Meet Casey, Hiawatha and Other Greats in Walt Disney's Timeless Tales: Volume Three

I love classic Disney cartoons, so I was happy to find the Walt Disney’s Timeless Tales series on Netflix recently. Volume Three includes two Disney shorts I’ve long loved, along with four others that I think I may have seen once, or at least heard of, but that might just be because three of the stories were familiar and the other was similar to one of my favorite Mickey, Donald and Goofy shorts. That last one is the only one of the six that, as far as I can tell, is a wholly original story; the rest are based on established poems, folktales and American history (or, more to the point, fictional adaptations thereof). It’s a nice collection of cartoons from the mid-1930s to 1950; some of them do feel a bit dated, but they are a lot of fun to watch.

Casey at the Bat (1946) – Ernest Thayer’s tragi-comic ballad upon which this is based has always been a favorite poem of mine. I’m not big into sports, and I’ve never had any team loyalties beyond rooting for Penn State, but I do like baseball. I enjoy getting out to the ballgame at some point during the summer if I can, where I can watch the game proceed at its rather leisurely pace and usually have a pretty good idea of what’s going on. I love all the elements that come together to make this an edge-of-your seat tale that’s at the same time pretty easy to memorize and bust out around the campfire or other appropriate occasion.

The Disney version features narration by Jerry Colonna and lots of visual humor depicting Casey as an overgrown oaf and everyone else at the fateful baseball game as pretty ridiculous in some way or another. An opening song includes a line about the ladies at the ballpark not knowing a hit from a strike, which I find a bit insulting; all the female fans are gussied up and swooning over the ballplayers but don’t have a clue what’s going on. Though I don’t know, in the thick of things, they seem pretty into it to me. The ball players themselves are a bundle of quirks, and all of them have a tendency to sweat profusely, a la Striker attempting to fly the plane in the comedy Airplane!. The short is just over eight minutes long and is a fun, pretty straightforward take on the classic poem; I know it also spawned a sequel in the 1950s, which I hope to see one of these days. I don’t know when I first saw this one, but it’s probably what introduced me to the poem in the first place and is a definite Disney classic.

Little Hiawatha (1937) – This was another short I’d seen many times, as we’d taped it once during a stint of taping old Disney cartoons during the Duck Presents program on the Disney channel. It uses bits of the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem about Hiawatha, but the majority of it is wordless and has little to do with the poem. In this short, Hiawatha is just a youngster who looks like he can’t be much more than five. He wants to appear fierce with his bow and arrow, but that’s tough when his pants keep falling down every time he turns around. There are some silly pratfalls here, but ultimately it becomes a story of compassion and cooperation as he manages to corner a young rabbit, then decides to let him go free, thus earning the loyalty of the woodland creatures, who come to his aid when a bear attacks him.

This is probably my favorite cartoon of the six. The animation is beautiful, and the interaction between Hiawatha and the animals is wonderful, both before and after his encounter with the rabbit. The choreography of the bear chase is especially well done and reminds me of playing the Jungle Book Super Nintendo game, where everything in the jungle has to be lined up just so in order for Mowgli to successfully continue on his journey. Talk about a community effort! And in this short, which came out around the same time as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, it’s easy to see the similarities to Whistle While You Work. Three cheers for the woodland brigade!

The Wise Little Hen (1934) – I’ve always been a fan of the story The Little Red Hen, with the conscientious hen who can’t get any of her fellow farm animals to help her out with her planting project. This is a fun short as well, and it’s notable because it marks the entrance of Donald Duck, played by Clarence Nash. But it’s also just a bit grating. That’s because everybody is borderline incomprehensible. Donald always is, of course, and it’s part of what makes him endearing, but one of the reasons it works is because he’s almost always complaining about something. Somehow the quacking just fits really well. Pinto Colvig plays Peter Pig, whose voice is a strange combination of guttural oinking noises and a German accent. His voice annoys me more than Donald’s.

But the one that really bugs me is Florence Gill’s Wise Little Hen. I suppose that this is mostly because she does the vast majority of the talking – or, rather, singing various annoying verses of Help Me Plant My Corn. I’d be tempted to refuse her just so I wouldn’t have to listen to that voice – and because if I didn’t know the story, I probably would have no idea what she was asking. It’s a very cute cartoon. But boy, does a little of that clucking go a long way.

