they don't necessarily mean the same thing. For instance, both English-speakers learning French and French-speakers learning English must learn that "actuellement" does not mean "actually." Anyway, that's how we get "what a sympathetic guy" here.


One of the great love stories of our time, or any time. Really. I don't know what else to say.


Oh no! Pete! Why is he holding what appears to be a snapped-off broom handle in the first panel? Because this art is from who knows where! Why does he object to the wedding? For reasons not even vaguely hinted at! OMG!


So, Goofy contemplates suicide. Well hell, Mickey did the same in Gottfredson, so there's precedent. I get the seeming gibberish of the pun; the problem is, in English we don't generally think of lakes as having "branches." It would work a lot better if it was a river. I don't know what kind of weirdass lakes you have in Italy.


Well, never mind; turns out Pete died of plague (or "pest"). I do enjoy that. Obviously, Martina had no thought here of any kind of continuity for these characters.


Dammit. Well, fair enough--can't forget about Horace. You know, if this whole thing was completely different and better-translated, we could get some real pathos up in here. But alas, it is what it is.


So anyway, then Goofy lands a plane in a pond and dies (I can only assume)  The end.  I assume this is a "Leader of the Pack"-type situation?  Given that the novel is from 1827, you have to question the textual fidelity here ("oh, that's the only reason for that, is it?).

I dunno. That might be about all there is to say about that. A silly and totally frivolous oddity, but given that it'll probably take less than a minute to read the whole thing, you might as well check it out.

"Out of the Blue"

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And now, the start of what I like to call A VERY UNCLE SCROOGE #348 CHRISTMAS. This issue is unusual in that it's a Christmas issue of Uncle Scrooge from Gemstone with no Barks content at all. Were they looking forward to a time when they'd HAVE to do Barksless Christmases? Alas, such a time would never have the chance to arrive. But what would it have been like it if had? Let's take a peek, shall we? Also, there will be at least one other story, and possibly more, depending on how I feel. Obviously, I am not super-concerned with conceptual purity.

As seems logical, we will start with the story that has nothing whatsoever to do with holidays or winter or anything. Well, "out of the blue?""Blue Christmas?" That's a thing, right? Let's say it is. Sure. 'Tis the season for pushing tenuous ideas well past their breaking point. I like Van Horn reasonably well, but I've never written much about him here; it's never felt like there's that much to say. He has his strengths, and he has his tics that annoy me, but none of them have generally seemed vitally important for me to talk about. I'm disappointed that he gave up on his occasional efforts to write longer adventure stories. I'm sure I've said that before.


Okay, let's be honest: this really doesn't rank among my favorite Van Horn efforts, so let me try to be positive where possible: Donald's opening line, while nothing all that mind-blowing, is pretty okay. I also really like the green eyeshades: a totally anachronistic thing that has no meaning in the modern age but is nonetheless still associate with people doing accounting and finance work. That's fun.

Debts, if you're wondering. Debts are the thing that Donald got all of.


But wait! A hoary "inheritance" plot twist! I don't much care for the owl judge (lawyer?)'s toothless sarcasm there, I have to tell you.


Oh gawd, I try to be positive, and then I come to what I find possibly the most irritating thing in Van Horn stories (I mean, beyond the meta-irritation of the lack of ambition): the LOL RANDOM book titles and the like, usually having to do with some sort of food, like tapioca, anchovies, or "prunewhip" that Van Horn apparently finds funny. Gawd. I suppose this is a slightly mutated version of Barks' occasional book titles, but those were much less strenuously "wacky" than these. Bah.


And let's not forget "Bulgarian bus transfers." Always with the Bulgarian bus transfers. On the one hand, I AM amused by Donald's sarcasm there--the body language is good--but on the other, I dunno. Wouldn't he be excited to get an unexpected hundred bucks? Granted, that's less than it would have seemed in the fifties, but it's still not something you'd say no to. It's also confusing because you have all these Barks reprints in which lower sums of money are meant to be impressive, and even if Gladstone versions (not so much Gemstone) occasionally updated references to specific years and things, they didn't change money amounts, so you're sort of programmed to think, yeah, a hundred bucks! Not bad! Only here, Donald turns up his nose at it, apparently. You know where it's going with this "interest" business, however. Pretty sure this only applies to banks and things. If you informally lend someone money and they give you an IOU, I don't think they're legally bound to pay you any sort of interest. Whatever; it's just the sort of thing that happens.


Yeah, so the rest of this is going to consist of Scrooge fleeing to try to avoid having to pay, and yes, to an extent you just have to accept cartoon logic, but there are different levels, and I don't see how ANYONE could read this without wondering, what exactly is the endgame here? Is the idea that you're going to keep evading your relatives, like, forever? Are you going to relocate overseas to avoid paying this debt? And if it's legally binding--which you clearly accept it as, otherwise you wouldn't be running--aren't you just being a criminal? You have a flippin' business empire; you obviously have any number of payments you have to make every day. How is this the last straw? Bah. Not a fan.


Well, anyway, get ready for some extremely mild hijinx, as we oft see from Van Horn.


Yeah. And if YOU used half as much energy working on your businesses as you do to avoid spending what's gotta amount to .000000000000001% of your daily expenses, who KNOWS where you'd be? I mean, argh, I know harping on this is pointless and even if it's unavoidable, there's nothing to be gained by it, but I can't help it. It's all in the execution, really. This probably COULD have been done more effectively, such that you'd be more willing to overlook the problems. For instance, you could make it clear that Scrooge has some reason to be feeling especially financial fragile lately, and that the IOU, you know, expires THIS VERY NIGHT or something. But no. We get nothing like that.


Yeah, but you don't actually legally OWE "the gimme crowd" money, you lunatic! Oh what's the point?


I cannot begin to sufficiently emphasize how totally correct HDL are here. Come ON.


See, I don't like this either, because it's just so obviously Van Horn coming to the end of the story and making up some random crap to finish it, rather than anything organic or natural. No yeah actually Donald owed Scrooge almost exactly the same amount of money so we're done here. Also, can I say how much I don't like that "sly" heavy-lidded look he gives characters in situations like this? 'Cause I don't.


...and then this equally arbitrary ending. I mean, I guess I like the fact that he sees fit to give Donald a happy ending, but it's just as arbitrary as what came before. We Can Do Better.

