I hope those are Raisinets in my Easter basket...

It's Easter, and lo and behold, I found Cadbury Creme Eggs in my Easter basket.



BJ Novak (Ryan on The Office) sheds light on a serious matter.



You know about watching The Wizard of Oz while listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, but what happens when you eat Marshmallow Peeps while you listen to The Wall?



or while watching Star Wars?



Now this looks like a lot of fun. Reminds me of riding down the giant hill in my cousin's back yard to fly off a ramp and realize that we should have been wearing "nard guards."



The Easter Bunny always seemed like a nice guy, but now I dunno...



This is for Brody...



Happy Easter, yo.

I'd buy it

I come up with many ideas for items to add to my Cafe Press store that sadly, I can't use because of their policies. Not a dig against them; otherwise there'd be tons of bootleg T-shirts and stuff.

But if anyone is ever promoting a children's literature program or something, I've got the perfect T-shirt slogan:

What would Beezus do?

More stuff

Just added a new widget to the sidebar that pulls videos from YouTube and Google Video. Right now, it's using the keywords for 80s commercials and 70s commercials. I may change it from time to time.

Give it a shot -- it looks kinda neat.

They know what they're talking aboot.

I've mentioned before that my brother and I used to watch "The Edison Twins" on the Disney Channel back in the days where in addition to sweet Canadian programming, you could actually watch, you know, Disney cartoons.

Poking around on YouTube, I found a shot-for-shot remake of the opening credits. They also had a picture-in-picture version, in which you can see how exactly they replicated it.

Awesome all around. Check it out.

Hey, Alanis ...

No, this isn't the introduction to the Opposites.

Apply directly to the ...

OK, I think we've all suffered and seen the commercial for HeadOn.

"HeadOn -- apply directly to the forehead. HeadOn -- apply directly to the forehead. HeadOn -- apply directly to the forehead."

They even know that the commercial is annoying; they try to make fun of how annoying it is. No dice. Even more annoying.

These days, they've got ActiveOn, which is a pain reliever of sorts (I think), and FirstOn, an itch ointment. Clearly they are trying to branch out and expand their offerings.

So that got me to wondering where exactly they're going to go next.

Then it hit me: herbal male enhancement pills -- that's the big thing these days, right?

But what could they call it?

Hmm...

Okay, I'm bound to think of something. Just give me a few minutes...

Wild about Harry

I'm wearing my Chewbacca T-shirt in honor of my son, Harry, who would have turned 2 today.

Chances are you never got to meet him; we barely did ourselves. But I admired both his tendency to get hungry exactly a half-hour before it was time to eat and his luxurious mane of hair.

Really. He didn't have just a good amount of hair; he had a mop of Charles Ingallsian proportions.

I still think about him every day, and every now and then I wonder if he's messing with me, whether it's a butterfly dive-bombing me just as I walk out the door or the number on my McDonald's receipt being his birthday.

I'll get back to the off-color jokes and pop-culture memories later. Until then, raise a glass, mug or paper-bag-wrapped bottle (depending how your day is going) and toast my favorite Wookiee.

Apparently not.

I have two things to say about Fox's game show, "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?"

1. I learned of it during a commercial break from a NASCAR race (Brody likes to watch for the first 10 minutes or so). Draw your own conclusions about what Fox thinks of NASCAR fans. I bet they didn't advertise on the National Geographic channel.

2. Fifth-grader should be hyphenated.

The fever for the flavor

Did she just say "Once you taste the fluffer?" Discuss.

All hail the Shat

So it was William Shatner's birthday the other day -- happy birthday, Shat -- and it got me to thinking. I know he's written some books about his days on Star Trek, but has he written a full autobiography?

If not, I've got the perfect title:

Are you buy-curious?

UPDATE: Dumbass me fixed the mistyped link to my own store.

In case you haven't checked out the official Siftin' store yet (for shame), here's a look at one of the items you'll find there that doesn't have my face on it (no snide comments, please).


Aside from the thong with my face on it, I'd say this is the item that's getting the most interest from viewers.

Remember, this is your chance to support puerile humor.

What I wanted to be when I grew up, circa 1978

Pizza farmer

So what's on TV, yo? Part II

Wow, looks like a ho lot of programming lately. Is this a cooking show?