The Golden Touch (1935) – Another familiar story, though like the preceding cartoon, I can’t say for sure if I’d ever seen it before. It recounts the story of a greedy king (Billy Bletcher) whose only delight is in counting his gold coins like a proto-Uncle Scrooge. When a mischievous sprite comes along to tempt him with the Golden Touch, he succumbs immediately. In some versions of the story, it’s obvious that the supernatural being’s main aim is to teach Midas a lesson about what’s important in life. Here, that’s not so clear, since he stands to gain from the king’s realization that the Golden Touch isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

The odd thing is that we don’t see how any of this affects anyone except the king’s poor cat, who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. What exactly is this man a king of? He seems to live in complete isolation. And what happens to everyone in his kingdom after he trades away everything he owns to his mysterious visitor? Or maybe he’s only a king in his own mind… Still, it’s pretty entertaining to see him turning things gold left and right, especially during the dramatic dinner scene when he realizes what a problem this is going to be.

Morris the Midget Moose (1950) – An interesting story of the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer variety. Except in this case, there are two “defective” creatures, and it’s their cooperation with each other that makes them able to thrive. Morris is tiny but has regular-sized antlers. When he meets Balsam, a regular moose with tiny antlers, they team up to defeat the ferocious Thunderclap, who is the established dominant moose in the group.

This cartoon reminds me quite a bit of the 1937 Mickey / Donald / Goofy cartoon Moose Hunters, mostly because in both shorts, we see two moose ferociously fighting each other by locking antlers and tossing each other to the ground. Things don’t end so well for our intrepid hunters on that occasion. Thankfully, Morris and Balsam get a rather happier conclusion. This short also marks the last appearance of the wise character Bootle Beetle. A bit odd, perhaps, that a beetle is telling stories about a moose… But I guess he’s been around enough to have experience with plenty of species beyond his fellow insects. A cute cartoon.

Ben and Me (1953) – Twice as long as the next-longest cartoon on the DVD, this one is based on a book by Robert Lawson. The basic idea is that Ben Franklin was not such a brilliant American after all. Rather, he just happened to get together with an ingenious mouse. This humble fellow named Amos is voiced by Sterling Holloway, best known as the voice of Winnie the Pooh, and the lilting, relaxing quality of his voice is just as present here. I just love listening to him speak. Charles Ruggles provides the voice of Ben, who comes off as entirely addled. I also got a kick out of hearing the voice of Hans Conried, who I know best as the voice of Thorin Oakenshield in the Rankin and Bass version of The Hobbit, playing Thomas Jefferson.

While it’s nearly 60 years old, this short is still the most recent thing on the DVD, and both that and the fact that it is set in such a definite time period make it feel like the least dated of the cartoons here. If it were made today, I’m not sure that too many things would have changed. There’s excellent attention to detail as we see Amos and Ben in Revolutionary times and watch as history gets just a bit skewered. Here, Amos has a humble hand (or paw) in the creation of the Franklin stove, bifocals, The Pennsylvania Gazette and even the Declaration of Independence. A very clever and comical little ode to an important chapter in American history probably best appreciated by slighter older kids, as 21 minutes is a bit on the long side and it’s funnier if you know some of the background already.

You can watch all six of these in one sitting as I did or dole them out one at a time. Either way, while some of these shorts show their age just a bit, Walt Disney’s Timeless Tales: Volume Three is a great collection for any fan of classic Disney cartoons.

The Mini Chicken N' Egg Keychain Does Not Represent Hugo or LOST Well

Last week, I received an e-mail from ABC’s LOST store informing me that anyone who purchased an item would, while supplies last, receive a free Mr. Cluck’s keychain. For those who haven’t watched LOST, this is the name of the fried chicken franchise owned by Hugo, otherwise known as Hurley, the show’s lovable, unassuming millionaire. As Hugo is probably my favorite character on the show and I’d already been planning to buy his bobblehead anyway, I decided to go ahead and bite. I put in my order, and then I put it out of my mind, since the bobbleheads don’t actually come out for another month or so.

But a few days later, I received a box in the mail. It was a box of a fairly decent size, nearly as big as a shoebox, but it contained one tiny keychain of about three inches in length, two inches from wingtip to wingtip. After I’d rolled my eyes over the excessive packaging, I examined my acquisition. I must not have been paying proper attention, since I was under the impression that this keychain would feature the Mr. Cluck’s logo of a smiling yellow chicken head, probably on a flat metal keychain. After all, the store sells Mr. Cluck’s t-shirts, and this is the design they use. If there was a picture of what the actual keychain looked like, I missed it.

