(today's zomby) AND VINTAGE "DRAGNET" FINGER PUPPETS!

Forgive me for double-dipping on the Dragnet nostalgia, but yesterday's post reminded me of something I absolutely must share with you!

Gannon and Friday from Dragnet 1967; Blue Boy

Back in 1995, when Nick at Nite was still quite awesome, one of the staples of their schedule was Dragnet 1967, the infamous hippie-era revival of the straightlaced police procedural in which uptight Joe Friday came into contact with the "free love" generation and didn't like what he saw one bit. That series' very first episode, "The LSD Story" (a.k.a. "The Big LSD") from January 12 1967, was also its most beloved and notorious, thanks largely to Michael Burns' character "Blue Boy", an acid casualty who painted half his face blue. 

Back in the summer of 1995, as part of its 10th anniversary celebration, Nick at Nite put out a one-time only magazine filled with articles and trivia about some of the shows on its lineup. Easily, the best feature of the magazine was a page of Dragnet finger puppets by artist Chip Wass! For the benefit of you, my readers, I have decided to scan and post these finger puppets along with the original instructions and scripts included in the Nick at Nite magazine from 1995.

Enjoy!

Gannon and Friday

Blue Boy and some props (sugar cubes, badge, coffee cup)

Joe Friday's car from Dragnet 1967

ALL RIGHT PAL, cut along the dotted lines, including the small notches on the tabs. Slide or tape the notches together. If you want to use the props, cut a small slot between each character's arms and torso, then insert the tab of the prop. Tape the white band below the car against the edge of a table and your scene is set. Now keep your hands where we can see them.


DRAGNET
FINGER PUPPETS
CUT 'EM OUT, PUT 'EM TOGETHER, AND START TALKING IN A CLIPPED, STACCATO RHYTHM. USE OUR SAMPLE DIALOGUE OR WRITE YOUR OWN... AND DON'T TRY ANYTHING WITH THOSE SCISSORS.

From Episode #1:

GANNON: Stand still.

BLUE BOY: REALITY, man, r e a l i t y . I could see the center of the earth, purple flame down there--the pilot light, all the way down there, purple flame, the pilot light. The pilot light of, of all creation.

GANNON: He's clean, Joe, except for these. (Bill displays five sugar cubes in his palm.)

BB: Reality, r e a l i t y .

FRIDAY: What' s your name, son?

BB: You can see my name i f y o u look ha r d eno u g h.

FRIDAY: C'mon now, what's your name?

BB: D O N ' T y o u k now my name? MY NAME'S BLUE BOY!

GANNON: What do you think, Joe? Cartwheels?

FRIDAY: Sugar cubes. I'll make you book he's been dropping that acid we've been hearing about. All right, son, you're under arrest. It's our duty to advise you of your constitutional rights. You have the right to remain silent and any statement you make may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to the presence of an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed before any questioning. Do you understand that?

BB: T h e r e I a m . I'm over there now. I'm not here anymore. My hair is green and I'm a tree.

If you prefer soliloquizing with your finger puppets, here's Joe Friday's immortal "John Law" speech from Episode #6:

FRIDAY: Sure, it's awkward having a policeman in the house. Friends drop in, a man with a badge answers the door. The temperature drops 20 degrees. You throw a party and everybody's a comedian. "Don't drink too much," somebody says, "or the man with the badge will run you in." Or "How's it going, Dick Tracy? How many jay-walkers did you pinch today?" Then there's always the one that wants to know how many apples you stole. All at once you've lost your first name: You're a cop, a flatfoot, a bull, a dick, John Law. You're the fuzz, the heat, you're poison, you're trouble, you're bad news. They call you everything but never a policeman.

The dialogue you just read was TRUE.

They're a modern, post-apocalyptic family...?

Were the Flintstones a reflection of our past... or our future?

Happy Labor Day, boils and ghouls! (Sorry, couldn't resist a little Crypt Keeper impersonation there.)

On this great American holiday, I've decided to pay tribute to two of our country's greatest traditions: cartoon shows and post apocalyptic fiction. You might think that these two are mutually exclusive, but that's where you're wrong. In fact, one of our most beloved animated institutions might secretly be a fictional post-apocalytpic scenario! Which one is that, you ask?

Why, The Flintstones of course! Yes, the familiar saga of Fred, Wilma, Barney, and the whole Bedrock gang might well be a terrifying glimpse of Things To Come!

I'll let an expert discuss it. Here is teletherapist Dr. Will Miller describing the venerable cartoon show in his brilliant 1996 book, Why We Watch: Killing the Gilligan Within:

See That Mushroom Cloud? Meet The Flintstones!

Ironically, one of the most futuristic shows of all time was The Flintstones. many viewers assume it depicts an ancient past. Nonsense! The Flintstones is actually a show about a terrifying future! The program first come on the air in 1960, at the very height of tension between the United States and the Soviet Union. Every citizen lived in dread fear of being annihilated in a nuclear war. School children participated in drills hiding under their desks while homeowners built bomb shelters in their backyard. It was a terrifying time.

What if the worst happened? Suppose there was a full exchange of missiles with Russia and indeed the earth was laid waste -- the entire country was leveled by the blasts! Now imagine that a tiny remnant of people surived in small numbers across the land. As they picked themselves up and began the daunting task of rebuilding their lives, it is certain that they would re-create a middle-class life out of the primitive materials available to them from the now scorched earth. The civilization they would construct would look astonishingly like -- Bedrock!

Thus The Flintstones is actually a fantastic dream vision of a post-apocalyptic American community that survived the nightmare of a nuclear holocaust! Next time you watch, you should feel profoundly grateful that The Flintstones did not become a reality for us! in fact, have you written anyone in authority to express your thanks? Why not send a note to the government and say "thank you for saying 'NO' to the Flintstones!"

(Miller, pgs. 88-89)

Pretty strong stuff, right? What do you think, readers? Is Miller correct in his theory about The Flintstones? Are there perhaps other "hidden" post-apocalyptic stories lurking in American popular culture?