Meat Cleaver Massacre
I see by the morning paper where a 30 year old man killed his grandmother with a meat cleaver because grandma objected to the man bringing home a prostitute. This happened in San Antonio. I would have possibly guessed San Antonio as a likely spot for a meat cleaver murder, although Bayonne, New Jersey would have been my first choice. That just seems a more likely place.
Meat cleavers are very, very common implements to be used for murder, if you happen to live in Toontown, home of Roger Rabbit. Some animal or another was always getting hold of a meat cleaver and chasing some smaller animal around with it, back in the cartoons of my youth. Don’t know why the meat cleaver was the preferred method of killing over, say, a steak knife, but it was. I think it may have been that a meat cleaver is wielded (at least by oversized cats who can run about on two legs) with both hands and creates a more interesting picture of mayhem than a knife, when carried across the screen. Visualize, if you will, with me, Sylvester the cat, meat cleaver waving over his head, chasing after the little yellow Tweetie Bird. Funny stuff. I don’t recall a single cartoon character who was ever actually killed or wounded by a meat cleaver. I have a vague memory of one being split from head to toe by a cleaver, but then coming back together in the next scene.
We had no meat cleavers around my house as I was growing up. Nor were there any loose sticks of dynamite, falling boulders, short cannons with large mouths that worked by simply pulling a string, mill saws and conveyor belts, soft barreled pistols that could be bent by your enemy so that you ended up shooting yourself in the face, Mexican jumping beans that when you swallowed made your stomach, and then you, bounce around, balloons that when grabbed would carry you up into the stratosphere where you were liable to take quite a fall when a road runner shot the balloons with a pea shooter (for that matter, I never had a pea shooter),floor boards that would spring up and flatten your face, doors that opened directly onto deep canyons or trains that might come steaming through the living room. I never saw a steam roller in the neighborhood, or a black ball shaped bomb with a burning fuse.
I suppose that we will never know why this fellow in San Antonio had access to a meat cleaver. Maybe he was a butcher. I have never read that butchers were more likely to bring prostitutes to their grandmothers house than other occupations, say, Architects, but I have never studied the matter. At any rate, this was apparently no cartoon. If it had been, the Grandma would have had a little Tweetie bird who would have ended up taking care of the situation. “Gwandma, I taught I taw a pwahstitoot ! and a puddy tat wit a meat cweaver ! “ Then, the cat would have swung the meat cleaver and missed and continued rampaging through the house until it befell some grizzly end of its own making. I don’t know what would become of the “pwahstitoot” in the cartoon. That is an angle that the Warner Brothers seldom played up. I know what happened to the “pwashstitoot” in San Antonio though, she was found dead from a single gunshot wound to the head ,caused by a 357 magnum. “ Ha he, hee hee hee, hee hhee hee, that’s all folks”