So I was surprised when I realized that my chicken keychain had no specific connection to LOST. Instead, it came with a generic tag that reads “Mini Chicken n’ Egg Backpack Clip”. What’s more, aside from yellow coloring, this chicken bears no resemblance to the Mr. Cluck’s chicken.

This little bird is a three-dimensional, rubbery creature suspended from a metal chain with a clip on the end. It has a small red comb and wattle; I would take it to be a rooster, except that it has a strange mechanism whereby you squeeze the middle and a vaguely egg-like bubble pushes through a hole between the chicken’s legs. Depending on the angle at which it is pushed, this egg appears either yellow or milky white. I didn’t discover this feature immediately, and I initially found it rather novel, but upon further thought, it struck me as gross.

The chicken also features gangly, bright red feet that stick straight out, and there’s a reddish line going down the front, along with reddish coloring on the puny wings and tail. On its head is a pair of bright blue eyes with black dots for pupils. For the most part, though, this chicken is yellow, and it is covered in tiny bumps. It’s clammy to the touch; there are no feathers in sight, so this is evidently a dead chicken that has retained the skill of egg-laying. A zombie chicken, I suspect, which I suppose is appropriate for the final season of LOST, which has often been jokingly referred to as The Zombie Season. But I sure hope this stringy, undead, thoroughly hideous chicken is not indicative of what goes into Hugo’s chicken buckets. Gotta tell you, dude, that’s pretty poor advertising.

To top it all off, I noticed the other day that a two-dollar charge for this “free LOST keychain” had turned up on my card. I didn’t even request the chicken; I would imagine that some people would have gotten to check-out without realizing that this was a part of their order. Had I known that I would be charged an extra two dollars so they could unnecessarily ship it early, and had I realized that this keychain was so ugly that I would almost pay someone to take it off my hands, I certainly would have bought my bobble from Entertainment Earth instead. That’s what I get for being seduced by “freebies”. But that’s a complaint with the ABC store, not the manufacturer of this tiny terror.

If you know someone who has an irrational fear of chickens, perhaps this would make a morbid gag gift. Otherwise, I can’t recommend it, and certainly not for the going rate of nearly $4.50. If you hope to have a “cluckity-cluck day,” I suggest you seek out the company of more sophisticated fowl.

Rosie's Walk Is a Liability for a Hungry Fox

Foxes and poultry. It’s an age-old rivalry, and it’s come up time and again in children’s literature, whether it’s Jemima Puddleduck nearly being taken in by a wily red-haired stranger or a trio of resourceful biddies using their eggs as weapons against their long-snouted invaders. In Rosie’s Walk, a 1968 picture book by Pat Hutchins, the fox doesn’t stand a chance against Rosie - even though she is completely oblivious to his presence.

Rosie’s Walk is a book that depends almost entirely upon visuals. The text consists of exactly one sentence. Granted, it’s a bit of a run-on, with 32 words and a slew of prepositional phrases, but still, that’s not much writing to hang a story on. The print is thin, black and quite large, and with the exception of the first two-page spread and the final page, we never see more than three words at a time. Rosie walks across, around, over, past, through and under, opening up an opportunity to discuss spatially-oriented words with children, much the way the Berenstain Bears’ Inside, Outside, Upside-Down does.

But the real fun of the story is in the pictures. That single sentence by itself isn’t likely to get any child’s attention without the illustrations, which are stark and stylized, having almost a stained-glass look to them. The outlines are thick and the colors are bold. There’s no blue or purple to be found; this is all reds, oranges, yellows and greens, with the occasional brown tossed it for good measure.

The fox who pursues Rosie the hen on her leisurely stroll is never named in the text, but he is certainly the most dynamic character. As Rosie nonchalantly trots along, she inadvertently sets a series of traps for her would-be captor. When she saunters past a rake, he walks right into it, and it smacks him in the face. She makes her way lightly over the haystack, but when he tries it, he sinks. Each segment of the story shows the fox about to attempt whatever Rosie just did, while the next two-page spread shows him failing miserably.

