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"Сгорели Шерсть" ("Burned Fur"): A Review [Feb. 11th, 2007|01:39 pm]
"Сгорели Шерсть" ("Burned Fur") (1971, Moldavia)

One of the least known of Adrian Vonner's oeuvre this frankly sadistic cartoon was never shown due to the State Censor ruling that it contained "unacceptable satire" and that it "mocked the proletariat" and has been painstakingly restored from Vonner's original workprint.

The story concerns a rat only ever referred to as "The Rat" who has moved to the woods from the big city for unstated reasons, accompanied by a coterie of fawning admirers. He is an inveterate snob and elitist, these qualities being indicated by his oversized hornrimmed spectacles and beret, and his overbearing attitude towards the woodland inhabitants.

He fancies himself as an artist but his "artworks" are bizarre crayon scribblings which his sycophantic friends acclaim as "Most modern!" "Just like Picasso!" and so on. Anyone who fails to show the proper degree of adulation is dismissed as "rabble" and "uncultured" and he occupies himself with violently criticizing the artistic efforts of the animals as "sick" and "filth", on one occasion implaing an unlucky rabbit on its own paintbrush. The Rat's closest confidante is a female rat who displays a most distressing tendency to snap at the unwary when she isn't running around thrusting peculiar pamphlets into the paws of the animals.

The popular Mr Squeakypony makes a cameo appearance, simply surveying the ongoing hullabaloo and sadly shaking his head before bouncing off.

The Rat's superiority complex reaches staggering heights of fatuity when he decides that he has nothing at all in common with the locals and that in fact he and his friends are somehow not animals at all. They decide that fur itself is inherently gross and disgusting and that they must be rendered hairless to demonstrate their superiority. Unfortunately the over-clever Rat has decided that the best way to get rid of unwanted hair is to singe it off and disaster results, with the animals running round ablaze, yelling and squeaking until finally subsiding into a pile of smoking carcasses.

Enter Mr Wolf, who stands looking at the charred remnants of the unfortunate Rat and his followers before turning to his spouse and saying, "I think I'm too late." Whereupon the long-suffering feline slaps his face and storms off.
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Mr Squeakypony meets Herr Pin: A Review [Nov. 25th, 2006|02:59 pm]

"Mr Squeakypony meets Herr Pin" (1973, Moldavia)

This is the final and perhaps most disturbing of animator Adrian Vonner's animations featuring his character Xydexx, star of the cult 1970s Moldavian animations "Mr Squeakypony", "Mr Squeakypony Saves the Day" and "Mr Squeakypony goes to Town". Despite his grandiose monicker, which brings to mind a prescription anti-depressant or perhaps a maliciously-inclined space robot, Xydexx is in fact an inflatable pink rubber toy pony1. He possesses an irritatingly high-pitched squeaker through which he communicates with his furry friends, who seem to have no difficulty comprehending the bizarre noises which emanate from him.

Despite being his reassuring hue and altogether fey manner, he is characterised as a somewhat unpredictable and possibly even terrifying figure, with exasperated mothers being heard to caution their unruly offspring, “Eat up all your peas or Xydexx will come huggle you!”

Xydexx’s nemesis is the dreadful “Herr Pinn”, who is frequently mentioned in tones of awe and horror as being “on his way”, but who is never actually arrives until this traumatic animation, in which he turns out to be an anthropomorphic thumbtack with a very poor German accent who is the sworn foe of everything cute and sweet and caring and so forth. It is never explained just why he has such an obsession with Xydexx, but the Freudian symbology is so blatant it hardly bears going into here.

When Xydexx finally meets his long-foreshadowed nemesis the results are dramatic. The misfortunate pony explodes like a balloon full of nitroglycerine, with shreds of pink rubber slapping obscenely across the faces of the horrified witnesses to this cartoon carnage, and one unsuspecting rabbit accidentally inhales the late Xydexx’s squeaker. His well-meaning animal friends attempt to dislodge the foreign body from his throat by shaking him, hanging him by his heels, etcetera, with no result except increasingly panicked squeaking. They progress to more and more extreme methods to dislodge the errant squeaker from the choking and spluttering and madly squeaking rabbit, Xydexx’s horrible fate entirely forgotten by now, finally making the mistake of appealing to the famously maladroit Mr Wolf who has been watching these goings-on from the sidelines in mute amazement accompanied by his feline wife.

Mr Wolf holds the afflicted rabbit up by his ears and shakes him so that he squeaks, then shrugs and gapes his mouth to terrifying dimensions and swallows the unfortunate rabbit whole in less time than it takes to describe. The animals stare at him in horror and he looks back at them with his usual ineffectual expression, before suddenly hiccuping, with a hideous strangled squeak. His long-suffering spouse slaps him across the face in disgust, then the assembled animals recover their wits and chase him squeaking out of town as the credits roll.

1. Xydexx possesses an undeniable horn which would seem to make him a unicorn, but the horn is never mentioned in any of the animations in which he appears and Vonner himself has always referred to him as "the little squeaky horse".
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Mr Wolf's Wedding: A Review [Oct. 25th, 2006|07:04 pm]

"Mr Wolf's Wedding" (1967, Moldavia)

The animation is delightfully wonky and appears to have been put together by the same team of eccentric Eastern European animators under the directorship of Adrian Vonner1 who assembled such Cold War triumphs of the animator's art as "The Bear and the Wedding Dress", the inimitable "Mr Squeakypony" series2, and the cult favorite "Mr Wolf's Honeymoon"3.

