Transportation Safety II
And the little one said "roll over"
written by Bill on February 28, 2025

The first thing you need to know about One Got Fat is that he is one of Hong Kong's premiere action stars. The second thing you need to know is that it's also the name of an educational film from the '60s, and that will be our focus today. The third thing you need to know is that it's narrated by Edward Everett Horton, which means one tends to keep thinking it's a Fractured Fairy Tale while one watches it. If only things were so simple.

As our story begins, Horton introduces us to 10 "jolly characters" who each have their own bicycle. Each of them, we're told, treats his or her bicycle in the same way they treat themselves. What exactly that means is a little unclear. I suppose when I think back to my childhood, I washed my bike about once every six months and often let strangers ride it for small amounts of money, so maybe it's not so unusual. Horton's tone is playful and the music is light and whimsical, assuring us that nothing objectionable will happen in this film.

As you can see, they're a.. unique bunch, starting with the fact that they all seem to have pieces of iron lattice work sticking out of their asses. The reason for this huddle is that they've decided to have a picnic, as children often do, in a park nine blocks away. "That doesn't sound far, but a lot can happen in nine blocks," Horton says, his voice beginning to take on the barely contained smug superiority of a man watching ants marching blindly into the honed beam of a magnifying glass at high noon. But the music is still happy and sweet, so I'm probably just imagining things.

Because these characters do not exist in any plane of reality, they all went home and made their own sandwiches and packed their own lunches to take with them. They even went as far as to write their names on each bag like your mom used to do, so we're not quite dealing with the rebel crowd here. The camera pans across the row of lunches to see -- oh ho! There's a fat kid!

Comedy ahoy! And he's even named "Slim", which is in actuality not the case due to his substantial girth! Thank goodness, I can take it easy for the rest of the article knowing this rich, infinite seam of comedy gold will carry us on waves of guffaws the rest of the way. He's fat!

Actually, that's just one of his problems. Man, I know how that is. I totally know where he's coming from.

...

His big sack. That's where he comes from.

...

*cough*

Slim asks Orville Slump to carry his lunch, as Orville has a basket on the back of his bike. And thus, in the tradition of David Spade and Chris Farley, the tubby bitch teams up with a femmy scrawny kid. Everyone sees this as a wonderful idea, and soon Orville has more sacks on his hands than he knows how to handle. Again, I think we've all been there.

Note that they've been careful up until this point to not show the faces of any of the kids participating in this little adventure. It's a bit confusing why they would do such a thing. How important could such information be? What could they plan for a big reveal? I mean, these are perfectly normal, typical, all-American children who

OH MY GOD

As a child, sitting in a darkened classroom, keeping only a partial grasp on consciousness as I began to doze while this film rolled, I have to believe I would have been propelled out of my chair by the sheer force with which I would have shit myself after these creatures popped into view. I'd have to look around to make sure the other kids were seeing the same thing I was or else I'd worry the faces on the screen would start telling me to burn the school down. I--

God damn. Forget it, let's just move on. Quickly.

Our intrepid heroes/demons take off on their bikes, and we settle on the first of the team. His name is "Rooty Toot" Jasperson, pictured here mid-blowjob. "Rooty Toot" is kind of a gay pornstar name to have, but he's going with it. The Rootster always likes to be out in front, because he's always in a rush to get to places first. And since he's always in front, he's in charge of one of the cardinal rules of bicycling, be a human use hand signals. But eventually he begins to feel silly having to make so many.

I'm glad to see an educational guide actually admitting that hand signals are really goofy. I knew vaguely of their existence when I was a kid, but what I knew better was that I would make myself look like an absolute tool if I used them. Rooty knows this too, so he decides to rest his arm and not make the next turn signal. Just this one. What's the harm?

Well, okay. I know the point you're trying to make here, but really this is less of a failure to use hand signals and more of a failure to not take a sharp turn in front of a car that's five feet behind you. I'm not sure what kind of signal would have saved Rooty in this particular situation. Maybe if you're one of those people who can bend their fingers back to touch their wrist it magically cancels the inertia of oncoming vehicles.

The screen blacks out, there are some cartoony flash bursts like you see when someone in Tom and Jerry gets hit with a frying pan, and then there's a shot of Rooty's bag (no, the one with lunch in it) while Horton solemnly intones "At this point, Rooty Toot Jasperson left the party." And that's it. So.. they've just killed someone, apparently. I mean, he was a skullface monkey thing, but still.

Back with the group, who by the way doesn't seem to have noticed or cared that one of their friends was just plowed into by a car in front of them, as they continue down the road. Imagine if you were driving down the road one day, glanced out the side window, and saw this riding up beside you. The music is still the kind you'd find in a 1950s short film demonstrating the wonders of modern appliances, subtly implying that if you don't practice safety precautions, not only will you die, but the world will keep right on being a happy bouncy place without even noticing you.