Take your time reading this one so there’s a chance to guess at what exactly will befall the fox next. The disasters intensify as the story goes on, so that by the time the beehives show up, you just know there’s no chance of this poor predator achieving his goal. In fact, he’ll be lucky to emerge from his ordeal with his limbs intact. This is a fairly quiet farmyard, with no livestock milling about, unless you count the single goat who seems to eye the fox with amusement. But there are several small animals just out enjoying nature as Rosie is, so there’s ample opportunity for identification. Keep an eye out for a butterfly, a pair of frogs, a bird, two mice, a grasshopper and a cheeky groundhog.

This quaint book is one of many that I’ve discovered thanks to 1001 Children’s Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up, a gift given to me by a fellow lover of quality children’s literature. Rosie’s Walk, ideal for youngsters around the preschool range, certainly qualifies.

An Amelia Bedelia-ish Chicken Examines Christmas in Minerva Louise on Christmas Eve

Chickens are animals I generally associate with Easter: patient hens laying eggs upon eggs to be whisked away for coloring and eating, roosters crowing in the bright new morning. Aside from the Three French Hens in The 12 Days of Christmas, though, I rarely think of them in conjunction with Christmas. So Janet Morgan Stoeke’s Minerva Louise on Christmas Eve was an interesting find.

Minerva Louise is a cheerful white hen with a red comb atop her head. She wanders about her festively decorated farm with an air of exuberant innocence that reminds me of Amelia Bedelia, Peggy Parish’s popular maid who is notoriously incapable of following simple instructions properly.

Nobody asks Minerva to follow any instructions. No, her self-appointed task is simply to observe. So that’s what she does, looking at everything with a fresh pair of eyes. Where most readers see a string of Christmas lights wrapped around an outdoor evergreen, Minerva sees fireflies “all dressed up in party colors”. Instead of an angel atop the tree inside, she sees a pretty white hen. But that’s nothing compared to her reaction to Santa Claus, his “truck” with the wheels that fell off and his team of “goats” in fancy horns.

I love Minerva’s attitude of wide-eyed wonder throughout the book as well as her protective instincts when she fears that Santa Claus is depriving her farmer’s family of their breakfast and unloading his junk in their living room. And as a fan of Harry Potter in general and the marvelous Minerva McGonagall in particular, I love her name, which she also shares with my Build-a-Bear hippo.

The pictures, which take up most of each page, are fairly flat and simplistic but still eye-catching, with Minerva herself a very entertaining part of every picture. For a chicken with so few features, she is surprisingly expressive!

What I’m not crazy about is the lack of quotation marks, which makes it hard to keep track of what is dialogue and what is narration. Cormac McCarthy can throw the rules of punctuation to the wind if he so chooses, but do we really want kindergarteners just learning the ropes to have to struggle through that? At least the confusion comes in small doses, with one or two lines in large print at the bottom of each page.

I also think that the ending, while cute, is rather abrupt. Nonetheless, Minerva Louise is a lovable enough character that I would recommend her Christmas story to others and am anxious to check out her other books for myself.

A Considerate Farmer Makes Animals' Dreams Come True in Dream Snow

When it comes to crafting artistic, interactive, creative picture books, Eric Carle is truly a master. Whether it’s the expanding size of the Very Hungry Caterpillar or the long-awaited chirp of the Very Quiet Cricket, his books, while immediately recognizable as his from his unique style incorporating layers of colored paper, always seem to hold a surprise or two.

Carle’s books tend to be short on words, and this is no exception, with a couple of sentences per page the norm. The story concerns an affable farmer with a rotund figure and a bushy white beard. Modeled after Carle’s friend Barry Moser, the man also happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain jolly old elf. Before the story ends, that similarity will come in handy.

The main portion of this book is very repetitious, as it involves the farmer, while asleep, dreaming of snowflakes that “gently covered” someone “with a white blanket.” At first, that someone is him. Then it’s each of his five animals (One, Two, Three, Four and Five). By the time he awakes, the snow is real, and it’s time for him to pull on his winter gear and provide a surprise for his barn-dwelling friends.

Carle first shows these creatures in their barn, with just their backs or bottoms visible through the windows, but this glimpse should be enough to tell readers which animal is which; they should, for instance, be able to tell that the horse is the first animal under that blanket of snow in the farmer’s dream. If they don’t remember that far back or feel like checking, they might try guessing based on the shape of the “blanket”.

The bulk of the story features just that quick succession of three pages several times over. One sentence in italics in the middle of a white page. One full-color illustration featuring a horse, a cow, a sheep, a pig or a chicken. And in between the two, a clear plastic sheet featuring a large white splotch and several smaller, snowflake-sized splotches. There is also a surprise at the end of the book, one that requires batteries. It’s a fun element, though it doesn’t add a great deal to the story, and it also makes less sense than the plastic snow pages.