Also, COME ON, MAN: It's "Two Out of Three AIN'T Bad." You know it, I know it, all the boys and girls in all the world know it. I know you pride yourself on hating popular culture, but you're just making yourself look silly here. REALLY.

Well! THIS was certainly a dyspeptic way to start the holiday season! Well, I suppose I can drop a little spoiler by way of assuring you that future entries in A VERY UNCLE SCROOGE #348 CHRISTMAS will be significantly more positive.

"The Duckburg Ice Festival"

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Today's story is "The Duckburg Ice Festival," which doesn't have anything explicitly to do with Christmas, but which is certainly more thematically appropriate than that Van Horn story. This is the first of two stories written by Janet Gilbert and drawn by Vicar. I definitely badly undervalued Vicar in the past, probably because his art has often been in the service of stories of questionable value, but he was damned good at what he did. I can't say that much about Gilbert; I've undoubtedly read others of her stories, but I can't say I have any kind of mental catalogue of all these sundry Egmont writers.  I had to create a "Janet Gilbert" tag just for this post.  However, inducks DOES have a picture of her with a fish on her head:


So that's fun.


The set-up is immediately familiar from various Barks stories, though this one differs from those in that Donald isn't involved in the contest (well, there is "The Golden Nugget Boat," but that's a little different).


What it is is a sort of self-consciously "madcap" thing, with a number of intersecting plotlines: the Scrooge vs Gladstone bit, of course...


...and this thing where Donald and Daisy are trying to win an ice skating contest against this Eurotrash couple (whom I think are quite well-drawn to suggest their character)...


...and this business with HDL trying to sell hot chocolate only to be overshadowed by a rival chocolate-seller.


The whole thing is reasonably well-done, with energetic action and some nice cascading disasters. The problem, as it oft is with such things, and the reason I rarely write about them, is that I don't necessarily have that much to say about it.


Well--I have only myself to blame! So I think that rather than providing an overview of the whole story, I'm going to zero in one particular part of it that I think is at least moderately interesting and deserves some discussion. It feels kind of excessive to go on and on about an ultimately fairly trivial story like this, but, well, here we are.


Right. So as I said, HDL--in Woodchuck guise--are trying to sell their cocoa. But oh no! They have competition, in the form of the massive, faceless, megalithic corporation known as Mighty Mocha, and I think the way the story deals with this plot is sort of problematic, and worthy of consideration. So, firstly: is Mighty Mocha some kind of giant company unfairly muscling HDL out of business? Well...no? Or at least, there's no evidence of such? If this is meant to be some sort of Starbucks analogue, that is left extremely unclear by the story. Sure, they have a slightly fancier stand than the Woodchucks do, but really, it's only slightlyfancier. It wouldn't have required that much of an investment to set up. The idea, clearly, IS that they're supposed to be unfairly squeezing HDL's simply, down-home chocolate, but the story really doesn't present any evidence that that's the case.


They're not interested in buying your chocolate because they're busy with this contest. They're not ignoring you out of spite, and they're not buying stuff from Mighty Mocha instead. You have zero right to be offended here. And yet...I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be sympathizing with you here. But how can I? You don't come across as sympathetic; just kind of whiny.


This isn't really relevant to the discussion, but COME ON: if you've been soaked in frigid water in the middle of winter, your first priority is going to be changing into dry clothes, not buying drinks. You friggin weirdos.

But that is neither here nor there. You might think that that sign doesn't make sense: they had it up when there wasn't demand for their cocoa, but now there IS demand, and anyway, we see them taking money, so it's obviously not still free. Now, it would be reasonable to infer that they just didn't have time to change the sign, but in a visual medium like that, you really should make that apparent. So yes, thanks to Elaine for letting me know that it is indeed just a mistake. Here's a Finnish version that Lieju posted on Feathery Society:


So instead, they've increased their prices. This is what started me thinking about this story in earnest. I guess initially, I just sort of had the hazy idea, oh look, they're being Good Samaritans, and giving the cocoa away to people in need!  This somehow seems more Woodchuckesque.  But...nope. Which is more logical within the story, but does it actually work? So on the one hand, the logic dictates that this should be a triumphant thing; initially they were struggling, but now they're raking in the dough! Yay for them! And yet...when you think about what they're actually doing, it doesn't seem so pretty. What do we call people who jack up the prices for good when people are in desperate need of them (and no, obviously nobody literally "needs" cocoa, but it's definitely presented that way; otherwise, Scrooge certainly wouldn't be willing to pay)? "Profiteers" is the usual word, and it's, uh, not generally considered a good thing. I feel like this story is relying pretty heavily on us just supporting HDL because they're good guys and we like to see them come out ahead, but for me, that just doesn't work. At the very least, the story would need to include some instances of the other characters being jerks to them, but it doesn't even have that. What is everyone else being punished for, exactly? Nothing that's adequately depicted. Don't get me wrong; I still think the story is okay. But...well, sometimes when I write about a story, I grow to appreciate its good points by means of enumerating them. But I kind of think the opposite has happened here, a bit. Suffice to say that I definitely prefer the otherGilbert story we'll be looking at.

"The Christmas Gathering"

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Here it is: our first ChristmasChristmas story--a Beagle Boys joint by Gorm Transgaard, and boy is it ever not his fault that his name always makes me think "gormless," but it absolutely does. Of course, if being without gorm means being kind of weak and dopey, you'd think it would that gorm would be a goodthing, but my brain refuses to work that way. Well...so it goes.


I have to say, I think you should be careful about hyping up your plans to that degree. I'm not saying hyperbole is never called for, but when you're writing a pretty standard sort of story that, whatever its quality, will be swiftly forgotten...well, if it's genuinelyone of the most ingenious things they've ever done, go for it, but if not, it might be better not to create unrealistic expectations. Well, we'll see.


Nope, still not a big fan of the "Beagles as massive international crime syndicate" thing. Yes I know it's almost universal, there's no point in my getting all het up, but I dunno; I guess I prefer a smaller, more intimate sort of criminal gang. But regardless of that, I do find the degree of build-up here excessive. I am NOT filled with suspense, Gorm! I'm just impatient for you to get on with it!


Hmm. What is this? This is not crime. This is not Beagley. What are we even doing here?