We next come upon Tinkerbell MacDillingfitty -- yes, that's the name they give. Thank goodness they drew that curly lock of hair on her forehead or else she'd look strange. Tinkerbell's problem is forgetfulness. She forgets to brush her teeth, she forgets to do her homework, and sometimes she forgets to look for stop signs.

Given the relative positions of Tinkerbell and that truck, and given that the truck is going about five miles an hour, we must assume Tinkerbell also forgets to not stop in the middle of the road and wait for a truck to hit her. Horton titters with amusement at all this. You know, that's the real problem with our society today. We're always made to feel guilty about feeling superior over someone else. In those days, how much better you were than other people was the sole measure of your worth. Celebrating differences is for pansies and communists.

"Exit Tinkerbell MacDillingfitty. She forgot, now and then." Okay.

Once again the crowd doesn't notice, though maybe they didn't see it. Why was Tink going in a completely different direction from the group? How easy is it to get lost in nine blocks? No matter. Our next victim is..

Phillip Floogal, also known as "Floog." Floog is a star athlete and class president, which means he's better than you. As such, life bores him. Riding on the right side of the road? It's so.. pedestrian. ...Well actually, that would be the sidewalk, but stick with me. Floog decides what he really needs to spice up his life is to ride on the left side of the road. He almost immediately has a close call with an oncoming car, but it does little to deter him. The spectre of death in the form of a housewife with a Welsh Corgi won't take no for an answer, however, and pulls out into the street while keeping her eyes fixed behind her. In front of her, Floog is racing towards her fender. There's no time to steer clear! Look out Floog, you're gonna

AAUUUGGH FUCKING JESUS FROM HELL

Goddammit stop that shit. How could anyone have put this mask together -- which, by the looks of it, took all of 15 minutes -- and not thought to themselves that this was the most hideous thing they'd ever made. I want to print it out poster sized and put it on the wall facing someone's bed while they're asleep. Maybe set their alarm to play Come To Daddy.

"Phillip Floogal is no longer bored." Fuck you too you creepy motherfucker.

Perhaps sensing the need to give the audience time to recover, the next one is less psychologically damaging. Mossby Pomegranate doesn't actually have a bike, and tries to keep up with the group by jogging. Turns out he once had a bike, but he never bothered to get a license for it. So clearly his fault was to be exactly like every other kid. Except, again, monkeyfaced. Licenses help the police retrieve your bike if it's lost or stolen, we're told, but Horton neglects to mention a new-fangled gizmo that can also help in that regard called a Goddamn bike lock. Apparently it was bad form in the '60s to actively keep people from stealing your stuff. You were just supposed to make preparations for the easiest way to get it back afterwards. "All right you rascal, you've had your fun, but I'm afraid the random bike you rode off with is not actually your property." Anyway, his bike got stolen, his parents are too cheap to get another one, so he has to run everywhere he goes. Soon his feet are aching and his shoes are sizzling, so he gives up the race and sits down on the curb.

"Farewell, Mossby Pomegranate. Victim of fallen arches." I have to admit I was halfway expecting Mossby to look down at his feet, see his worn out shoes, and have his eyes burst out of their sockets and roll down the street. Don't sweat it too much, kid, at least you have your health.

Which is more than can be said for Trigby Phipps and Slim Jim MacGupney. This plan will turn out well. Poor kids are sorta doomed from the start, because the name of the film is One Got Fat, not One Got Fatter. Slim's bike recently collapsed, hilariously no doubt, under his hefty presence, so Trigby agreed to give Slim a ride. Once again the soulless black sockets for eyes work against them, as it doesn't look like a friend is riding along as much as it does Trigby carting a bloated corpse around in his basket. At this rate they're going to be late, not only because they're going slower due to the extra baggage, but they still have to move these refrigerators, they still have to move these color TVs.

Naturally, Trigby can't see a damned thing, and there's an open manhole in the middle of the road. These kids may be engaging in some unsafe practices that put them in harm's way, but harm is getting a serious fucking assist from God here. God hates skullfaced monkey children. When's the last time you saw an open, unattended manhole in the middle of the street? When's the last time you heard of a kid getting run over by a tank truck in a residential zone? These kids don't even really have a choice, it's like they've woken up in a suburban version of Cube where elaborate traps stolen from Paperboy kill off members of the team as they travel from block to block until the nerdy monkeydemon finds prime numbers imprinted on their bikes' top tubes and the autistic monkeydemon gets to escape to the glorious, blinding Picnic.

So does this mean Edward Everett Horton is God? It would explain why he's enjoying this so much, and why he seems to know all about these characters and the fates that await him. That tricky bastard. Slim begins frantically pointing and blobbering around trying to get Trigby to stop (though he's not quite put out enough to just jump off the bike), and they've got about, oh, 30 yards of distance to brake, but Trigs ain't having it. He barrels right on and the two plunge down the shaft. One would imagine Slim would simply plug the hole, but the Lord's ways are mysterious and Slim's shirt is probably coated with butter anyway.

"So long fellas. There seems to be a flaw in the buddy system." You're a real smartass, God.