Don't harsh my mallow...

Honest to God, sometimes I just don't get me. Even after 32 years, I baffle myself sometimes.

I blame "Unwrapped." They featured the Valomilk, which is a chocolate and marshmallow confection from heaven. If you haven't had one, then for criminy sakes, buy some online. They're messy as all hell, but I love them.

So stupid me decides that some fresh marshmallow is just what the doctor ordered. After checking the Internet, I found a recipe. But I didn't have a few ingredients.

$21.63 and a trip to yon grocery store later, I had all I needed (plus some chips and fruit). But it would take too long to make them for me to start that night.

So that meant today when I got home from work. With supervision from my son, I got to work. At no time while I was mixing everything did I think it was going to work.

But damned if I didn't end up making marshmallows. They didn't look like the uniform kind you get at the store, but not bad for a first try, I'd say. I even coated a few in granulated sugar instead of the powdered sugar/corn starch mix. I tried one, and it was like biting into an impossibly fresh Marshmallow Peep.

No Valomilk, but still pretty tasty. Now that I am a marshmallow-making madman, I might try approximating a Valomilk. This may end up with my kitchen looking like the aftermath of the Ghostbusters vs. Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man battle, but I have to try in the name of science.

It ain't easy seein' green

Well, it's St. Patrick's Day again. Time for my annual failure to procure a Shamrock Shake from McDonald's. I don't even like them that much. It's the principle.

I explained my mild dislike of this holiday last year, so I won't go into it again...except to add this YouTube clip of a "Color Blindness Teste." If you think I'm going to make a joke about that, you're nuts.




But I am Irish (well, part Irish, anyway), so I feel obligated to do something to celebrate. I smell more YouTube clips coming...

Oh crap, it's Uncle O'Grimacey...



Shamrock Sundaes?



Oh, I get it... he's from Ireland.



And let's end on a triumphant note...

The Ballad of Mr. Mom

I'm going to do my best not to start ranting here, but there's something that just kind of bugs me when I see it, and it happens at least once a month.

It started with a bunch of airline mile points I needed to spend. Jetting off to the Strip wasn't really an option, so I decided to score some magazine subscriptions instead.

Being a parent, I decided to make Parenting and Parents two of my choices. I got my first issue of Parenting, and that's when the trouble began.

I never really noticed it before, but it seems that no one really expects dads to be participants in the whole parenting gig.

It's a worn-out sitcom gag that dad is clueless about things around the house, how to deal with kids, which brand of vodka is suitable for toddlers, stuff like that.

Page after page of Parenting (and Parents to a similar extent) is full of mom-centric ads and features.

I know you have to play to your audience, and I'm going to assume they've done enough research that shows that moms are their primary core readers.

However, despite the comments from various classmates, I am not a female.

There are mom polls, beauty-on-the-go tips and, as I just noticed on this month's cover, "What matters to moms." Sure, more often than not there's a token "Dad column," but it's usually in the back of the issue.

Well, I'm a dad, and with the schedule I work, I am with my son all day long, which is great. Well, you know what I mean. Sometimes the little barnacle drives me up a wall, but he's still awesome. But I'm the one with him most of the day.

I doubt I'm the only Mr. Mom out there, and seeing reference after reference to mom-oriented stuff with the implications (and sometimes not very subtle ones at that) that dads don't care is disheartening. I'm probably a little oversensitive, having already had to deal with being a guy who couldn't possibly give less of a crap about sport without the aid of an electron microscope.

I actually wrote a letter to Parenting and mentioned my concerns. I got a reply that asked to confirm my information so they could print the letter in a future issue. That was months ago, and unless I missed it (I am just a dad after all), they haven't used it yet.

I like looking for parenting tips, but they all seem so couched in the female frame of mind that it's really uninviting to me. There are a lot of dad blogs out there, and I've been checking those fairly regularly, but maybe they should change the magazine title to Momming or my personal favorite, Mother.

I can't help but picture the press crew getting ready to roll the presses, saying "All right, let's turn this Mother out."

Both magazines are full of good reading, but I feel like I'm sneaking a peek at Glamour or Ladies' Home Journal.

