It’s a Wonderful Life (True Story)

I was watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” the other night and drifting off to sleep. I guess my brain was still listening. George had met up with Clarence the angel and they were having their heated disagreement. At one point, George dismissively calls Clarence “Gabriel.”

My half-awake brain heard, “Gay-briel.” Like, George was making a little homophobic jab at Clarence. My half-awake brain thought, “That was a weird line to put in a movie in 1946.”

Then I woke up and laughed at myself.

But.

Clarence is totally gay.

Christy began modeling after school at 15 and after graduating from high school moved to New York. There she became one of the top models of the 1990’s, the era of the first ‘super models.’ She did covers for ‘Mademoiselle,’ ‘Vogue’ and ‘Elle.’ She did advertising campaigns for Marc Jacobs, Calvin Klein, Louis Vuitton and others. Paparazzi photos indicated that she may have an affair with another top model of the time, Stephanie Starnes, but she also dated many men.

In the late 1990’s Christy met movie director Eddie James at a party. The two began dating, fell in love and were married in a ceremony in Malibu, overlooking the Pacific. They seemed exceedingly happy. Christy even had bit parts in two of Eddie’s movies. They had two homes – one near Hollywood, the other in the horse country of Eddie’s native Virginia. After two years, Christy became pregnant. But tragedy struck.

Eddie was directing a movie in set in Alaska. Eddie, a licensed pilot was flying his own small plane from Fairbanks to the set location near the Alaskan coast. Christy in her last trimester, was accompanying him when a sudden storm came up. The plane went down. Eddie was killed in the crash, and Christy’s back was broken. She miscarried and nearly bled to death before rescuers found her. As she was recovering in the hospital, her mother was shot and killed in a botched robbery in Los Angeles. Less than a week later, her father died of a cerebral hemorrhage. The paparazzi said he died of a ‘broken heart.’

Christy eventually recovered; a widow and seemingly an orphan at age twenty-nine. She resumed modeling some, although her heart seemed not to be in it any longer. Christy also moved to Washington and began attending Georgetown University, where she later completed a double degree in comparative religion and history. She was in class on the 11th day of September 2001. Deeply affected by the events of that day at the Pentagon, Christy began doing charity work for the USO and other charitable organizations.

It was at a charity function where she met Clarence Higginbotham, then a second-term Congressman from a mid-south state. He was handsome and had a carefully cultivated image (at the time) as a politically moderate congressman with high ideals and integrity. He was struck by her beautiful looks and courted her like a lion stalking its prey.

And now, seventeen years later, to the paparazzi Christy was known as a former super model who, after heart break, met a man who might would be President. She was a devoted wife who championed various causes. At least that was the image that Senator Higginbotham’s staff portrayed. It was a part that Christy struggled to play.

Of course, things in real life were a little more complicated.

As Maya stood outside of the E Street bar smoking, Senator Higginbotham was eating alone in the dining room of his Georgetown home. And Christy was preparing for bed. She was sitting in front of the dressing table in her bedroom – she and the Senator had not slept together for several years and had separate bedrooms. Christy looked at the image of herself in the mirror over the dressing table as she combed her shoulder length dark brown hair. As she did, she thought to herself, “If I were braver, I’d divorce Clarence. Whatever love I had for him died long ago. And I’m not sure he ever really loved me. Perhaps he was smitten by the thought of having a so-called super model as his arm candy. I know I was smitten by him. Or by his carefully cultivated image at the time as a politically moderate congressman with high ideals and integrity. That and his good looks. I was in a vulnerable place at the time – after the accident. It was only later after we were married that his true self began to emerge. And it’s certainly gotten worse over the last ten years.”

In the dining room, Senator Clarence Lawrence Higginbotham finished the Steak Esmeralda, their Honduran maid and cook had prepared. He thought to himself, “Christy really pissed me off tonight. I wanted her to tell me what a great speech I gave and all she did was get her ass on her shoulders about me calling the illegal immigrants a ‘brown skinned horde.’ She should know I’ve got to fire up the Base to avoid a challenge from the far Right during the upcoming primary.” Then moments later, “Who am I kidding? I’m the far right. That woman who is running against me doesn’t represent the far Right, she represents the lunatic Right.” He chuckled out loud at this thought. Then, “Maybe Christy thought the phone call was from Evie. I’m sure that she knows Evie and I are having an affair. But she shouldn’t get all pissy about it. Christy is a lot of things, but she isn’t dumb. She was a model long enough to know that’s the way of the world. Someone younger and prettier – not that Evie is prettier than Christy, she’s still a very beautiful woman. Anyway, all men always go for the younger woman. But I’ll just let Christy continue to think the call was from Evie; she’d shit bricks if she really knew what’s going on.

