‘Toons, it seems, have become quite trendy.

Ever since “Batman” hit the theaters last summer, bringing with it lines three blocks long and a slew of promo products from Batman earrings to undies, cartoons have become major box office draws.

I’m already hyped-out concerning the upcoming Warren Beatty-Madonna flick “Dick Tracy.” This thing isn’t going to be released for a month or two, but there are already posters, t-shirts, magazine covers and kids all over bugging Mom and Pop to shell out six bucks for a ticket—and that’s not counting five-dollar popcorn and a three-dollar soda.

If that’s not bad enough, the Film Gods are planning movie versions of Captain America and Fred Flintstone. Superman and his sequels, of course, have already made Christopher “like my tights?” Reeve a celebrity in his own right.

This baffles me. Correct me if I’m wrong (I’m asking for it here), but last time I checked, cartoons were animations of real life designed to poke fun at all of us three-dimensional human beings. What’s the point in turning animations back into actors and actresses?

Then again, it has gone the opposite direction as well. Cartoon adaptions of “Beetlejuice” and “Ghostbusters” have already made it to the small screen Saturday morning lineup.

Though I’m hardly awake and functioning at 7:00 a.m. on a weekend, the TV Guide schedule seems to indicate that many of the Saturday morning shows are not what they used to be.

Mini couch potatoes can flip their sets on to cartoons like “Dink, the Little Dinosaur,” “Kissyfur,” (I have no idea what a kissyfur is and I’m not even going to guess) “Camp Candy,” “Gummi Bears,” “California Raisins,” and “Karate Kid.”

Maybe it’s because I’m turning old and mature and grumpy, but my idea of fun is not watching gummi bears and raisins dance around and avoid being eaten. Likewise, I have no desire to watch animated Ghostbusters avoid being slimed and a cartoon Beetlejuice scaring the wits out of everyone. I want my tweety bird.

Cartoons may have been just as inane when we were rug rats, but at least they had plots, neat-o characters and far-out adventures. My brother and I constantly battled about who was better, Grape Ape or Magilla Gorilla. I was partial to Grape Ape, but he liked Magilla’s theme song and was bigger and stronger than me.

For some reason, my favorite cartoons had dog characters (no Freudian comments, please). If I wasn’t giggling over Mr. Peabody, Underdog and Augie Doggie/Daddy Doggie, I was glued to Scooby Doo. It was all over, however, when that stupid Scrappy joined the cast.

Keeping with the animal motif, other top picks were Tennessee Tuxedo (“uh, gee Tennessee”), Speed Racer, Ricochet “bing bing bing” Rabbit, Quick Draw McGraw, Squiddly Diddly, and those perennial favorites, Secret Squirrel and Morocco Mole. That weird turtle who spun around to get back in time (“Help me, Mr. Wizard.”) was also popular with among my neighborhood chums and classmates.

With Hollywood moving at the pace it is, movie versions of these cartoons may be on the silver screen before we know it. I may even audition for Polly Purebred. Or, then again, maybe Hong Kong Fuey.