Although I have to admit, the Fresh Bloom Allover Colour compact looks pretty sweet, and it's only $29.50.

Why I'm not allowed near the kitchen spices with a Sharpie marker...

The fact that it's next to the nutmeg is just a happy coincidence.

Silly marketers, Trix used to be round already...

Wow. According to the commercial I just saw, Trix now comes in a "new" shape: puffs. I guess it's new to General Mills' target audience, but we immature types who still eat sugary cereal straight from the box (milk is for sucks) know better.

Let's take a look at Trix commercials, shall we? Somewhere on a video tape, I've got a commercial for Trix that predates the rabbit, but I can't find it right now.



He actually gets to eat some in this one:



This one is from TVDays.com, where I've gotten a metric buttload of commercial tapes. I love them all. If anyone ever needs gift ideas for me, that's the place to go.



This one is from my prime Trix-eating days. My first voting experience (and still most satisfying, alas) was when I voted for the Trix Rabbit to get some Trix.



I guess this shows you how old I am. I still think of the switch to fruit shapes is a relatively new change, but apparently they did it back in 1991. Oh well. I still feel like Bob Barker let his hair go white only a few years ago. Shows you what I know.

Bad Movies From A to Z Extra: The rules

When I watch movies for Bad Movies From A to Z, there are some rules that I follow, which, being the kind fellow I am, I will share with you. There is one pre-rule, if you will, that I recommend for others, even though I don't follow it myself.

Watch these with at least one other person.

A small group is even better, but if you have a friend with you, it makes the movie, no matter how bad it is, a little easier to get through. Misery loves company, after all. Plus, some movies really shouldn't be watched alone. This is why many of the movies on my list aren't actually that bad. As horror host Mr. Lobo (who, by the way, is a pretty swell guy) says, "They're not bad movies ... just misunderstood." Words to live by.

Here is the list. Commit it to memory. There may be a quiz later.

1. The movie MUST be watched all the way through without fast-forwarding. Not only is that cheating, but you may miss the one or two pieces of actual plot.

2. If a character in the movie mentions the title of the movie itself, everyone claps. Do this every time the title is mentioned. I suppose you could make a drinking game out of this, but most movies I've seen only pull this gag once or twice. There are exceptions, though.

3. Sobriety is not necessarily your friend. While I have been stone sober for every movie I've watched (strangely, I've never been drunk in my entire life), there are many times when I wished this wasn't the case. As always, drink responsibly, and, for the love of God, never mix beer and Clamato. Seriously. It's vile.

4. You must make fun of the movie. I know some people hate it when people talk during a movie, but this is the whole point. Trust me: it is no better in complete silence. You aren't going to miss the one line that makes it a good movie. It's just not there. Besides, not only will you be motivated to scream at the screen, but you may find yourself throwing things. See rule 9.

5. Snacks are imperative, because some of these flicks are snoozefests no matter what genre. You will need fuel. Plus, what kind of host are you if you have a bunch of people over and don't provide snacks? If anyone has issues with eating during splatter movies, try to find out before you order pizza. Nothing ruins the moment like having to pause the movie after someone does the old Technicolor yawn all over the floor.

6. There is no rule 6.

7. Swearing is encouraged. The more creative, the better. If you aren't much of a swearer, you will be after you sit all the way through something like Pieces and then see the ending.

8. Feel free to point out good parts of the movie. It never hurts to be charitable. But don't overdo it: "Wow, you can hardly see those strings..."

9. Try not to throw anything heavy at the TV. Popcorn's OK, but avoid empty bottles. Or people.

10. Double features are great if you've got the time. Clever pairings can make a painful experience a little more pleasant. Don't just go for the obvious, like Creepshow and Creepshow 2. You can try a classic pairing like I Drink Your Blood and I Eat Your Skin, or something a little different, like The Exorcist 2: The Heretic and All Dogs Go to Heaven. If you are too lazy, Something Weird Video offers a ton of double-feature discs.

11. A good rule of thumb: Sequels suck. They are, in fact, suquels. There are exceptions to this (Evil Dead 2, The Empire Strikes Back), but if the first one wasn't that good, odds are that the second one (and more to the point, the third, fourth and successive suquels) will be worse. That's good news for you, because that's what you want. You can also get cool double-feature discs from Something Weird Video.

