Meet George Jetson
His boy, Elroy
Daughter, Judy
Jane, his wife
Now, let me see. I need a 27-letter word...
...meaning "opposition to the idea of opposing institutes. "
"Antidisestablishmentarianism. "
Oh, yeah. I was just gonna say that.
These crossword puzzles are a snap. Anyone with a brain can do them.
Electronic brain, that is.
- Yeah? - The time is exactly 3:00.
- Oh, thank you. - It's all right.
Oh, boy, quitting time. It's been a long day.
Going down.
With a little luck, I might beat the traffic home.
Will you look at that traffic? The skyway is jammed.
Well, there's only one thing left.
I hate to do this, but it's the law of the traffic jungle.
The survivaI of the sneakiest.
Pretty sneaky, huh?
The trouble with these skyways is by the time they're built, they're obsolete.
This traffic is the worst I've seen yet. I'd better take five...
...and stop in at the barbershop.
Maybe while I'm having my hair thinned out, the traffic will thin out.
Hi. You the barber?
Nope. I'm just watching the shop. He's out getting a haircut.
Very funny. Now, let's cut the comedy and cut my hair instead.
- Okay, I'm game if you are. - Just my luck, a funny barber.
Let's see. First the barber chair.
Then some barber jokes.
Do you know what they call small barbers?
Yeah, I know. Little shavers. Will you forget the jokes...
- ... and cut my hair? - Sure, which one?
- You got lots of them, you know. - Oh, boy.
That should do it.
How's it look?
- Just a hair too short, I'd say. - Let's keep a cooI head...
...and try this hair restorer.
Instant hair! How do you like that?
- I don't like it! - I don't blame you. You need a haircut, bad.
That is what I came in for.
Boy, this better be good.
- What's this? - The very latest. The umbrella cut.
Umbrella cut? What kind of a barber are you anyway?
Not too good, but I'm trying.
Let's forget the haircut and just give me a shave...
- ... without the snappy comebacks. Okay? - Okay.
Eenie, meenie, minie, mo I push this button, and away we go
That does it! What are you, some kind of a sadist or something?
Now, let me out of here.
He asked for it. I told him I wasn't a barber.
Well, at least the traffic's let up. I'll be home in no time now.
Hey, what's with her?
Left? Right? Up? Down?
Lady, I don't remember those signals in the traffic code.
- What do they mean? - Well, it's very simple.
I was going to make a left turn home.
Then I remembered an appointment I had to get my hair done.
What's the problem?
Women drivers, that's the problem.
I'm sure glad Jane doesn't drive.
That's why I always find her home where she belongs, getting my dinner.
Hey! What the...?
Smoke! It's coming from the superintendent's apartment.
Oh, poor Henry's probably in there. Better pull the fire alarm.
The fire is this way. Follow me.
Don't worry, Henry. We'll put it out.
Relax. Relax, sonny. I'm only fixing my dinner.
- Fixing dinner? - Yep, Martian meatballs. My own recipe.
What you need is a wife to do your cooking.
A man can't be really happy without a wife and family.
Maybe not, Mr. Jetson, but he can have a lot of fun trying.
Take me, for instance. When I get home...
...my kids will climb all over me. My dog will lick my hand.
My wife will smother me with kisses.
What does a bachelor have that I don't?
A clean suit, from the sound of it.
Look, Henry, when you have a family, you're a king.
- What more can you ask for? - AII I ask for is a roof over my head...
...and a chance to raise it once in a while.
Bye, now.
Poor Henry. He doesn't know what he's missing.
Jane, I'm home!
It's me, Janey, your king.
Peanut butter. Liverwurst. Sardines.
- Let's see, now. - Elroy, I'm home.
- Bologna. - Bologna? What do you mean?
- Is that any way to greet your dad? - Blastoff!
Blastoff?
Not you, Pop, the sandwich.
You can't expect a guy to do fourth-grade calculus on an empty stomach.
See you later.
Oh, boy. I've had warmer greetings from the tax collector.
Jane! Judy!
- How about a date tonight, Judy? - Well, I'd love to, Bobby...
- ... but I'll have to ask Mother. - Judy!
Really, Daddy. They can hear you shouting on Mars.
Well, I... Where's your mother?
Downtown, shopping.
Would you excuse me please, Daddy? This is a private call.
Well, there's always man's best friend.
Astro, I'm home.
You can jump up and lick my hand, Astro.
Come on, Astro. You're supposed to be glad to see me.
Now, come on, boy, go fetch my slippers.
- Are you kidding? - No, I'm not kidding.
I wonder if Henry's got any of those meatballs left.
All aboard!
Wait! Wait for me!
Oh, dear. Oh, I'm just exhausted.
- Thank goodness. Here comes another. - Move to the back, please.
- Excuse me. - Come on, move to the back of the bus.
- Pardon me. - All the way. Plenty of seats in the back.
- I beg your pardon. - All aboard!
Well, that does it.
That must be Mom.
- Hi, Mom. - Hi, Mom.
It's your mother, all right.
- Water. Oh, water. - Janey, what happened?
- Mother, what's wrong? - Car.