Welp, obviously Transgaard anticipated my objections, so we have this justification. Mind you, I don't find it to be a particularly good justification. What's this "we can't create suspicion" nonsense? If you create suspicion, well, that comes with the territory! You've gotta just deal with it! If you're scared of blood, don't become a doctor!

Also, "we all know how big our mother is?" If we're talking about the DucktalesMa Beagle, then...not that big? Okay okay, maybe we're talking about her outsize personality. I'm just nitpicking here. Although really, the idea that she's mother to all of them? Well, again, this is Ducktales canon I suppose, but eh. A fan, again, I am not.


I mean, granted, it iskind of amusing to see them roughing up passers-by in Santa suits, and perhaps that's all the justification you need, but to me, a big problem with the story is that the Christmas stuff all seems forcible shoe-horned in, as opposed to being anything organic to the narrative.


And this police station stuff, it only takes up a single page, sure, but it is conspicuous in its total irrelevance to the story as a whole.


Transgaard seems somewhat hung up on justifying why any of this was necessary. I don't know if it's good to have such threadbare infrastructure for your story. If you'll recall, there's no evidence that they had to engage in legal activity to build their Paul Bunyan Machine (though granted, they were at one point planning to repurpose it for legalactivity, so maybe all my objections here are meaningless, but I'm just going to carry on like they're perfectly valid. Okay.).


Anyway: this. I mean, it's okay, but describing this as some sort of amazing, unparalleled new idea seems doubtful. I mean, in a post-Paul-Bunyan-Machine, post-Giant-Robot-Robbers world, it seems like old hat. And though I hate to say it, there's no reason whatsoever that the robot has to be Santa-themed. That doesn't play into their plans at all. Really, the only thing in this story that--it could be argued--is irreducibly Christmas-based is the alleged Spirit of Giving that's going to cause people to donate money to them, and even that seems a bit shaky. I'm certainly not opposed to a giant Christmas-themed robot, but it needs more justification, I think.


But allow me to ask the age-old question: who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth if he could take it from the money man? This is obviously only here because "taking candy from a baby" is a phrase. I'm not sure if that's the greatest way to run your story. Whatever. I realize I'm probably being excessively nitpicky in this entry.


Anyway, they're brought down by random chance because some security guards are playing Christmas music that interferes with the robot, but if that's the case, how is it that any ol' Duckburg radio station isn't enough to make it go haywire?

Also, "Jingle Bell Rock" is a pretty bad song, and even if you like it, you have to concede that it doesn't actually "rock" even a tiny bit. It's just a light jazz number.


I'm glad the out-of-town Beagles escaped. I like it when criminals get away with criminal behavior, on account of I'm Soft on Crime. I also do enjoy the robot being repurposed as a Christmas decoration.

However, in addition to my other problems, the main thing, probably, is that the story just seems centerless. This might be a thing with Beagle stories in general, but with no named characters to be antagonists and protagonists who don't have names or individual personalities (and who, due to the aforementioned lack of antagonists, have to end up defeating themselves), the whole thing just feels lopsided. I don't know. There are certain things about this that I don't hate, but I'd have to call it pretty forgettable overall.

"The Christmas that Almost Wasn't"

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Okay okay, a day late, but now we're back on track. No need to panic. Before we start, for anyone who hasn't yet had the pleasure, let's just have this great image by Tony Fernández of Greta (Grebe-a?) Thunberg as a duck:


Given that she's Swedish, she probably has at least SOME familiarity with Disney comics, so I hope she sees it and appreciate the honor.


ANYWAY, now we finally reach a story that really goes for broke on being as Christmas-y as possible. I admire that; no distancing or irony of any kind to be seen; just pure sentiment. And it works, more or less! Certainly, this opening is as seasonal as we could ask for.


But OH NO, what has happened?!? I suppose it's fairly easy to predict where this is going, but that's pretty much okay.


The one thing I will say, and I don't know if this is necessarily what you'd call a "problem:" well...was this idea of Gyro's Helper being such an important friend ever more than subtext at most in Barks? Whereas here (and in Rosa, of course, in "Gyro's First Invention") it becomes more just plain text, and somehow, that always feels kinda leadento me--excessively fanfic-y. I mean, hey, it's not a mortal sin or anything, you know, it's Christmastime, tidings of comfort and joy and all, but still, couldn't this perhaps have been presented in a slightly subtler way? I don't know. Maybe that's just my aesthetic sensibilities. As I said: it's fine!


So yeah, you have this random family, which again will likely recall other stories. Funny thing about this, though: there's no indication that this is actually one of those poor-but-virtuous families you'd see in a Barks Firestone giveaway comic; they may be virtuous, but the only reason they're not going to have a good Christmas seems to be that they put everything off until the absolute last minute.


I mean, they couldbe poor, but they're not drawn with any signifiers of poverty, and they have a car and a large-ish house with orange curtains covered with triangles, so, you know. This whole thing could be very different with different art.


As I say, it's fine, and Gyro inviting them 'round like this works well, but still, it might have more impact if the family seemed to be in reduced circumstances, rather than just having suffered a mild inconvenience. I probably shouldn't harp so much on this, but I don't actually have that much to say about this whole affair, so YOU WILL TAKE WHAT'S GIVEN YOU.


Yep yep yep. So it goes.


Sure, why not! Although I do wonder if anyone would really be happy to get a Christmas tree angel repurposed as a doll. I mean, those things are just not substantial in the way a good-quality doll would be.  Not something you could really hug in very satisfying way.  Well hell, it works okay in the context of the story; I just tend to think about things too much. Anyway, Helper makes a good tree topper; just the herald that the birth of Christ Our Lord calls for. Good on ya.

"The Hunt for White December"

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And now, A VERY UNCLE SCROOGE 348 CHRISTMAS (and I realize now that I kinda forgot I was calling it that for the last three entries) sputters to an unceremonious halt, though there might be another gift in the bottom of Santa's sack for Christmas day. This 1982 story (originally titled "White Christmas Worries" but redubbed "The Hunt for White December" for its US release, which, well, is definitely a movie reference) gets covered last, naturally, because it's the marquee story, on account of being longer than the others and, well, more like how you'd expect an issue of U$ to start. Whether it deserves that honor...is to be determined. Tee. Bee. Dee.