Back to the other girl of the group. Now, the makers of this film know that girls are more reasonable, less risk-taking sorts, what with their home making and child cleaning and whatnot. Us audience members aren't going to believe a girl would drive in front of a car like those rowdy boys. So in order to maintain the documentary-style realism we've come to expect, they must think carefully about what girls are known for. We had Tinkerbell earlier being so forgetful she got hit by a truck, that's a start.. Oh! Being bitchy! Of course! As the guy in the hat ponders if he left the iron on, Nelbert Swybach is talking shit and swinging her fists at anyone who comes near. Despite the fact that half the group is dead, the road is still too crowded for her liking, and she starts swatting at the others to keep them away. She finally gets fed up, turns up a driveway and onto the sidewalk, still shaking her fist and presumably cursing at the other monkeys for breathing her air. Riding on the sidewalk is strictly banned in Freak City and many others, and for a brief moment the film inspires hope that we'll get to see the Monkey Police bust onto the scene. You're a loose cannon Koko! BUT I GET RESULTS OOK

Nelbert's upset, we're told, and "she wants one good reason why she shouldn't take over the sidewalk all to herself." Aw, you're just taunting Him, don't you know that? In response, God plops two women carrying groceries onto the path ahead, and of course there's a stupendous crash.

"Nelbert Swybach got her one good reason." Because riding on the sidewalk flings women into trees, that's why. Sounds like one good reason to start charging tickets to ram your bike into people, actually. Man, even the neighbors are creepy looking in this place.

On the street, a squeaky wheel sounds the entrance of J Fred Muggs Filbert Bagel. Bagel's bike is squeaky and falling apart due to age and being slathered with cream cheese, but he refuses to get it fixed. After all, his parents will probably get him a new one for his birthday, and what could possibly happen in the short time until then?

"He can't see any reason to take care of a heap of junk. But he will in a moment though. You see, he doesn't know it, but there's not a shred of a brake left." What the hell, Horton. You're sick. You've got problems. You need to get that shit checked out. What ridiculous trap do you have waiting for this poor soul?

Oh for Chrissake. No. No no no no no. I reject this on any and all grounds, both morally and by the laws that govern a physical world in which reality occurs. Unless Filbert Bagel is the toon that killed my brother he can not be run down by a Goddamn steamroller, you demented twat.

Look, kid, just hop off. Just a little jump, that's it. It's a bike, not a rocket sled. Tuck and roll, you'll be fine.

Just put your feet down, then! That's all it takes! You're going two miles an hour, you could probably just grab your front wheel with your hand! Wake up!

FUCKING CUNTBUTTERED DICKBISCUITS OF CHRIST WHAT THE SHIT IS THAT

I'LL NEVER EXPERIENCE JOY AGAIN

Goddammit fuck you. I'm not taking this shit anymore, forget it. Change the channel. Look, it's 8:00, turn Pimp Chimp on.

aww sup bitch wheres my money

Baby you knows I gonna gets yo money why you gotta be hasslin me

bitch bes check yoself an gimme dem bills

Baby baby baby I don got yo money now

awww hell no here comes the slap train pullin into smackabitch station

Gah! It's no use. I'm going to be seeing that thing everywhere I go. I might as well finish this out. But I'll tape the rest of Pimp Chimp!, I'm dying to see how that turns out.

"Now Filbert would be the first to agree that if it's worth riding, it's worth taking care of." Oh come on. That's your big post-mortem one-liner? Where's the wit? Where's the droll glibness? At least give me something like.. "I guess when Bagel is a pizza, you can kill Bagels any time." Too convoluted?

Just two kids left, and we're introduced to Stanislaw Higgenbottom. I'm not feeling very good odds for Stan to be the titular One. He doesn't have the Oakleys. What Stan does have is either a a tongue drawn on his mouth or herpes. I can't quite figure out what would be the purpose of either. Stan doesn't waste any time throwing himself under the quite literal bus -- he enters a dark tunnel without any lights or reflectors, and in the darkness we hear screeching tires and a crashing sound.

"Stanislaw just wasn't quite bright enough." Now that's more like it.

So nine demon monkeys have been led away and slaughtered like a bad horror movie, and all that's left is Orville Slump. You may remember him from the beginning of the short: He was the one carrying everyone's lunches. All things being fair, he probably should've been chastised for overloading his bike and got hit by a boat or something, but something tells me this setup isn't quite on the level.

Have you guessed the incredible secret of One Got Fat?

Gasp! Orville was the mole! The mole/10 year old drill instructor. This really only raises a host of questions we don't have time to get into. What is Orville's family doing in this neighborhood? Is his dad hard up for work so they had to move to the monkey slums? Will he grow up to be a monkey poseur that people mock because he's human but even the hardcore monkey fans have to admit that he has real tree-swinging skills?

Alas, these questions will go unanswered. But we've all learned an important lesson, and that is that humans are better than monkeys, at least so long as they're young, white, male and American. And the next time you hear of someone being hit by a car, listen close to see if you can hear an old man laughing.