And in front of the E Street bar, Maya finished her cigarette. She threw it to the pavement and stomped it out with the sole of her high heel. As she did so, a man in a suit, also smoking, said, “It’s a damn shame you cannot smoke inside anymore. I mean for God’s sake, it’s a bar.” Maya gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. The man continued, “The guy at the bar is really wound up, isn’t he?”

“So, it seems,” replied Maya. Saying this, she discretely eyed the man. “He has that slick, useless look. Probably an attorney or perhaps a lobbyist for one of the Beltway Bandits,” she thought.

“Want to go back inside and let me buy you a drink?” he asked. “And one for that girl you were talking to. Your niece, right?”

Having brushed her hair the requisite fifty strokes and rubbed cream under her eyes, Christy, who always slept in a short nightie with nothing underneath crawled into bed. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up the book she was reading.

Instead, Christy concentrated on the television across the room. The Senator had last been watching Fox and had left it on that channel when he went into his office to take the phone call. One of the Fox personalities – Christy refused to call them newscasters – was interviewing a man who called himself a former Navy SEAL about Afghanistan. The man was measured in his comments, stating that many mistakes had been made over the course of the last twenty years and making a plea that America owed something to not only our own veterans, but also those who had helped us in Afghanistan. Of course, the host of the show kept trying to turn the conversation to the failures of the current administration. “Shouldn’t they have seen this debacle coming? Was it a failure of the administration’s will, faulty intelligence from the Army and CIA and other ‘Swamp Denizens,” or both?” The guest kept trying to turn the conversation to appreciating our vets and helping those who helped us, but the host was having none of it. “Why should we help those cowards. They don’t want to stay and fight for their own country. We can’t and shouldn’t open our hearts and country to them. Let some other NATO country take them if they want to, but not us!”

Christy had heard enough. Disgusted, she went to the other end of the sofa, picked up the remote and turned it to ESPN. As she did so, she thought to herself, “I wonder what T.J. thinks about all this. Perhaps I’ll write him.”

She was sitting down when the Senator returned to the room. He said, “Sorry about that. An important call I had to take.” Then, “Anything good on the news?”

Christy answered without emotion. “Yes. Braves 5, Washington 2. Bottom of the fifth.”

Senator Higginbotham thought to himself, “So, it’s going to be one of those nights.” Then he sat down and resumed his martini. Shortly afterwards, their Honduran maid, Esmeralda, came in. She said, “Dinner is ready. Will you be eating here or in the dining room?”

Christy got up and said, “I’m not hungry. Think I’ll go to bed early. Please serve the Senator wherever he likes.”

And in a bar, not three miles away as the crow flies, a female CIA interrogator who was on loan to be a trainer at the Agency’s ‘farm,’ looked up at the TV above the bar. Se had been chatting up a young female college student from American University with the hopes of bedding her. But the loud-mouthed drunk standing at the bar kept looking at the same TV and shouting to no one in particular. “Fucking morons! Fucking cowards! A five-year-old could have seen this coming. If I was Chief of Staff or the CIA Director, none of this shit would have happened!”

The woman known as Maya looked at the coed and said, “Excuse me. I’m going to step outside for a smoke. You know, settle my nerves so I can talk to a pretty girl like you.”

The coed beamed at the compliment and said, “Certainly.”

Rick’s American Café was on a quiet side street in Old Town Alexandria, not too far from the shops and galleries of the Torpedo Factory. No signs out front advertised its location. In fact, only ‘people in the know’ knew of its existence. And those ‘in the know’ included a truly diverse audience: Members of Congress, looking for a quiet retreat, some of their staffers, a few well-heeled lobbyists and Belt Way Bandits. And a surprising number of the LBGTQ community.