"Car"? What do you mean, "car"?
- I have to get one. - Scrumptious idea, Mom.
- May I borrow it? - Now, wait a minute!
I've had it, George. I've fought my last battle of the bulging bus.
I need a car.
But you don't know how to drive.
My mind is made up. We absolutely must have a second car in the family.
Now, wait a minute. If you think I'm gonna be responsible...
...for turning another female driver loose on the skyways, you are wrong.
The answer is no.
Remember the last time I tried to teach you to drive?
Yes, dear. You made me very nervous.
- So who's gonna teach you how to drive? - The Aero-Space Driving SchooI.
Ten lessons for $20, and my first lesson is tomorrow.
- What? - Supersonic, Mom. Then you can teach me.
And if you teach me, when I'm 8 years old, I can get a learner's permit.
When am I ever gonna learn you can't win?
I'm here for my first lesson, Mr. Sonic. Are you my instructor?
I wish I were, my dear, but that honor we'll reserve for Mr. Tweeter.
He's our specialist for lovely ladies. Step this way, please.
You know, to tell the truth, I'm a little nervous.
Calm yourself, dear lady. Calm yourself.
Mr. Tweeter is our senior instructor, you know.
- He won't make me nervous, will he? - Nervous? Never.
Why, Mr. Tweeter's an expert, due for retirement with a gold stripe.
- Goodness. How long has he been with you? - Three weeks.
Tweeter, quickly. Quickly, please. Your new student is here.
Oh, dear. Not another lady driver.
Come, come, Tweeter. Take your courage pill.
There's a good fellow.
Are you all right, Mr. Tweeter?
Of course he's all right. Nerves of steeI. Calm, cooI, trembling to go.
- What do I do first? - First you press...
...the solar starter button on your right.
Then release the antigravity switch on your left.
Is this left, or is it right? Oh, I'm so excited.
Women drivers. I ought to be arrested for running this schooI.
Now push the accelerator forward. Forward! Forward!
- Bye, Mr. Sonic! - Oh, no!
Mrs. Jetson, the first thing we learn is, keep your eyes on the skies.
Oh, of course, Mr. Tweeter. I'm getting the hang of it now.
- What do I do next? - I was afraid you'd ask that.
- See that little red knob? - Yes.
- Pull it out. - Alrighty.
But slow!
I pulled it out. What do I do with it now, Mr. Tweeter?
Mr. Tweeter? Mr. Tweeter!
Put it back! The knob, put it back in! Quick!
All right, but stop shouting. You sound just like George.
And I gave up wrestling alligators because it was too risky.
- What's this other button for? - Don't touch it!
How am I doing, Mr. Tweeter?
Fine. Dandy. Lesson's over. Come back next year. I mean, tomorrow.
What do you mean, "over"?
I paid for an hour, and we've been out only five minutes.
Oh, you're wearing a watch, are you? Funny, I would have sworn it was an hour.
- Mr. Tweeter, shame on you. - Well, you can't blame a guy for trying.
Now we'll practice our stopping and starting.
- There, how was that? - Well, you stopped, thank goodness.
Now, before you start, look carefully to the right.
Then look carefully to the left.
There's nothing around for thousands of miles...
...so go ahead.
- Now, how did I do that? - Just lucky, I guess.
Let's back up and try it again.
Well, okay, you're the teacher.
I'd have been disappointed if she hadn't done that.
- Oh, I'm sorry. - Forget it.
- Let's practice backing up instead. - Okay.
- Wrong button, Mrs. Jetson. - Oh, is it?
Now, tell me honestly, Mr. Tweeter, am I making you nervous?
Nervous?
No, no, no. Not at all, Mrs. Jetson. I'm fine.
Good. You're much easier to drive with than my husband.
What time do you have, Judy?
Five minutes later than the last time you asked, Daddy. Why?
- Just checking. - Relax, Daddy.
- Mom's been gone only half an hour. - I never should have agreed to it.
She's such a helpIess little thing, your mother.
She doesn't understand anything mechanicaI, and she gets nervous.
Oh, boy, does she get nervous!
Mr. Tweeter, do you think I'm ready to drive in traffic?
- Why not? No one lives forever. - Why, Mr. Tweeter.
You have a sense of humor. Driving is easy.
- Maybe all I need is one lesson. - No, Mrs. Jetson! Don't try to pass!
Even in schooI, my teachers said I learned fast.
Mrs. Jetson, look out!
Don't you think I'm very good for a beginner?
You're great as a beginner. But for me, it looks like the end.
- Stop the car, Mrs. Jetson. - What?
By the bank over there.
- Stop the car. - Okay.
I'll be right back. I just want to look in my safe-deposit box.
Right now? In the middle of our lesson?
I'm a family man, Mrs. Jetson. I just want to check on my insurance policy.
Oh, dear. I hope it's paid up. I'll take this line. It's a short one.
Shut up and put them up, in that order.
I wonder what's keeping Mr. Tweeter. Oh, here he comes now.
Okay, lady, move it.
Come back with my uniform, you crook!
- What do I do now? - Step on it, lady.
Say, you're not Mr. Tweeter. Are you a new instructor?