If you’re a fan of Carle’s style or know a youngster who is, I recommend giving his original Christmas tale a look. I don’t think it will ever quite match the classic status of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but Dream Snow should satisfy those who already appreciate Carle’s work.

Don't Cast Away This Crop of Movies From 2000

It's funny to look a few years back and realize how few releases I've seen from that year. I would think that all the extra time would've given me plenty of opportunity to catch up, but by my reckoning I've only seen about 15 releases from 2000. So I certainly can't call this a definitive list, but I really did love these ten movies.

Cast Away - I've always had a special fondness for castaway stories, and Tom Hanks has long been one of my favorite actors. Reuniting him with the Forrest Gump dream team for a lost-on-an-island drama sounded like a formula for success to me, and boy, did it deliver. I'm still a little surprised Hanks didn't win for his demanding performance, which includes that grueling stretch of time with no one to talk to but a volleyball. And so compelling is Hanks that he makes Wilson's eventual departure rank high among my list of most tragic movie moments.

Almost Famous - This one caught my attention when I heard Simon and Garfunkel's America on the previews. When I saw it, I got an even heftier dose of my favorite band when the aspiring young music journalist purchased Bookends, and his horrified mother, hilariously portrayed by Frances McDormand, exclaimed that she could tell just from the album cover that they were on drugs. Simon and Garfunkel references aside, I would still be a big fan of this film that offers an inside look at the music business and the perils of potentially losing one's integrity in the pursuit of fame. In many ways it's like Tom Hanks' That Thing You Do!, but darker. Nonetheless, it ends on a pretty uplifting note.

Chicken Run - I love Wallace and Gromit, so I was excited to learn that the team that created that lovable duo would be doing a full-length film. Ultimately, I think Chicken Run is my favorite of all their projects. I spent much of the movie laughing hysterically; these bird-brained biddies are full of great one-liners, and the puns are relentless. The kids' meal tie-in toys and the more elaborate contraptions we snagged from the bargain bin that Christmas are great fun as well.

Fantasia 2000 - I always found Fantasia a strange animal, but there are segments of it I really love. Of course, one of those is The Sorcerer's Apprentice, which is repeated in the 2000 version. As for the rest, on the whole, I like the new segments even better than those in the original. Some of the animation is simply stunning, particularly during Pines of Rome, which features a magnificent pod of flying whales. Other favorites are The Carnival of the Animals, featuring an irrepressible flamingo who annoys the other members of his flock; Piano Concerto Number 2 in F Major, which is the backdrop for a cheerier version of Hans Christian Andersen's Steadfast Tin Soldier; and Pomp and Circumstance, which has a sweet and funny love story between Donald and Daisy Duck taking place on Noah's Ark.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas - The story of the Grinch competes only with The Lorax as my favorite Seuss story, so I was excited to see it come to the big screen. Though it is, in many ways, different from the book and animated special, I guess it was probably necessary to change the focus a bit in order to stretch it out to an hour and a half. The end result is pretty much the same, and along the way we get some absolutely dazzling visuals and the thoroughly endearing performance of Taylor Momsen as Cyndi Lou Who. Oh, and Jim Carrey makes a pretty convincing Grinch.

Miss Congeniality - Despite a fairly lame romantic subplot, this tale of a tomboy forced to go undercover at a beauty pageant is funny and touching. Sandra Bullock is terrific throughout, while Heather Burns is terribly sweet as the ditzy girl-next-door type she befriends. Michael Caine in a gentle mentorly role and William Shatner as a lovable doofus antagonized by Candice Bergen (prefiguring Boston Legal?) add considerable charm to this comedy.

My Dog Skip - A coming-of-age drama about a boy and his dog, it's a family film for the most part, though it does get to be a bit dark in places. All the elements of a great kid-and-animal-companion film are here, and not only is the Jack Russell made famous on Frasier clever and adorable, but young Frankie Muniz turns in an impressive performance that is sometimes emotionally heavy, particularly in scenes with Kevin Bacon as his strict dad and Luke Wilson as the troubled young man the boy idolizes.