12. Small budget does not always equal sucky movie. Just as big budget does not always equal good movie.

13. No matter how bad the worst movie you've seen is, there's always something out there that is worse. One that is so bad, it makes your previous worst movie look like Citizen Kane.

Now! Because no one demanded it!

Sure, there are still like 9 months until Christmas, but why wait until the last minute? Now you can get official Siftin' merchandise from my Cafe Press store, www.cafepress.com/siftin.

For your convenience, there's a link over there to the left.

Right now, there are a few shirts and some other items, all painstakingly rendered by yours truly. As I think of more things, I'll add them to the store. If there's something you're just dying to buy, let me know, and I'll see if I can add it.

Just think: You end up with a sweet T-shirt, and I can take that gumball off layaway. You can't lose!

She's a real looker

On this trip into the Siftin' movie vault, we check out a flick that features a former Daddy Warbucks as well as a member of the Partridge Family. And there's a neato-burrito light gun that's cooler than the one you'd end up playing Duck Hunt and Hogan's Alley with. What more could you ask from a movie? Nudity? Got you covered there, too, even though this is a PG-rated movie. God bless the 1980s.

The movie in a nutshell: A plastic surgeon who has performed oddly specific surgeries on models gets in over his head when his patients start ending up dead, and evidence points to a high-tech company.

The story: The movie begins with a fake commercial for Ravish perfume, which is followed by the pretty girl from the commercial, Lisa, asking Dr. Larry Roberts (Albert Finney) for very specific (and very minor) plastic surgery. He's done three actresses with lists already, but he agrees to perform this, his fourth. His colleague comments that's she's "really a looker."

Clapclapclap.

I like movies that don't screw around. Just bam, and you're off and running. In very short order, the story is set up, one of the characters mentions the name of the movie and the theme song plays over a montage of the plastic surgery, which, for extra bonus points, includes gratuitous breastage.

Nudity in the opening credits is one of the signs of a good movie. To their credit, they do manage to wait until a whole 2:32 into the movie, and it is in the context of the story.

After the beginning credits, Lisa, post-op, answers her door, and expecting it to be her boyfriend (or maybe the pizza guy, because hey, who doesn't like a fresh Cheesy Bites Pizza?), does so in her bra and panties. She opens the door, and there's a flash, along with a whooshing sound, and she's standing there motionless.

When she snaps out of it, she finds a gun case on her bed. She wonders if someone is there. Another couple of flashes, and Lisa gets tangled in the curtains on her balcony. She falls over the side, and the mysterious gunman leaves a ballpoint pen on one of her chairs. He also leaves a button. You suppose this will mean something later?

The next day, Friday, Dr. Roberts arrives at his office and catches up on what's going on. He's got a fundraiser at Reston Industries for the pediatric burns unit, along with routine surgeries.

When this was made, they didn't have Discovery Health piped in 24-7, with such lovely programs as "Face-Saving Surgery" and "Organ Transplants from a One-Legged Pygmy Albino Wombat," so it wasn't common to see footage of plastic surgery. This explains the now-unusual focus on surgery footage in this movie.

Larry's secretary mentions that the police called, but he doesn't know what it's about. Another patient, Cindy (Susan Dey), is in his office waiting for him. She says she just got back from Tahiti.

Lt. Masters from the police department is there to ask him about two patients, Lisa Convy and Susan Wilson. They're both dead, and Masters is looking for information. Susan drove into a cement divider, and Lisa was our swan diver.

Larry asks for their files, and they're gone. Masters asks him if he'd ever visited any of his patients, and he says no. Masters offers him the pen that was found in Lisa's apartment. Oh noes! It's Larry's pen! Even more mysterious, after Masters leaves, he finds that all the files of the girls with lists are gone.

As if on cue, Tina, another former patient, comes to him and tells him that "they" are killing all the perfect patients. She wants to be changed back. She asks if a big man with a mustache has been there before wigging out and leaving.

She leaves her purse in Larry's office. He finds a vial of cocaine and a list from a firm called Digital Matrix Inc. He has his secretary call Lt. Masters to let him know he's going to Tina's apartment.

At Tina's, we see her get flashed with the light. