The Three Stooges was an exercise in showing that, if you hit a guy in the head enough times, he wouldn’t be any less retarded and could still ruin making food/painting/boxing with the best of us. It also proved that, if people call things “classic” enough, then they’ll automatically become good. Examples of this are films like “Miracle on 34th Street,” a movie that is so boring that in some countries, it’s shown to calm possible genocides. But, enough people have claimed it “classic” to trick other people into calling it that, and so it stands. The same goes for The Three Stooges. One can call me uncultured for not liking them, but that wouldn’t be true, as I’ve laughed at the physical misfortunes of fat, bald people enough to be given the middle name “He’s Damn Cultured.”
Hanna Barbera also believed The Three Stooges to be classic entertainment, but, as in all cases, they often confuse the word “classic” with “non-protected franchise rape” and had to do something with it. How could they possibly improve three middle-aged men poking each other in the eyes and making exaggerated expressions of pain? It would seem impossible, but HB pulled through and invented something as equally timeless: The Robonic Stooges.
Remember when you played superhero with your friends, and there was always one kid who never had the brain capability to pick an awesome power. You’d be flying around and shooting lasers and he would be able to talk to trees and leap a normal height. This is what I imagine the type of scenario that birthed The Robonic Stooges was like.
HB President: Alright, who has ideas?
Writer 1: How about an original superhero with above average animation?
HB President: Fuck you, hot shot! Take your dream back to the factory and get a job. Anything else?
Writer 2: How about The Three Stooges, but given bionic parts and fighting crime badly?
HB President: Oh my. Seriously, oh my. You’re getting a promotion. Call one of my hot wives in here. It’s reward handjob time!
Larry, Curly and Moe get robot parts inserted into them. Moe and Larry come off the assembly line. Curly fat-guys right into them and they end up in a mess, too naïve and “robonic” to be ashamed.
The opening itself is as close to the word “mercy” as Hanna Barbera ever came, as it only runs eleven seconds. However these eleven seconds feel like sixty more, probably because your brain can tell that it’s getting pulverized and is leaking some mind numbing chemical to ease the pain of its bodily suicide. The lyrics are quite simple:
“Built from the world’s finest electronic parts,
Designed to be the world’s most perfect electronic robots.
The Robonic Stooges!”
It’s almost a metaphor for Hanna Barbera itself. I know that the animators had access to colored pencils, at least; the colors don’t run enough to be the blood and tears of children as I’d earlier hypothesized. But all they could come up with was this shit. It’s like they were testing the youth of America, giving them an eleven second window to jump out of an actual window. Do it fast, boys and girls, or you’ll be not entertained into a much crueler death.
The Show Itself:
I don’t want to make myself seem like any sort of martyr, but if I didn’t get a rare form of jungle cancer from watching this show, I won’t trust doctors again. This kind of stupidity could be considered a form of biological terrorism. The powers that the three wield are never defined, and often never used more than once. Most often, the only thing the Stooges use are their tape measure arms and long necks, and that’s only after they’ve failed completely. Their other powers, including having a camera, sink, telephone and an air pump are rarely seen and even more useless then they sound.
The Stooges mainly live out their lives, disrupting grocery stores and homes and football games, until their commander O-O-O, a witty play on OO7, if your idea of wit is trying to decide whether or not to eat what comes into a storm drain, gives them something to do. And those somethings are never really dangerous or any kind of threat. It’s just a generic mad scientist who’s decided that he’d like to control the world by either A) inconveniencing a city slightly or B) do nothing, and the Stooges have to put an end to it in the least engaging way possible.
I can’t put into words how much I hate myself after watching just a single episode of this nonsense. I managed to make it through a few more than that, but that’s only because I kept the image of my puppy in my head and wrote “Hang in there, friend” on my walls. Just check it out. You’ll hate for it.
I wish I could think of a more clever way to say “No. And it could’ve been easily avoided.” But I can’t. The Robonic Stooges are only as necessary as the Robonic Stooges. And that necessity, is up to you and your hearts.
The show has the characters laugh at their own lame jokes and puns, especially Curly, who will say things like “Why do it today, when you could do it tomato?” and then laugh after it. Don’t taunt us with your non-humor, Robonic Stooges. I don’t laugh because I see other people I don’t know laughing. If I did, I would’ve liked Jay Leno’s Facebook page a long time ago.
What the fuck does “robonic” mean? I Googled it and all I could find was this show and a Finnish company that made pneumatic driven catapult launchers for unmanned aerial vehicles. I’m pretty sure that Hanna Barbera wasn’t aware of the whole “spring shit out of planes when people aren’t in them” market, so they tried to fool us with made up words. You’re not fooling anyone with your “knowledge,” HB. I can say the word “love” a thousand times, and I still don’t quite grasp the definition of it. I’m assuming it has to do with breasts and chocolate, or a combination of both.