Pepe Le Pew won’t be appearing in Warner Bros’ “Space Jam” sequel.—Deadline Hollywood
Messieurs and mesdemoiselles, bonsoir! It is good to see so many attractive journalists here today. I would like to make love to each and every one of you! Ha ha! Oui, oui—my representatives are telling me not to get distracted. Is good advice, non? This is my problem! I have too much amour, non? Anyway, I have come before you today to make an apology.
Questions have been raised about some of my past interactions with cats and dogs whom I perceived to be highly attractive lady skunks. I never intended to offend anyone or cause any harm. It was all about the amour, non? But, still, my actions are not—how do you say—appropriate. Pepé is très sorry.
Questions have been raised about some of my past interactions with cats and dogs whom I perceived to be highly attractive lady skunks. I never intended to offend anyone or cause any harm. It was all about the amour, non? But, still, my actions are not—how do you say—appropriate. Pepé is très sorry.
It would be easy to blame my behavior on having been insulated by privilege—the privilege of being a well-known celebrity skunk. But I will not do this. It would also be so easy to make some excuse. Like, other skunks have engaged in disreputable behavior for decades without getting caught. Or, only a few unreliable cats and dogs have complained, and they can’t even talk. And, yes, it would be très facile to cast the blame on others, like the painters who are always so sloppy with their painting, leading to white stripes down the backs of black cats and much, much confusion. Mon Dieu, why is it always white paint?
I am sorry for letting everyone down—my family, my friends, my business associates, other skunks, other French animals, and, of course, the cats and dogs whom I confused with highly attractive lady skunks and relentlessly pursued through cities, forests, the Swiss Alps, and ocean liners. Je suis désolé.
I would also like to apologize to my “Looney Tunes” co-stars. Though I should say that I do not see Mr. Elmer Fudd or Mr. Yosemite Sam out here apologizing for glamorizing gun violence. Or Mr. Bugs Bunny apologizing for his propagation of racist stereotypes. Or Mr. Speedy Gonzales for . . . everything. But that is the way of the world, non? Tolerance for violence and racism in America is always higher than tolerance for amour. D’accord—once more, my representatives are reminding me not to get distracted. And that aggression and unwanted advances are not to be confused with love. C’est la vie.
You have to remember, I came of age in an era when a French animal who did not respond to obvious social cues was considered hilarious. But no more! At one time, there may have been a place for a talking skunk who walked on his hind legs and pursued the love of cats and dogs whom he misidentified as female skunks. But that time is not now.
by Jay Martel, New Yorker | Read more:
Image: Everett