So here's the sitch. I find this idea pretty odd, here and wherever it appears. Even back when we were getting more snow than we are now (but not for climate-change reasons I swear LOOK A FOREIGNER), snow on Christmas was a desirable but far from guaranteed phenomenon, and if it didn't happen, well, no biggie. But here we have these weird people treating it like it's some sort of disaster or indeed unusual in any way.


So...does this seem like a normal Scrooge thing to you? Getting all worked up over the weather? I'd have to say no. In fact, I'd have to say it's extremely bizarre (but more on this momentarily).

"Argus McSwine." Where does that name come from? If you had the vague idea that it was some Barks story, like I did before I looked into it in more depth, you are mistaken. "McSwine"doesappear in "The Milkman," but "Argus" is nowhere to be seen. According to this,it's just something that was decided by fiat in 1990, and now inducks insiststhat all of Barks' pig-face villains are the same character. I think this is an extremely dumb idea, first because they self-evidently aren't, and second because choosing a new, goofy name every time is fun. I suppose some later writers may have made an effort to imagine this particular incarnation of the pig-face villain as one particular person, though. Not that interesting to me, but fine, I guess.

I do find "I meant what I said, Argus McSwine!" kind of awkward here. Obviously it's just using the full name for the reader's benefit, but is there any reason the reader needs to know his full name? Lots of Barks stories didn't bother with such niceties for these villains.


But anyway, as for the weirdly out-of-character weather wager...apparently Scrooge knew all along it was going to snow, so he got all belligerent about it knowing McSwine could be goaded into making a huge bet that it wouldn't and then he could take his money? Um. Even if this plan didn't seem so far-fetched, the idea that Scrooge would be unscrupulous in this way simply does not track. I mean, sure sure, you have the Barks one-pagers where he tricks the guy into giving him free or cheap coffee, but I don't think you can extrapolate from those to longer stories, and WHATEVER, MAN, this is just silly as all anything.


Oh no, VILLAIN TEAM-UP. Of sorts. I've noted in the past that I don't normally find such things super-compelling, but, well...I don't know how to end this sentence. "Email" seems dubious in a story from '82, but whatevz.


Here we go. I'll admit, it seems like a pretty solid plan. Hya!


Those are some zombie-looking nephews there. This "let's look for books about snow!" thing seems questionable at best. Also, if we're stipulating that they have email, they must have the internet, and they'd probably just look there instead. See what happens when you try to modernize? Inconsistencies can creep in.


Right, so I have to admit, I've never really warmed to Daniel Branca's art (Vicar yes, Branca no). Still, he has his moments. I think his Magica is good in general, and I really enjoy Librarian Magica.


Yeah, yeah...we might as well admit it, this whole thing is on the silly side; maybe Disney comics are fundamentally silly on some level, but characters should stay in character, even if there's some wiggle room as to what that means. Or so I believe.


Well, though it remains silly, I'll admit I'm amused by this explanation, and particularly by the phrase "heartfelt yawp."


Yes, okay, so this goes exactly as you'd think. But come on, really, EVERYONE knows it's nine ladies dancing. EVERYONE, I say! I'd be more forgiving if you messed up the pipers piping and drummers drumming, but this is unforgivable. UNFORGIVABLE!!!11


There we go. We're all happy except OMG, why is Scrooge sad? Shouldn't Donald know his uncle well enough by now to understand why he's not jumping for joy? Again, I'm not sure about the characterizations in this story.


Um...#toptenanimebetrayals? Is that an appropriate meme? Look, ultimately, all I want is to momentarily trick people into thinking I'm one of the cool kids. Is that too much to ask?

There IS the point to be made here that it's never really that edifying when the heroes win out only due to factors completely outside their control. But I guess I like the kids playing in the snow, anyway.


Hmmm. About that. See, I kind of think you DO welch on deals. I think that's one of your main things, really. And at any rate, you WERE happy to cheat to win the contest (notwithstanding that Scrooge kind of cheated first). The morality here is pretty dubious. It's supposed to be this "oh look, he may be bad, but he has an honorable core!" Which you're supposed to just accept seemingly for no other reason than that it's a common trope, but which I don't think there's ever been any evidence of ever.


And...really. Stop pretending this character has a long and storied rivalry/love-hate relationship with Scrooge when he self-evidently does not. There has never ever been anything good about him. You could probably just about get away with this with Glomgold or Rockerduck, but this guy? Get the heck outta here, ya bum! I guess I can give it a little leeway for Christmas, but on its own, this is not convincing on any level.

Welp, this is what Gemstone put together for a Barksless issue of one of their flagship publications. Not that great, is it? They could definitely have done better. Except for that Van Horn joint, none of the stories are really bad, but nothing too spectacular here. CHRISTMAS IS RUINED! Well, not quite. We'll definitely have something better for the day itself.

"Northeaster on Cape Quack"

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I hope y'all are ready to feel like a buncha chumps (how's that as the opening to a Christmas posting?), because here's a Barks Christmas story that I totally forgot about and that NO ONE mentioned to me. Well, Elaine did this year. But otherwise, it would've gone under the radar again; I had totally forgotten about it, like you people did. But in spite of that, it's actually a really good one! Well deserving to be recognized! So here we are!


I like the way that lighthouse is illuminated in such a way as to suggest a Christmas candle. Well, it does to me, anyway. Whether that was in any way intentional is unclear.


This story was published in 1962, and it's interesting seeing Barks rehearse once again this issue that preoccupied him so: things are different than they used to be. Are his stories losing relevance? Is he losing relevance? What room is there for an ol' scribbler in this ambiguously brave new world?

You have to wonder, though: did "some people" actually say this, or is it just that Barks felt self-conscious about a perceived cultural change and assumed that it's what they were thinking? Well, at any rate, their heads are full of rocks, if they are saying that. Let it be noted!


In addition to "some people," there are sinister dudes like THIS guy, Not-Argus Not-McSwine! I'm not sure what the relationship is between people who just sort of passively imagine that lighthouses are outdated and people who actively want them destroyed for capitalist reasons, but there you have it.


I've said it before re "Santa's Stormy Visit," but I'll say it again: I've always thought it would be hella cool to be a lighthouse keeper. I am a little disappointed that this guy doesn't actually live in the lighthouse; that he has a separate cottage, but not that disappointed. It's still a sweet situation he's got himself.

