Sometimes I look back on my life and wonder what forces have shaped me into the galavanting ball of electric spunk I am today. Why do I cream my jeans every time I look in the mirror? Why does my blood boil with the vigor of a billion murdergasms? Why do I transform into a wily trickster whenever I am around fat, depressed people? Well, today I realized that I owe it all and more to the 1990′s Disney cartoon show “Bonkers.”
Ah, Bonkers. Much like an oily, grabby, ball-sack-smelling Anthony Quinn did for so, so many luscious young boys of my parents’ generation, you taught me the meaning of manhood.
Listen to that theme music! Doesn’t it fill your pig heart with the desire to stroll down the street and snuff out a few vagrants with the knife-gun hidden in your cane?
She won't be smiling when ole Bonkers gets through with her
Bonkers D. Bobcat taught me to bounce right back when life tries to knock you on your dick. Your Hollywood career went down the drain? You can still serve a useful function on the police force: annoying the ever-living fuck out of a guy who just wants to be able to pay his alimony and make sure his daughter doesn’t grow up to be a whore like her mother. No one reads your blog? You can still spend several hours each day masturbating to anal snuff porn!
Bonkers taught me a real man knows how to get his. Bonkers always had his red rocket’s sights set on Fawn Deer’s sweet ass. Awww, Fawn Deer, better get busy bustin’ out dem furry titties or get busy dyin.’ There ain’t no prizes for modesty. And how about Bonkers’ curvy human partner Miranda? You better believe he was mashing his little sandworm against her any chance he got.
Finally, above all, Bonkers showed me there’s no time for self pity in this mutha. Exhibit A: one Jitters A. Dog. His delightfully nebbish catchphrase is “I hate my life.” A sad sack like that deserves nothing but torture from a demon-haunted cartoon bobcat.
“Thanks Bonkers!” — The World
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