#but turkey in the straw

[disneyboot]

Title apparently references Steamboat Bill, Jr. Songs used in the short: Steamboat Bill and Turkey in the Straw

Addendum Mickey Mouse was created to replace Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, and may have also been inspired by Van Beuren's Milton Mouse

Addendum II

Steamboat Willie was attached to the film Gang War, which is now unfortunately lost to time

[heracleskarpusi]

look sadik and hassan are sitting near each other boom they are canon 🤯🤯🤯 (also look at how cute iceland is my god)

[diet-poison]

To the tune of Turkey In The Straw:

'Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm tryin' to keep Up above in my head, instead of goin' under 'Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm tryin' to keep Up above in my head, instead of goin' under

[supreme-burrito]

I don’t know if there is definitive proof out there that the Pilot is actually called “Everybody Lies” but yeah it’s 100% true.

Taken from House Season 5, Disc 5 Bonus Features.

Also happy 20th to this episode I blame tumblr for drop kicking a fictional old man demon who looks like a K-Pop star into oblivion

For an actual old man demon who looks like an actual old man has the body of an old man and is tired overworked and has a drug addiction

[patzweigz]

re: steamboat willie being everywhere... i finally watched it for the first time and uh yeah. people are not kidding about the connection of early animation to minstrelsy

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I'm gonna be honest with you, I had never actually seen Steamboat Willie until just today. I knew the whistle from the Disney animation logo, and I've seen the goat victrola before, but I was not ready for Mickey Mouse to play a pig's nipples like an accordion...

[morganmerylhodgepodge]

Happy Public Domain!

[nexus-nebulae]

god sometimes i wish the whole "you wouldn't say/do that to a physically disabled person" lie that certain mentally ill people say was true bc i fucking WISH i could use "I'm in a wheelchair" as a gotcha for people being ableist against me. unfortunately,

[dannyreviews]

Steamboat Willie (1928)

2024 had opened with the greatest rejoicing among fans of Disney and old school animation. After 95 years, the earliest version of Mickey Mouse is now in the public domain and is owned by the public. Immediately after midnight, YouTube account "Corridor" uploaded the iconic Disney short "Steamboat Willie" and as of this writing, the video has 376,000 views and is sure to go up. I thought I would celebrate by reviewing this 7 minute masterpiece which shows the inception of an American icon.

The cartoon opens with the famous shot of Mickey commanding a steamboat down the river, although without the permission of his boss, the giant Peg-Leg Pete (although without the Peg-Leg). Mickey is forced to do his chores while Pete's parrot taunts him. The steamboat picks up a bunch of animals including a cow and a goat. Minnie is also picked up and the two have fun playing music when the goat eats sheet music of "Turkey In The Straw" that Minnie brought aboard. The fun continues as Mickey and Minnie play the animals like musical instruments, using a duck quack, the cow's teats and a bull's set of teeth. Pete discovers the jam and orders Mickey to peel potatoes, again with the parrot taunting over him, but Mickey throws one of the potatoes to shut the parrot up, ending the cartoon.

"Steamboat Willie" is every bit the piece of film that is found in every montage celebrating the cinema of the 20th century. Mickey at the helm of the Steamboat is as iconic as Charles Foster Kane whispering "Rosebud" or Rick Blaine saying "Here's looking at you kid". And yet, the animation is primitive, the music by future Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies composer Carl W. Stalling is generic and the dialogue is unintelligible. All of that can be excused due to the art of animation being in the developmental stages and that it was the first animated sound film. Taken for what it is, "Steamboat Willie" resonates with people of all ages just for the very idea that it was Mickey Mouse's debut to the world and that's what really matters. It's the same thing with "The Jazz Singer", despite being the first full length talkie, it is really a mediocre film, and had it not been for the history, no one would care for it. If anything, the flaws are actually the most fascinating part.

Back in 1928, "Steamboat Willie" was the warmup feature for a now lost film called "Gang War" starring Jack Pickford (brother of Mary) and Olive Borden. The audience were blown away by Mickey Mouse, for the sheer brilliance of the cartoon as if it was other worldly. Also, the fact that "Gang War" was another early talkie that most likely was devoid of a musical score and the dialogue tended to be bland and inaudible. The film was panned by critics calling it another cliche flick. The critics had all the kind words for the cartoon preceding the feature which was more revolutionary. The audience demanded "Steamboat Willie" be repeated and the rest is history. I wonder if a copy of "Gang War" will surface and if it will find a new audience who might be receptive due to its association with "Steamboat Willie". Maybe, maybe not.

What will come from this new public domain status for early Mickey Mouse? Much like the plays of Shakespeare or the art of Leonardo Da Vinci, there is an audience willing to put their interpretation of the classic character in their own art, literature or parody. 2024 and beyond should and will be filled with endless possibilities.

9/10

[doctorghoti]

Once again, a TWST event has me both going “Aw, what a cute reference” and “Hey developers, did you know how deeply embedded in American history this element is and how maybe we shouldn’t use/do that?”

[pa-pa-plasma]

I think sirens exist, they just evolved to better blend in with the modern world (ice cream truck)

[riewiggles]

when you're working

AND TURKEY IN THE STRAW IS IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD AND YOU ACCIDENTALLY START HUMMING IT ON A CALL

[themightythornicus]

I just heard the ice cream truck, I wonder if it’s the one from our old neighborhood, being that it’s completely seasonally inappropriate for ice cream trucks

[littlelamy]

family thanksgiving with rafe

The house was alive with the warm chaos of Thanksgiving. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Your family filled the rooms with lively conversations, stories, and the occasional outburst of sibling bickering.