Naturally the place appealed to Maya. She was sitting in a quiet corner of the darken bar, eyeing the night’s clientele and deciding whom might be her companion for the evening. Maya thought of herself as an equal opportunity predator. She made no secret of the fact that she was bisexual, and in the 21st Century CIA, no one seemed to care, especially her superiors who valued her analytical and interrogation skills. After the fall of Afghanistan and the more or less ceding of Iraq to Iranian backed militias, Maya had been recalled to Langley. There at Headquarters, she had been doing analyses to support the struggle against human trafficking, a mission new to the Agency and at the behest of the Administration and one influential Senator in particular.

Maya was somewhat bored by her current assignment and missed the field, but tonight she was on the prowl for some enjoyment. She spied two possibilities – a mop haired young woman in her early twenties, sitting alone at the bar and a tall, slender African American man in his thirties, wearing a three-piece suit at the other end. She thought to herself, “The girl is probably a staffer or perhaps a secretary who overheard someone talking about Rick’s. She asked around, got the location, and is now here to scope it out. The man is probably a lobbyist or perhaps a lawyer for one of the Belt Way contractors. He has that slick, worthless look about him.” Maya continued to scan the bar. Suddenly her eyes stopped on a secluded table in the opposite corner. “Why, I recognize that man. He’s wearing a wig, but there is no mistaking him. It’s Senator Clarence Higginbotham, trying to look incognito. And that girl with him. That’s one of his staffers. Out on a furtive date? I’m sure if asked he would say that they are doing research to see if the man who is contemplating a run against him is truly gay. That’s the rumor his campaign is spreading. But I’m guessing that since he has his hand on that young woman’s thigh, it’s the former, not the latter. I just don’t understand it. He’s married to a former super model, a bright, mature woman who is involved in many worthwhile causes. Maybe he just likes young stuff.”

As Maya continued to discretely surveille the Senator and his assistant. Then she noticed a bulky figure in a long wool coat approach the table and sit down. Maya was stunned and thought, “I recognize that man, too. That’s Anton A., a staffer in the Byelorussian Consulate. What is he doing here meeting with Senator Higginbotham?”

Maya’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind her. “You look lonely. May I buy you a drink?” Maya turned, pushed her red hair aside, cast a look at the man in the three-piece suit, and said, “Certainly.” And to herself, she thought, “I guess I will be having dark meat tonight.”

It was cocktail hour in the Georgetown home that Senator Clarence Higginbotham shared with his wife Christy, the former supermodel. He was sitting on the sofa in front of the 60-inch TV that a lobbyist had given him. It was one of those smart TV’s that could show four channels at once on its screen. Currently it was showing Fox, News Max, OAN, and surprisingly ESPN where the Washington Nationals were playing the Atlanta Braves. He called out to his wife, “Christy, please bring me another martini and come look, I think all three networks are showing my speech from this morning.” Christy poured him another drink, gave it to him and sat at the far end of the sofa.

Soon the Senator’s image filled three screens. He selected the one from OAN and watched himself excoriate the current administration for the debacle in Afghanistan and crisis at the southern border. Christy sipped other glass of white wine and cast a sideways glance at her husband. To herself she thought, “That’s when he’s happiest. When he is looking and listening to himself.” She took another sip and continued her thoughts. “And no doubt when he’s getting blown by that twenty something blonde staffer that he’s having an affair with.”

Christy’s thoughts were interrupted by the senator. “Be sure and listen to this. My staff writer really gave me a good line. Red meat. The Base will love it.” Christy watched as the image on the screen said, “The current administration has not only made a mockery of the brave efforts of our young warriors in Afghanistan, they have also opened our border to an invasion of the brown skinned hordes.”

“Wasn’t I truly eloquent then? I hope the ‘Big Guy’ was watching. I want him to know that I’m a much more valuable asset as his running mate in 24 than either that idiot in Florida or the other senator. I’d add some gravitas spiced up with some old-fashioned populism. Imagine me leading chants of ‘No brown skinned hordes’ at his rallies.”

Christy took another sip, sighed, and said, “I remember when you said you would be running for president in 24.” She emphasized the word ‘you.’

“Oh, I’ll still be president. But this way is easier. There’s not as much scrutiny on a VP. And the ‘Big Guy’s’ past will eventually catch up to him. He’ll be forced to resign, and then we’ll move into 1600 Pennsylvania. “

Christy discretely rolled her beautiful green eyes, took another sip of her wine. Then, “You do know that my own mother might be considered one of the ‘brown skinned hordes.’ After all, she was half Mexican and half Nicaraguan. Wouldn’t that make me half brown. You know, like an octoroon or something?”