Instructor? Oh, yeah, sure.
Now cut the gab and put her down here.
Yes, sir. Now, let me see. Down is back.
Hey, what's the matter with you? I said, down!
I think I ought to tell you, shouting only makes me more confused.
Well, then, down, and watch it, will you?
Alrighty.
Oh, no!
- What was that? - It looks like a split-and-run driver.
After him, O'Jetski.
Now look what you've done. You got the skyfuzz on my back.
- Speed it up. - Well, if you're in such a hurry...
...why don't you just take over. Here.
Take it back, lady. Take it back! I can't drive.
Oh, well. They say those who can't, teach.
Say, that's a police car. I'd better stop and see what they want.
No, no. Don't stop.
- Hey, that was very neat, lady. - Well, thank you.
I'm glad I finally did something right.
But I wonder what the police wanted, and where did they go?
- I think they went that way. - We'd better find them.
I don't want to get a ticket.
Hey, lady, watch it! Look out for those buildings!
- Oh, there's plenty of room. - No, no, no!
You cannot make it!
See? I told you. I think I'm doing very well for my first driving lesson.
Your first... You mean, you don't know how to drive this thing?
If I did, I wouldn't need lessons from you, would I?
No, no, no, no. Now, just keep cooI.
- Don't get nervous. - I'm not nervous.
Oh, good. Then get us down now.
- Down, lady. Down! - Well, I'm trying.
There. That should do it.
- Hey, there they are, O'Jetski. - Hold it, you two!
It's the police. They're saying something to us.
Yeah, and I want to say something to them.
- Help! Get me out of here! - Really! Well, the feeling is mutuaI.
- I'd just as soon go back to Mr. Tweeter. - Okay, lady, anything.
Just get me out of here!
Some driving instructor you are. Now, where is that schooI?
Oh, yes, I turn left here.
- And I never should have left the Rock. - Maybe I should have turned right.
I think I'm getting airsick.
Oh, well, I'll just drive around till I find it.
So much for the news of the planets.
On the local scene, a bank robbery and a stolen getaway car.
We have here an eyewitness, Mr. Titus T. Tweeter...
...instructor at the Aero-Space Driving School.
Aero-Space? That's where Jane is.
Tell us in your own words what happened, Mr. Tweeter.
I see. And then what?
Well, I was giving this lady a driving lesson.
- Her name, please? - Mrs. Jet Georgeson.
- I mean, Mrs. George Jetson. - Jane!
Well, when I stepped into the bank, there was Knuckles Nuclear with a gun.
- He stole my uniform and my car. - With Mrs. Jetson in it?
- Yes, the poor thing. - Mrs. Jetson?
- No. Knuckles. - It's a dramatic story, folks.
The stolen getaway car with the helpless Mrs. Jetson in it...
- ... has eluded the police completely. - Oh, Janey's in trouble.
I'd better get down to the police station.
Really, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, will you please give me some directions?
I can't find my way back to your schooI, and I... Oh, honestly.
What a time to take a nap.
Well, Mother always said, "When you're lost, ask a policeman"...
...and that looks like a police station down there.
If I can just find the down button.
Halt, in the name of the law!
No, Mr. Mayor. No sign of the getaway car yet.
Hold it, Mr. Mayor. I think we got a clue.
Oh, dear. How do I stop this thing?
I've got all these little buttons mixed up.
Help! Run for your life!
- Jane! - George!
- Oh, thank goodness you're safe. - Where am I?
Oh, no! Not you! Arrest me! Please! Please arrest me.
Please, you guys, put me away. Please!
Lock me up in a nice, strong cell on the ground.
You know, George, I really don't care much about driving anyway.
Well, it's probably better if you don't, Janey.
Driving requires a man's skill, a man's judgment, a man's technicaI know-how.
And what about a man's eyesight, George?
- What do you mean? - You just went through a red light.
Okay, buddy, let's see your license.
Gosh, officer, I didn't even see that light change.
I've been driving a long time without a ticket.
And without a license too. It expired last year.
I got a violator here, Your Honor.
Expired license, ran a red light and hit a parked car...
...with a license number 875B36.
No previous violations.
Well, in that case, we'll let him off with a...
875B36? That's my car!
License suspended!
- Had your license suspended, Mr. Jetson? - Yeah, Henry.
- I guess I'll be riding the bus for a while. - Well, riding the bus isn't so bad.
In fact, that's how I met my fiancee.
Fiancee? You? The confirmed bachelor?
Yep. I took your advice. Time I settled down, you know.
Step to the back of the bus, all the way back. Plenty of room in the rear.
There she is, Mr. Jetson. The future Mrs. Henry Orbit.
- You mean the bus driver? - Yep, that's her.
- Hello, ArieI. - Pupsie!
Hello, poopsie. Isn't she cute, Mr. Jetson?
After we're married, ArieI's gonna help me park cars...
...at the apartment house. Right, poopsie?
- Right, pupsie. - Sounds fine, Henry.
Well, let's face it, there will always be women drivers.
Yep. Isn't it great?
Help! Help!
Jane, stop this crazy thing!
Jane!
Help! Jane!