One thing that I find a bit distracting is the way this story keeps saying "northeaster." I'm pretty sure they're generally called "nor'easters." That certainly sounds more natural to me, anyway.


This story really does have pretty good build-up/atmosphere. I'm a little sorry it's only a ten-pager; I feel like it could have been expanded to a full-length adventure to great dramatic effect.


Interesting to note the possible contradictions/complications here: earlier, the ducks were all upset at this idea that new-fangled technological marvels are pushing out the old reliables, but it turns out that the lighthouse itself is pretty high-tech. Maybe it's possible to synthesize past and present in a harmonious way?


Seriously, how cool is it that the museum has an on-site museum? Pretty cool, I'd say! I want to work there.


But alas, then this creep comes and starts smashing shit up. Sometimes, the old ways of screwing over people standing in your way really ARE the best!


Well, but he's not much of an adversary, in the end; he gets beaten like this, and that's the last we see of him, trapped in this antique herring barrel. If that's from the museum, it's probably not a good idea to use it like that. Being that old, it's already got to be pretty fragile, and it seems like it'll almost certainly be damaged.


Up to now, you may well have been thinking: how is this a Christmas story? You berated us for not reminding you of it, but was there any reason we should've been expected to? This is very suspicious! Well, more fool you,I'll say, although granted, I think it would have been a good idea for the time of year to at least to be mentioned in the opening panel, or for a little Christmas dialogue to be included. Barks does just sort of spring it on you all of a sudden, it has to be admitted.

The real question is: what the hell is a "Christmas basket?" Like an Easter basket? That's not a real thing! Is that a real thing? I mean, I know you have the sort of seasonal gift baskets that you get from places like Harry & David with fruits and cheeses and processed meats and whatnot, but is that what's being referred to? Surely that's not something that children would be overly concerned with. Well, maybe this is just one of those weird Duckburg traditions.


Okay, THIS is the last appearance of pig-face dude. We must keep these things straight! I like it when Donald is smart and resourceful like this.


It's a sort of interesting thing: so we want to preserve the lighthouse because even though it's kind of old, it's still of use and has value. But actually, the lighthouse itself turns out to be kinda modern, and our problem is solved by resorting to even older technology, which doesn't relate to how the lighthouse itself normally functions. I'm not sure if there's a coherent statement being made here, but it's interesting to think about.


Anyway, CHRISTMAS IS SAVED! I'm...not sure that "dit" is part of Morse Code, but whatevs!


Sweet ending. The Old Ways canonized by the tree lights! And we get to see these legendary Christmas baskets! I'd sure love to see what's in them, though.

Well, anyway. There you go. I THINK I've done every Barks Christmas story now, but god knows there may be SOME damn thing or other I'm missing. Anyway, Merry Christmas or War on Christmas or whatever holiday you prefer to celebrate. Let's hope that 2020 brings good things.

Barks Christmas One-Pagers

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DIDN'T EXPECT THIS, DID YOU?!?  HA!

Hope you're having a swell Christmas. I was readin' some Barks, as you do, and I realized that there are a handful of one-pagers that I ought to look at if I want to be excruciatingly complete in my coverage of his Christmas output, and why wouldn't I? TELL ME?!? So yeah, let's do this. There are actually more of these than I thought; I assumed that they all would've been reprinted at some point in Gemstone's Christmas Parades, but such is far from the case, so I had to do a bit of digging. I think I got them all, though!


This one appeared in Gemstone's CP4 in black and white...well, I could try to find a colored version, but hey, it's not really Christmas-themed.  It WAS published in the "Luck of the North" one-shot with a few explicit Christmas one-pagers, though, so we'll just stick it here. Note that for some of these, including "Toasty Toys" (our only titled story here!) inducks won't commit to saying Barks was the author, so take that for what it's worth. I dunno; I think it's just kind of mean. Inappropriate for Donald to burn HDL's toys; inappropriate for them to burn his stuff. We often (well, occasionally) see golf clubs used as a sort of stand-in for "Donald hobbies" even though you rarely actually see him playing golf, and he certainly doesn't have any kind of ongoing passion for it. I think this was just because, well, men play golf, supposedly. Mid-century men, anyway. They do in all the dang legacy comic strips of the "Blondie" sort. So...Donald does. Even though he really doesn't. WELL DONE, ALL.


I like this one a lot; this first appeared in the issue with "The Golden Christmas Tree," and I find it a definite step up over that. It seems psychologically accurate: you jump to conclusions and you get yourself all worked up in this kind of vicious circle of resentment and then you end up acting precipitously. But hey, it's Christmas, so you can fix your mistakes! I like Donald imagining himself as an inchworm, but I find the fact that he's ordering them "atom splitting cyclotrons" highly alarming. Do people use particle accelerators as toys? I know nothing about nuclear physics, but it strikes me as...no? Probably? Egads!


Where would we be without holiday-themed violence? I shudder to think. Hard to know what to say about this, really. So when the guy offers Donald the bat, is he just hoping for a line like Donald gives him so he'll have an excuse to retaliate; or if he didn't get one, was he just going to bash him anyway? Given that none of the damage Donald inflicts is intentional or really his fault per se, I'm not sure there's much justification.


Hey, you know what's a thing that exists? Slide projectors. It's a weird thing to say for so trivial a comic, but my brain is kind of disintegrating trying to figure out how this works. Okay, so they need a list that doesn't take up so much paper. It has to fit on a page the size of a stamp. So presumably they write really small. And then...they project it? What exactly is the point of the projection in this equation? How does it matter? Is it because the kids wrote so small that it was impossible to read otherwise? How? And in any event, isn't this list still a hell of a lot shorter than what they were originally planning? If I didn't know better, I might think that very little thought went into this comic.


Okay, I enjoy the kids' looks of excitement, and I like how they just immediatelystart work on disassembling the house. Little anarchists. Still, Donald's response seems entirely fair--more than fair, really; anyone else would just have confiscated the tools entirely. But that, I suppose, would not leave room for a sorta weak joke.


