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Too good not to swipe:


Thanks to Groovy Vic!

On a related note, Adam West will always be the real “Batman” to me.  On the other hand, Casey Kasem is the True Voice of “Robin”.

UPDATE:  This post got me noodling more on the whole Casey Kasem voice acting phenomenon, which you might say was an integral part of my misspent yoot, since he seemed to be in damn near every cartoon I watched.  This had an effect later in life.   Back in the day when I was Super Dad instead of That Crotchety Old Stupid Who Never Lets Us Do Anything, my impersonation of Kasem’s Shaggy was treated with wonder and delight at Port Swiller Manor.  (And just as an aside to this aside,  I laugh out loud every time I think of Lisa Simpson’s line, “If Scooby Doo has taught me anything, it’s that there’s nothing to be afraid of except crooked real estate developers.”)

Another tidbit is the fact that Kasem was the voice of Merry Brandybuck in an appalling 1980 Rankin & Bass cartoon version of The Return of the King (which also featured, among others, a thoroughly miscast Roddy McDowell as Sam).   It was such a rotter that I think I’d actually prefer watching Peter Jackson’s version if I had to choose, and regular friends of the decanter will know that that means a lot.   I only throw this out because Kasem had such an immediately recognizable voice that I recall half-expecting him to suddenly say, “Like, Scoob! Frodo’ll never get to Mt. Doom without a snack, right?  Let’s go make one!”

Oh, and as long as we’re visiting the Hall of Justice:

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Some friends of the decanter – and hangers-on from the Llama Days – may recall ol’ Robbo on occasion devoting some Random Commuter Observation posts to a little Korean guy who shows up each Christmas season on the Dee Cee Metro and sings carols to the passengers?  If so, you have waaaaay too much time on your hands.

I bring this up now because, as several people have flagged for me, the WaPo profiles the guy in this story.  He’s Fisher Yang, pastor of something called the Puritan Church out in the Shenandoah Valley, and he’s been at his ad hoc singing gig since 1998.   (I know I’ve been seeing him for a long time, but I didn’t realize it was that long.)

Now that I’m driving the gels to school, there are very, very few things I miss about taking the metro, but I’d certainly number Yang’s little concerts among them.   He’s got a pleasant, resonant baritone voice, he’s always polite and cheerful, and, well, I find his efforts to be uplifting.

It’s also been my observation that, of those who pay any attention at all, the majority fall somewhere on a scale between benign tolerance and appreciation.   Not everyone agrees, of course.  I’ve seen the man bodily hustled off the train by at least one lout.  Another time, some eedjit (a well-dressed, educated-looking fellah who ought to have known better), started yelling, “You have no Constitutional right to do that! You have no Constitutional right to do that!”

Anyway, it’s evident that Yang’s heart is in the right place.  More power to him, says I.


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December 2012