Rafe stood at your side, looking every bit the charming Southern gentleman as he greeted your family. His crisp button-up was neatly tucked into dark jeans, and his hair was combed just enough to look presentable but still had that boyish disarray you loved.

For a guy who claimed to be nervous about meeting your family, he was doing an excellent job of keeping his cool.

“You didn’t tell me your mom could cook like this,” Rafe murmured into your ear as you both carried dishes to the dining room. His voice was low, teasing, but the way his hand brushed your lower back as you walked sent a thrill down your spine.

“Behave,” you warned, shooting him a playful glare.

He smirked, but his eyes held a mischievous gleam. “I’m always on my best behavior, sweetheart.”

That was a lie, and you both knew it.

The first time he pulled you aside was when you were refilling your aunt’s wine glass in the kitchen. The others were still in the living room, chatting over appetizers.

“Rafe,” you hissed as his hand closed around your wrist, tugging you into the small pantry just off the kitchen.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips already brushing yours.

The kiss was quick, soft, and utterly intoxicating. His hands rested on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles that made your knees weak.

“Your mom’s a great cook, but you’re the only snack I care about tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his tone low and suggestive.

You shoved him lightly, a mix of exasperation and giddy laughter bubbling in your chest. “If someone catches us—”

“They won’t.” He kissed you again, longer this time, his lips moving with a confidence that made you forget the world outside the pantry.

The second time was when you were setting the table. He waited until everyone’s backs were turned, then leaned in to whisper something very inappropriate in your ear, making you nearly drop the fork you were holding.

“Rafe!” you scolded, trying to stifle your laughter.

He just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “What? I’m just thankful for you, babe.”

By the time everyone gathered around the dining table, you were already on edge—not from the family chaos but from the man sitting beside you. Rafe looked innocent enough, nodding politely as your dad asked him about his job and laughing at your cousin’s awkward jokes. But under the table, his hand had found your thigh.

At first, it was a simple, comforting touch. His palm rested there casually, his thumb rubbing soft, lazy circles just above your knee. You shot him a warning glance, but he didn’t move his hand. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, a silent challenge in the way his lips quirked into a smirk.

The conversation at the table flowed, but your focus was entirely on him. Every time he squeezed your thigh or shifted his fingers, your pulse quickened.

When his hand slid higher, you nearly knocked over your water glass.

“You okay, sweetie?” your mom asked, looking at you with concern.

You forced a smile, your face burning. “Yep! Just clumsy.”

Rafe’s fingers stilled, but you knew it was only temporary.

As the meal continued, his touch became bolder. His fingers ghosted over the hem of your skirt, then dipped just beneath it. The light pressure against your skin sent a shiver up your spine, and you clenched your fists on your lap to keep from reacting.

“Pass the rolls, Rafe,” your uncle said, breaking the tension.

Rafe’s hand disappeared as he leaned forward, grabbing the basket and handing it over with a polite smile. He was the picture of innocence, completely unbothered by the storm he was stirring inside you.

The final straw came when Rafe dropped his fork.

“Shit,” he muttered, letting the utensil clatter to the floor. “I got it.”

You froze, your pulse skyrocketing as he ducked under the table. His movements were casual enough to keep suspicion at bay, but the moment his hand wrapped around your ankle, you knew you were in trouble.

“Rafe,” you hissed through clenched teeth, trying to sound firm, but it came out more like a plea.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice muffled under the table. “Just getting closer.”

The answer came when his lips pressed softly against the inside of your ankle. A rush of heat shot through you as he trailed kisses up your calf, his hands gently parting your knees.

Your grip tightened on the edge of the table as he moved higher, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above your knee. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the warmth of his mouth paired with the occasional graze of his fingers was driving you insane.

“Rafe,” you whispered again, more desperate this time.

“Shh,” he murmured, the vibration of his voice against your skin making you bite your lip to keep from reacting. “Mhm… just let me.”

His lips hovered just beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing in a way that made you squirm. His fingers slid further up, ghosting over your panties, and your stomach tightened as he paused, pressing his thumb against the damp fabric.

“So wet,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quietly for you to catch, but the deep tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You opened your mouth to scold him, but before you could, you felt it—a quick, deliberate kiss over the center of your panties.

Your entire body froze, a gasp threatening to escape as he lingered for a split second longer, his breath warm against the fabric.

“Got it!” Rafe’s voice rang out suddenly, cheerful and innocent as he reappeared with the fork in hand.

He slid back into his seat with a smug grin, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks blazing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You taste better than dessert, babe,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy, so only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped, and your thighs pressed together under the table. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, but judging by the satisfied look on his face, he already knew what kind of effect he had on you.

By the time dinner ended, you were ready to throttle him—and maybe fuck him senseless. As the family moved into the living room for coffee and dessert, Rafe caught your hand, pulling you into the hallway.

“You’re impossible,” you hissed, your voice low.

“And you love it,” he countered, backing you against the wall. His hands found your waist, and his lips were on yours before you could protest. The kiss was slow, deep, and absolutely intoxicating.

When he pulled back, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Happy Thanksgiving, Rafe.”

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[cyarskaren52]

Seriously fuck this HATEFUL country and people who deny its hatefulness and help perpetuate the hatefulness.

Seriously fuck this HATEFUL country and people who deny its hatefulness and help perpetuate the hatefulness.