See? Again with the golf. You can tell Barks didn't write this by the word "feller." That just wasn't a word that Barks would use. I don't think. Still, whoever wrote this, it's not terrible. I mean, it's not great either, obviously, but it's a modestly charming slice-of-life thing. Or so I think.


Urgh. So here's the thing about the whole kissing-under-the-mistletoe business: it's a good thing for people who are sort of incipiently romantically involved or who are just kind of flirting and dancing around their mutual attraction. The mistletoe itself is just a flimsy pretext, and that's fine. What's a lot less fine is when you see it weaponized like this: you have to kiss me, whether you like it or not. That's not how it's supposed to work! It's creepily coercive! Mind you, you might think that Donald and Daisy's relationship would be such that it would just be harmless and fun--apparently not, though, per whoever wrote this. Which kinda bums me out, but in that case, I think Daisy's response is entirely appropriate.


Hmm. Yes. This comic definitely exists, I must say. Surely you can find other ornaments, or things to use as ornaments? Whatever! I find the dentures a little bit creepy, and how do you get your fake teeth knocked out anyway? How hard is he barreling through those people? I like "Yak's Thoid Avenue."


This may or may not be written by Barks, but Oh, So? is definitely the most Barksian book title around. I like watching the nephews run amuk with their presents. That's always fun. I also like how equanimous Donald is about the whole situation. He's not really mad; he's just doing what he's gotta do, as indeed are the kids. I very much like the painting of a dour-looking duck military officer. Less so the fruit, but you can't win 'em all. In general, I feel that the duck residence is decorated by a madman.


For my money, this one is the best of the bunch, whether or not it's written by Barks. Sure, the punchline isn't anything that special, omg he took all this trouble to foil them, but then he made the rookie mistake of leaving the boxes where they could see, but the ever-more-excessive efforts to hide them are a lot of fun. Bricking the toy trains in Cask-of-Amontillado-style is especially entertaining to me. I also like the kids' skating poses.  This could easily be expanded to a ten-pager, but it's also fine as it is.

Anyway! That seems to be about it. It's odd to me that--as far as I can tell--Barks did no Christmas Scrooge one-pagers, but there you have it. Enjoy the rest of your holiday(s)!

"Show Biz"

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Been reading some old Western stories, so you have no choice but to endure me writing about them. Sorry; that's JUST how it is! Today's story was originally untitled, but according to inducks, it was dubbed "Show Biz" for its reprint in a later digest. Pretty anemic title, I feel, but it's the best we've got!


This is drawn by Dick Moores, and as we'll see--if we haven't already seen it--it was written by the same person (Moores himself?) who drew that "Dirty Work at the Crossroads" story that I covered an alarming number of years ago: same outmoded idea of contemporary popular culture, same interest in show business, same dialogue that veers between kinda clever and kinda dopey. And, well, they were only published months apart. CASE CLOSED.


I mean, you see what I mean about outmoded popular culture? HDL dressed as barbershop quartet, notwithstanding the obvious issue with that (where's Phooey when you need him?). I'm sure that's what ALL the fifties kids were into. It's kind of bizarre and out-of-character, and yet I can't help finding it sort of interesting and charming just for its strangeness.


Alas, Donald proves extremely unhelpful. JEEZ, dude. Is this like the "tiger mom" thing where instead of putting your kid's drawings on the refrigerator, you brutally shred them for lacking proper control of color and principles of perspective? Regardless. This would be a bad family dynamic in real life, but in fairness, it's actually not that awful here, given how cheerful he seems about the whole thing. Compare it to this,and the difference really comes into focus.


That song they're singing...it's specific enough that I feel like it should be an actual thing, but I have not been successful in googling it. I mean, that first line certainly reminds one of "fare thee well for I must leave thee/do not let the parting grieve thee," and I had no idea until just this minute that the song that come from was called "There Is a Tavern in the Town." But is it something more specific? If it's made up, I really do have to give Moores (or whoever) props. It is, again, surely anachronistic even for the town, but it has a feeling of verisimilitude.

But how 'bout Scrooge's reaction? Somehow, the lack of punctuation in "that's what it is straight corn on the cob" gives this sick burn a sort of rushed, desultory feel. Also, note that Disney characters really don't, in general, have concrete aesthetic preferences. Scrooge thinking this song is corny seems to me to really come out of nowhere. So I suppose we're meant to infer that he prefers the modern-day, up-to-date music that The Kids are grooving to? I dunno.


Sigh, yeah. We're going to have to just get a job. Let's just casually walk past this irrelevant background poster while we look for work.


Yeah, so this. Typical kind of thing. It seems to me that "Pizza Potza" is almost certainly based on/inspired by Enrico Caruso, who had been dead for more than thirty years when this story came out. Another example of our writer living in the past.


That's really all the dialogue we get from Signor Potza. He doesn't really have any sort of characterization, which seems suboptimal. I do like "persistent little demons, aren't we?" another line that is fun yet feels somehow off-character a bit.

But my real point is: the song is called "O sole mio." Of course, there's nothing wrong or unusual with writers messing around with real-life lyrics in their comics stories, but given what a small thing this is, probably unnoticeable to most, doesn't it seem way more likely that the writer just didn't know the title? Hmm.


Okay, this is a kind of typical thing, but it actually works pretty well, whether intentionally or not. But: question! A big question! If Gladstone had no idea that Daisy wanted to go, what are the two tickets for? Does he have another girl on the side, or what? This is obviously something that the writer never thought about; it was just there so Donald couldn't get the tickets. But, I mean...you should think about the implications of what you write before you write it. Or so I believe.


But! I do get a huge kick out of Gladdy's cheerful amorality here. Sure, making Donald jealous and maybe scoring some points with Daisy is fine, but if it's a choice between that and cold hard cash? Not even gonna pretend to feel conflicted about it! She won't get to go! Somehow, in its low-key way, I feel like I've never seen a more scathing portrayal of the character.


How did they get this money? HOW?!?  Well, we'll know soon enough, but skipping forward like this feels very awkward to me. I always sort of trip over it when I'm reading this story ("You always do that? How often to you read this ancient, obscure story anyway" More often than is good for me, I don't doubt).


Right. This is what happened. So we lose out on an opportunity to characterize ol' Pizza in some way. Bah! Though granted, in a ten-page story, I suppose you have to be economical about these things.