“Well, you certainly look white enough. Your dad was full Anglo wasn’t he? War hero pilot and all that b.s.”

With a belly full of courage Christy leveled her gaze on her husband and said, “You know good and God damn well my background. You had your fucking P.I.s do a background check on me when we were dating. My mom, rest her soul, was a flight attendant for Pan Amand my dad was flying for them after he left the Air Force. It was a fucking love story! War hero weds beautiful immigrant. Dies of a broken heart after she’s killed in an accident. A fucking All American love story!”

“Now. Now. I don’t want to fight. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

An icy silence descended on both ends of the sofa. After several minutes, Senator Higginbotham said, “One of my staffers saw you on PBS, marching in a rally against human trafficking. That’s good. Good optics. Maybe next time OAN or even Fox might cover it. And perhaps you might march with a less ethnic bunch? And if you did, maybe I could do a speech on the Senate floor about how we could pressure the Taliban to allow Afghan girls to go to school. That’s another one of your little causes, women’s rights and all that, isn’t it?”

Christy silently seethed and was about to say something when the cell phone on the coffee table in front of the senator buzzed. He picked it up, looked at the number on the phone’s screen and said, “Excuse me. I have to take this in my office.”

He quickly left the room, and Christy thought to herself, “Probably that little blonde bimbo staffer wanting to know when they can meet again.”

Hello all you lovely people~!

For those of you who don’t know, my name is the Cartoon Archivist! I have whole range of Cartoons/Anime/Animated movies within my catalog of animation knowledge, from some of the earliest animations in history all the way up to present day. And I try to use this awesome power that’s been gifted to me over a lifetime of experience for the forces of good! If you got a cartoon that you only have the faintestof memory about, send me all the info you got on it and I’ll check to see what my archive comes up with! (Just make sure to check out the FAQ before you ask!)

So, recently OK, KO! Let’s be heroes, had an entire network crossover that’s very reminiscent of some of the early Cartoon Network Bumpers. 

I personally haven’t watched OK, KO! (but don’t worry! It’s on my list!) but with such obscure TV shows, references, I couldn’t resist testing my research skills and my Cartoon Network knowledge. So, I’ve complied a bunch of pictures together and challenged myself to name them all!

Here we goooooo~!

Statutes:

Secret Mountain Fort Awesome, Chowder (Chowder), Chowder (Schnitzel), HI HI Puffy Ami Yumi, The Moxy Show, I Am Weasel, Sym-bionic Titan, Regular Show, What Ever Happened to Robot Jones?

Posters:

The Powerpuff Girls.

Bonus:

Har Har THarsdays was a programming block that was used to promote new episodes of Cartoon Network’s original animated shows. This is also where those pale, white manikins came from. 

Statues:

Summer Time Island; Camp Lazlo (The fact that these two are next to each other is hilarious); Adventure Time; We Bare Bears; Mighty Magisword; Sheep in the Big City; Clarence; Mike, Lu and Og; Long Live the Royals; Out of Jimmy’s Head/Brain Rush; Craig of the Creek. (Can’t tell who that is with the back turned…)

Posters:

Adventure Time, Samurai Jack, Steven Universe, Johnny Bravo

Statues:

Time Warp; Evil Con Carne; Codename: Kids Next Door; Johnny Bravo; Robotomy; (Jorel’s Brother) Irmão do Jorel (So let me tell you about this one. This cartoon aired in Brazil. It never premiered in the United States. The design is close enough that I was certain I had seen it before. Because I thought it was a little old grandma character. I was wrong. I searched for this character for over 2 fucking months to find this mofo and let me tell you: Know who he is is one of the MOST SATISFYING THINGS I HAVE EVER DONE. May have “cheated” a little by using the Nexus Wiki. But if have the resources, am I right?)

Bonus:

Cartoon Cartoons was the name of Cartoon Networks original brand of series that came out of the What a Cartoon! shorts back when Cartoon Network originally started. It would go on to become the tag line of the network and air alongside the Cartoon Network post-episode clapperboard clips.

(Some overlap in this one, so I’ll just add the new ones.)

Statues:

Over the Garden Wall; Dial M for Monkey; Villainous 

Statue:

Fantastic Four: World’s Greatest Heroes

Statue:

Generator Rex