Bob Wilkins, R.I.P.

Daryl stopped in mid-sentence and gave me a look.

"Dude, stand right there. Don't move." He raised his camera and snapped a picture. "Okay, got it."

I had been lamenting the fact that I was to shy to ask former Creature Features host Bob Wilkins if I could take a picture with him when I stuttered hello at his table at WonderCon. Luckily, as we were hanging out outside, Mr. Wilkins happened to be walking right past, so Daryl snapped the shot for me.

Though I didn't get to watch the show that Bob (and later, John Stanley) hosted on a regular basis since it was difficult tricking my parents into letting me stay up real late to watch it, I saw it often enough for my taste in movies to be forever warped.

Several years ago, the day the picture was taken, I talked to Mssrs. Wilkins and Stanley and told them that I wasn't sure if I should thank them or blame them for getting me hooked on these movies.

I know I've told this story before, but it seemed relevant, as Bob lost his battle with Alzheimer's disease this week. He was 76. I have tapes of some of the old shows -- my brother bought them from Bob one year I couldn't make it to WonderCon -- so I'll probably pop them in the old VCR this weekend.

A crappy story for the new year

Just to warn you right now, this story is a little gross.

When I was about 6 or 7 (I thought I was younger, but a cursory Google search leans more toward the early 80s), 9-Lives used Sylvester from the Warner Bros. cartoons to shill for their cat food.

I found a picture of a cel from the commercial:

Now I hadn't heard about this revelation despite being a gigantic Looney Tunes fan, primarily because there was no Internet.

So one day while I was dutifully reading a book, I heard my mom call from the living room, "Jeff! Sylvester's on TV!" Again, in my memory, I'm like 4, but I guess I was older unless this started in 1978.

What my mom didn't realize was that I was on the porcelain throne. Being a fiend for any new Looney Tunes content, I stood up, opened the door and poked my head out into the hallway to see the commercial.

What failed to occur to me was that in addition to reading, I was in mid-push when my mom called me, and I was so excited that I forgot all about my lower half.

The commercial ended, and I was brought back to reality with the faintest PLOP behind me as something--I'm not saying what, but you already saw this coming--hit the linoleum floor of the bathroom.

"Moooooooooooommmm!" I called, not knowing exactly how to handle the situation.

The mild admonishment I got a minute later--next time, just wait until you're done--was worth the expression on her face when she got a look at the floor.

And thus far--knock on wood--I have not had this problem again.