What will happen? I like the night coloring and I like two thirds of that bottom left panel--Donald's line strikes me as unnecessarily smug. The fact that they're able to get Daisy to go along with all this...seems more dubious. Just getting Potza to serenade her outside her window seems like it would be more feasible, albeit without quite the same ultimate romantic punch. What can you do?


"O solo mio" AGAIN? Also, somehow, "la la te dum dee" fails to capture the spirit of classical singing. You definitely can't ask too much from a story like this, but I would be SO HAPPY if there were some better lyrics there. "Dalla sua pace?""Una furtiva lagrima?" The possibilities are endless.


So that's that. You have to wonder how late his theatre (note British spelling) appearance is suppose to be if it's happening AFTER this. The conclusion is fine; no problem. Perfectly cute line. Though I do think the story sort of promised to do something with HDL as performers and then never quite delivered.

Regardless, I have a fair bit of nostalgic affection for this story.  I even kind of dig Moores' childish art style.  I have good news if you like it and terrible news if you don't: we're going to see more along these lines here in the near future. Look forward to it with excitement or dread.

"Scrooge McDrooge Wanderer"

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Today we shall look at a storyfrom 1954, and a question you may be asking yourself is, "is it REALLY called 'Scrooge McDrooge Wanderer? Because that does NOT sound like a name for a story." Well, that shows you much YOU know, you insolent clod.

Actually, as is often the case, the story was originally untitled, so I went to look at foreign language titles to see if any would serve. And in Italian, this is called "Paperon de' Paperoni vagabondo," and when you paste that into Google Translate:


There you go. Google Translate does know the names of a number of Disney characters, so this seems to be a mixture of that and something or other with Italian grammar that I really couldn't tell you.


It doesn't know that his first name is "Balthazar," however. In any event, this is all I wanted to say about this story, we're done here, have a good summer vacation, everyone!


I kid, of course. Today's story is bad and dumb, but I wanted to write about it even before I knew about that very mildly amusing naming thing, for a reason that you will soon see. As you can see, it's a Duck Album story, and boy, I don't know. I mean, I do remember that I really, really liked the concept when I was a kid, so obviously it worked on some level, but it still seems like SUCH a bizarre and pointless thing to do when the pictures they show almost universally could never have been taken by anybody. What is the PURPOSE of this concept?!?


We start with this. I suppose it's perhaps at least a LITTLE interesting to see how early writers other than Barks were conceiving of Scrooge as a character. This "there's more to life than money!" stuff really seems like someone not quite sure what kind of rich guy he is; still figuring things out. It IS pretty funny that in this world, he apparently just dumps his money in a giant pile in his living room. Even when Barks showed him having a house separate from the Money Bin, I don't think he ever showed anything quite like that!


Would Scrooge REALLY think of this as so horrible? I mean, sure he sometimes wants to get away from the stress of modern life, but does he ever really want to get away from his money, per se? If he does, he definitely regrets it quickly. "And those hills--oh no! To me they look like ten billion dollars! Okay, I have to admit, there ARE some dopily amusing things here...


He "oughta know"...WHAT, exactly? Well, obviously, that he's a "zillion-billionaire." But that is damned weird way to put that. Anyway, please anticipate the next panel with bated breath...


YES! It's bootleg, floppy-eared Beagle Boys! THAT'S what's worthy of note (if anything is) about this story! Are these the first-ever non-Barks Beagles? That's a question I could easily have answered at one point, but Inducks' character-index-by-date functionality is currently not working, so now it's extremely difficult. That functionality is actually REALLY important for anyone interested in Disney-comics history, so I hope someone's working on fixing it.

At any rate, these guys sure are gormless-looking, especially the one on the right in the bottom left panel. You get the impression that the artist (hi, Phil DeLara!) had maybe at some point seen a picture of a Beagle but didn't remember it too well. Or maybe he just had the impression that "Beagle Boys," as a concept, was more loose and impressionistic than it turned out to be. Regardless: ha ha! Your Beagles look dumb!


Also, they're incredibly timid and useless, it seems. I can't help noting that the ONLY evidence they have that the butler is in fact named "Jeeves" is Scrooge's assertion to that effect. Nobody is impressing me here.


Anyway, he can't get in because ol' Jeeves won't let him. I guess this is at least in keeping with the "everyone is fooled by really obvious disguises" trope. Note that Jeeves too appears to have big floppy ears. Note that this character is for some reason indexed on Inducks, as "Jeeves from W OS 560-3," even though he appears nowhere else. Catchy name, certainly.


Credit where due, it is legit kind of clever of DeLara to have him looking longingly at that bird pulling up a worm. I also like--what can I say; I'm easily-amused--the way those hot dogs the mother and son are holding just look like huge loaves of bread that they're chowing down on. Deeee-licious!


"A trillion-billion." Obviously, the numbers aren't stable when it comes to Scrooge's money, but that still just sounds awkward. Anyway, this is it; this is the end of the story. Heh, heh! "Chomp! Chomp!" looks like it's emanating from the plate instead of Scrooge's mouth. What is that, anyway? Just a big ol' plate of rice?

Well, that was kind of an anti-climax. Bye!

"Scavenger Hunt"

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If you were going to get an old Western issue of Donald Duck, and you couldn't get one of infrequent ones that included Barks stories, I don't think you could do much better than 33-36, which contain mainly Dick Moores-drawn stories that are really truly not half bad, taken for what they are. Both "Dirty Work at the Crossroads" and "Show Biz"come from this period. And I know I just said "mainly Dick Moores-drawn," but thisis Phil DeLara again. I hope you're enjoying or at least basically tolerating these old Western things. I guess it's just a nostalgia kick for me. Sometimes the world gets to be a bit much,you know? You just want to retreat into a more innocent, if dumber, past.

I realize that "Scavenger Hunt" is the most painfully uncreative title you can think of--you may be able to guess what the story is about!--but that's just how it goes. The foreign titles aren't much better, though a few of them are at least weird: inducks lists a Chilean publication called "Donald Duck and the Unexpected Passenger," which DOES relate to the story, kind of, but in a weirdly tangential, beside the point way; if you were describing the story to someone, that would NOT be one of your points of reference. And then we have a Spanish publication called "Cruel Punishment," which, seriously, you've got me. That one's totally inexplicable, unless "Cruel Castigo" has some very specific idiomatic meaning that Google Translate is unaware of. Sure, some of these stories COULD get a bit sadistic in places, but not this one.


