Selected by Mary Gaitskill
Bullwinkle J. Moose (of “Rocky and His Friends,” “The Bullwinkle Show,” and “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show”) is my idea of a great American. This is a quixotic choice, and my reasons for it are so ephemeral that they are practically nonexistent. But, when I was asked this question, Bullwinkle was who (or what) popped into my head. Specifically, what popped in was a snippet of dialogue between the hairy cartoon moose and his squirrel sidekick as they confronted yet another instance of villainy: “Bullwinkle, this is terrible!” “It is?” Those last two words, spoken with guileless, game uncertainty, have periodically appeared in my mind for decades, evoking something bright and primary colored—like cheap toys, cheap clothes, cheap music—that instantly evokes an American dreamworld of abundance and delight.
In his ability to create an enchanting something from nothing, Bullwinkle bears some relation to another legendary American, Harold Hill, a.k.a. the Music Man, who makes a glorious marching band out of slovenly youths and the delusional dreams of their brutally scammed parents. But, whereas Hill is basically a charming criminal, Bullwinkle is an entirely ethical force for good; he would never scam anyone. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to, because he’s too . . . stupid.
Bullwinkle’s stupidity is announced in practically every episode of his shows, emphasized to the point where it comes to seem like a kind of sublime credulity (You want me to get in this mink cage and jump up and down squeaking like a mink, so the villains won’t know I’m a moose? Sure!) or existential Everyman condition that, squarely faced, may even be heroic. (“Once again,” the excited voice-over in “Moosylvania for Statehood” intones, “Bullwinkle’s incredible stupidity had saved the day!”)
Warm, fuzzy feelings for noble stupidity are an American thing, especially in politics. And they can, alas, transform into hot and hateful feelings for actual intelligence, or, indeed, for anything of exceptional quality, or, even worse, anything aspiring to be exceptional. But none of this is true of Bullwinkle! Though he matter-of-factly acknowledges his limits, Bullwinkle has aspirations! He loves knowledge and culture! In Bullwinkle’s Corner, he recites poetry, sometimes wearing a dress or a classical tunic. Donning a tux, he performs as Mr. Know-It-All, dispensing useful tips on topics such as how to avoid falling asleep on the job (Blow yourself up!) or how to disarm a bomb (Use a bobby pin!). He does magic, pulling lions and tigers out of hats. He even plays a medium, summoning the departed with “Eeny, meany, chili, beanie, the spirits are about to speak!” He’s a big dumb moose, but, though he doesn’t pronounce everything correctly, his vocabulary is excellent.
It’s the American Dream! Even if you come from nowhere, and don’t have a title or a good family or an education or anything, really, you can still recite poetry and pull stuff out of a hat. It may turn out to be the wrong hat, you might pull something out of it that will tear your head off, but that’s another story: it’s still an American Dream.
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