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Mr. Peabody, pictured with his adopted boy Sherman, takes the whole talking dog concept to another level... the level... of... dare I say it... this blog.
You see, Hector Peabody (yes, that’s his first name; and though the museum at Yale is apparently named for him, he is a graduate of Harvard– wagna cum laude) doesn’t just talk. He talks brilliantly. He is erudite… a polymath, seemingly well informed on everything.
And for fun, he likes to take his pet, a boy he adopted named Sherman, on the Wayback Machine (it is spelled various ways) to travel throughout time and space in search of bad puns.
In short, Mr. Peabody is a perfect metaphor for, say, the United States… or, perhaps, for the internet(s). The absolute pinnacle of eons of evolution have given us not merely a dog that talks, but one who is utterly brilliant to the point of inventing something beyond human comprehension. Which he then uses absolutely frivolously… simply to amuse himself with the sort of cheap pun that I often go for…
Just as the greatest communication device in history to that point– television– is used mostly to watch professional wrestling, cooking shows, soap operas, and other forms of ethereal flotsam, when it could be the greatest educational and cultural enrichment advancer ever conceived… and then, the internet(s)… largely used for gambling, pornography, debates as to whether Captain Picard is cooler than Captain Kirk (answer: no) and for whiny ass liberals like m’self to take cheap shots at our Dear Leader… and post meaningless diatribes about the metaphoric value of cartoon characters…
I guess you could call this the… pay-back machine…
tdog
Bad puns? I loved Mr. Peabody. Only Reverend Jim from Taxi was as much fun as a time traveller.
And his associates, Moose und Sqvirrel, were equally cool. In fact, I’ve memorialized Bullwinkle with a song title I use as my AIM screenname:
Albie Moosing U…
Badenov for you?
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