The eponymous Mr Wolf is a lackadaisical and mangy specimen who affects cumbersome sunglasses and a tough-guy manner in his dealings with the denizens of his forest, all of whom clearly put little or no stock in his overblown utterances as is conveyed brilliantly by the eye-rolling squirrel, whose sceptical eyes actually roll right out of his furry little head and get stolen by a crow.

Mr Wolf gets the full and astonished attention of his woodland pals, however, when he announces that he is getting married and they are all invited. Indeed, some of the more nervous animals such as the mouse and the ferret faint clean away. And who is the future Mrs Wolf? None other than Ms Cat, a dumpy and unwholesome-looking feline with a French accent who seems to be in a perpetual daze.

The animation team pay tribute to their uproarious "The Bear and the Wedding Dress" by having Mr Bear attend the wedding at the back of the crowd - still wearing the infamous dress.

A word of advice: never, ever, watch "Mr Wolf's Wedding" while under the influence of psychoactive substances.

1. Artist and writer, and author of several German-language articles dealing with the interesting topics of otherkin and therianthropy from a Jungian viewpoint. Best known for his notorious animation, "The Bear and the Wedding Dress: A Silesian Folktale". Herr Vonner is currently engaged in the treatment of species dysphoria with Orgone Therapy.
2. To be the subject of a future post.
3. All extant prints of "Mr Wolf's Wedding" were destroyed by order of the East German State Censor in 1981, except for a single 8mm copy which somehow made it across the Iron Curtain and surfaced in the West the following year.
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(no subject) [Oct. 25th, 2004|08:30 pm]
Person 1:Forgive my ignorance, but who is Anon? x_x
Person 2:I believe it stands for "anonymous." It means when you don't know who said it.
Me:Or they could be referring to the Egyptian deity Anon, or "the nameless one" who was one of the few non-animal headed Egyptian gods.
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Dude! [Oct. 1st, 2004|07:27 pm]
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Hmmm(ler) [Sep. 28th, 2004|05:22 am]
Having enjoyed Himmler for the Visually Oriented immensely I perceive a bursting need for certain other Nazi sites:

  • Himmler for the Visually Impaired

  • Himmler for the Clinically Insane

  • Himmler for Fun and Profit

  • The Nazi Shoe Museum

  • The Furred Reich

  • Cats of the Third Reich

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Get a life, you say? [Sep. 25th, 2004|07:35 pm]
To answer some of my critics here (where they will never read it) - hell no, I don't have a life. I just can't afford one of those suckers. Do you realize how much maintenance and upkeep a "life" needs? I am more than content with my pathetic existence, thank you very much, there's nothing inherently wrong with living in a basement, posting on the Internet. Well, when I say "basement" I really mean "hole in the ground" and when I say "posting on the Internet" I mean "writing incoherent insults on pieces of lard wrapper and flinging them at the spiders". Oh wait up, a nice young man has just come with my meds.
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Sex Ed [Aug. 4th, 2004|01:22 am]
Overheard somewhere on the Intarweb:

Q: How did people ever have sex before the Internet?

A: I just figured it out by watching what the dog did, but I only got more confused because the dog only fucked the cat.

One of my neighbors actually called management because they found a dead rabbit on my welcome mat. They thought I was in trouble with somebody (the mafia?).

What the fuck kind of mafia would that be, the Cuddly Wuddly Mafia?

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Left vs Right [Aug. 4th, 2004|01:22 am]
Your average conservative will assfuck you without so much as a by-your-fucking-leave, but will inform you in deep and manly tones that it's for the good of the nation and the world, and of course he'll be wrapped in the flag while he does so. He will also reassure you that yes, of course you are entitled to possess firearms to defend yourself against thieves and robbers and vile criminals, except of course the brute who is currently ramrodding you, and don't even think about defending yourself against him or he'll call the FBI or the DEA to put a gun to your head.

The left, on the other hand, would prefer that you offered up your own ass for the good of democracy, and of course charge you handsomely for the privilege, will tell you most sincerely that "we're all in this together", and would likely have the good grace to give you a reach-round while plumbing your nether regions in order to demonstrate how they are better than those loathesome Republicans. And then when he's finished you discover your wallet is missing.

In essence: whichever way you turn, right or left, someone is bound to be fucked in the ass, and whatever happens, it won't be the government.
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Conspiracy Theory [Jul. 29th, 2004|04:48 pm]
Conspiracy theorists are basically just hopeless optimists. They desperately want to believe that there is some hidden plan behind everything, that the sinister but competent members of the Moravian Illuminati or the Golden Circlejerk or the Bilderbuggers are secretly in control of things, and that everything is proceeding according to some secret plan, rather than face up to the Awful Truth that all our fates are in fact in the unsteady hands of a gang of gibbering power-hungry dumbfucks who can't see farther than the next election and who you wouldn't trust to run a circlejerk at a furcon.
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