Pay It Forward - I saw this one solely because of Haley Joel Osment, who became a good enough excuse for me to see any movie after I saw him in The Sixth Sense. He's terrific here as a slightly older boy with some similar issues; he lives alone with an overworked mom, he's not particularly popular with his peers, and he's angry. In this case, the root of his rage is not supernatural; he's upset with his mom for drinking so much and is worried that she might take back his abusive father. Like Cole, he finds a confidant in an older man, a disfigured teacher portrayed by Kevin Spacey, and a purpose in a brainwave that involves a pyramid scheme of random acts of kindness.

Remember the Titans - I'm not much of a sports buff, but I do love a good inspirational sports movie. This based-on-a-true-story film about a football coach struggling to racially integrate his team, in which many of the players are deeply prejudiced, is a powerful testament to the power of close human interaction in breaking down barriers. A stellar soundtrack and great performances from a cast that includes Denzel Washington and a pre-cheerleader Hayden Panettiere help make the Titans very easy to remember.

The Tigger Movie - This was almost certainly the most heavily advertised and merchandised of the various Pooh movies that have come out in recent years. Its clever posters and toys with the various characters dressed up in Tigger costumes were great fun; one of my favorite finds on my trip to England the following year was a nearly complete set of Happy Meal toys with the Hundred-Acre Wood residents all decked out in stripes. The movie is fun and bouncy but also sweet and reflective as Tigger discovers that his friends are his family, so he needn't feel too lonely as the only one of his kind. I love the new songs, with input by notable Pooh fan Kenny Loggins, and the tear-jerking tenderness of the conclusion. It's ever so much better than Piglet's Big Movie. If they ever get around to making a movie that revolves around Eeyore, I hope it turns out as well as this one.

I could definitely stand to see a few more movies from 2000, but I still think this is a fine representation of some of the best 2000 had to offer, especially for a softie like me.

Chicken-Dancing Elmo Takes Irritation to New Heights

Over the summer, my friend Libbie had a yard sale, and I was more than happy to give her my patronage - though given her generous nature, she wouldn't let me pay for anything I picked up except for the glass of lemonade I bought from her niece. So with my wallet scarcely depleted, I ventured around the block, dropping my dimes and quarters for a Pooh book here, a plush Meeko the raccoon there. I came home laden with bags full of beautiful shmoo, none of which I know what to do with. But the most glorious unnecessary purchase of all was something I snagged for a dollar in a garage where one of the women running the sale bemoaned its departure and another cheered heartily. My treasure? A Chicken Dance Elmo.

Sometimes, I just have to release that inner two-year-old. This is the same 26-year-old who gets a charge out of randomly blowing the quacking whistle she procured on a trip to Baltimore despite not actually riding on the amphibious tour bus for which it was a souvenir. Maybe I have a strange obsession with waterfowl, though I suspect it has more to do with an occasional fondness for annoying noise, and Elmo singing the Chicken Dance song certainly qualifies. I've loved the Chicken Dance all my life; it's always the part of the skating party or dance or wedding reception I most look forward to. But with Elmo's rather grating voice, which has grown increasingly tiresome since the Tickle Me Elmo craze and the brazen attempt by Elmo's World to take over Sesame Street, this is not a song you want to go on for several verses.

It doesn't help that although Elmo is dressed in a fuzzy chicken suit - albeit of a canary-yellow shade - he appears to be confused as to which animal he is representing. "Elmo wants to be a chicken! Elmo wants to be a duck!" he cries out gleefully, while I scratch my head, wondering what ducks have to do with anything and whether this might be a surreptitious trick of my subconscious, trying to get me to sneak in a couple toots on the duck whistle, which would clash so flagrantly with Elmo's dulcet tones. But then I am distracted by Elmo's dancing, which is reassuringly clunky; even I am more graceful than him, and am capable of performing each of the steps of the chicken dance, not just the wing-flapping and the awkward head-lolling between which he laughingly alternates.

It took me a while to find the right way to get Elmo in gear, but eventually I hit upon just the right spot on his left big orange bird foot, and away he went, while a press on the right foot yielded a surfeit of clucking. At the moment, he's been banished to the basement, but one of these days I'll bring him up again. Maybe for Halloween. He's in costume. And he's scary. And I'm scary, for bringing this startling contraption into my house. How long will he stay? Until his four AA batteries run out? Until Christmas rolls around and I think of some charming child a little closer to the age range of Elmo's intended audience, whose parent I don't particularly need to remain on friendly terms with? Who could forgive me for such a gift?

No, I think it's best I hang onto it myself, and bring it out only in times of intolerable silence. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a duck whistle...