So many questions: does Donald really not know what a scavenger hunt is? Is a "scavenger hunt contest" supposed to be somehow different than a plain ol' scavenger hunt? And in what sense is this one "sorta special?" You seem to be describing an extremely normal scavenger hunt.


FIFTY DOLLARS! Now admittedly, that's not chump change; adjusted for inflation, it's almost five hundred. Still, it feels oddly small; I feel to feel substantial, a prize total has to be at least triple digits.

In any event, no prizes for guessing what Donald's gonna do next.


"You couldn't afford a trip to the meat market" is a REALLY strange turn of phrase. I want to think it's an acutal idiomatic expression I'd never heard, but alas, it gets zero google hits. Though by the time you're reading this, that won't be the case. I guess such weirdness is good!  I'd prefer not to contemplate that expression on Gladstone's face in the top right.

But the REAL question is: what the heck kind of trip is he planning on taking for fifty dollars? Sure, that was more in 1954 than it is now but if thisis any indication, still not enough to actually fly anywhere:


I guess he could drive to a nearby modestly-priced resort and spend a few days there, but that seems awfully chintzy, and I don't think it's what's being implied. I really don't know what the writer was thinking, unless they were just severely underestimating the cost of air travel.


This part makes me laugh, because where are they all dashing off to like that? Do they for some reason imagine that all the things they need to find are HERE! In this direction! Gotta get there as quickly as possible, even if we lose our blue top hats! It seems like the writer had the idea that this was a race, and then took that concept literally in a completely nonsensical way. The obvious thing to do is to look at your list of items and think of where you're likely to find them, not to all blast off like a buncha jet-powered lemmings.


See, LOOK at this: apparently, Donald just, like, charged blindly out into the countryside before even bothering to look at his list. Fortunately, his old friend Farmer John can help! Ah yes, Farmer John! That popular recurring character we all know and love. You can really tell that a writer is just frantically improvising when they stick these generic helpful NPCs into their stories. And yet, I have the vague feeling that if they needed to include a farmer in a small role, there might have been someone else they could use? An actual recurring character that maybe even has some relationship to Donald and would make more sense that just a random dude? Oh well. I guess we'll never know.


ANOTHER thing that makes me laugh: so Donald needs these specific things, and Farmer John doesn't have any of them, but he does have other things that are sort of like them. And yeah, Donald later realizes that he can cheat, but before that, he apparently has no idea what to actually do with these items that he so enthusiastically accepted. How did he possibly think having things that were kind of like the things he needed would help him? I swear: I know it's just because of authorial laziness, but the characters in this story are all just behaving in incredibly bizarre and--I think it's fair to say--stupid ways, if you think about it for more than a second.


Sailor Bill, another beloved recurring character! You know him: he's a swell guy! How could you forget? Seriously, man, ONE of these stock characters is bad enough; two just seems excessive.


See? You know his name is Sailor Bill because his...house? Place of business? is labeled "Sailor Bill's Place." Though given that this "building" actually just looks like a flat facade, I'm a little suspicious of this whole thing.


How come they need four things whereas Donald only needs three? Seems unfair. Also, everyone else is seemingly working alone, so how come they're allowed to be a team? Just because they're always together and splitting them up would be inconceivable? All things considered, it's probably not useful to fixate on these tiny issues.


Yeah, so this would be the "unexpected passenger" bit, if you'll cast your mind back to the beginning of this entry. Well, it is what it is, and it's a good thing it's not real life, or they would've broken that poor goat's back by dropping on him like that. I mean, probably. What do you think they weigh? I know stories are not consistent on whether they're mean to have human-ish weights or be more like actual waterfowl. But at a minimum, you've gotta think, like, ten pounds each, yeah? That'd be enough to flatten a goat.


Maybe this isn't worth thinking about--okay, obviously nothing here is worth thinking about, but you know--but I can't help wondering about the mechanics of Donald and Gladstone hitting the finish line. We see them running towards it from opposite directions, but, like, what are the exact mechanics of there being a "tie?" They simultaneously break the tape from opposite directions? Well, we'll never know, because good ol' DeLara opted not to show us this pivotal moment, probably having realized that he wasn't able to picture it in his head any better than I was. Whee.


Boy, who could've seen that coming? Also, is the fifty dollars all in the form of small change? I don't see how else it could fill up that bag like that. It's really quite a childish idea of what "money" looks like. Surely the author knew better; did they do it like this to appeal specifically to childish sensibilities? Or was it just lazy received wisdom about what money should be? The world may never know, although it has a pretty good guess.


Well yes anyway, Gladstone doesn't win either onaccounta he "borrowed" the monkey from an Italian organ-grinder stereotype, so here's the ending: this completely out-of-nowhere trip to the amusement park (do you think being forced to ride a rollercoaster is the "cruel punishment" in question?). I mean, okay, amusement parks are fun, granted, but shouldn't the ending bear at least some connection with the rest of the story? I mean, even if HDL had just expressed a desire earlier in the story to go to the swell new amusement park that's opening, that at least would be something. But no! Just this and a limp gag about backseat drivers!

Do you think DeLara ever imagined that someone would one day write a fifteen-hundred-word article on this dumb little story he drew (and possibly wrote; who knows)? I wonder if he'd be honored or just bemused. Probably the latter. Here's the weird thing: Barks stories are sometimes sort of too smartif what you're looking for is escape. Sure, they were written for kids, but they have sophisticated plots with nuanced characters and rich subtexts, so if you read them as an adult, you can't help but engage with them on a deeper level than you did as a child. Not so here: with these non-Barks things, there's no other way to read them; they are purely childish pursuits, and you're forced to sort of engage with them as such. I mean okay obviously I mock them in a decidedly not-childish way (OKAY OKAY it IS childish in a sense, but not as-a-child, if you see the distinction), but I still read them differently than Barks, and, secretly, I actually sort of enjoy them.  Well, some of them.  Some are just utterly meritless even by the most lenient standards.  You decide which category this one falls into.  But anyway, this nonsense is what you get, as opposed to a differentkind of nonsense. Please enjoy, because, god help me, there's more coming.
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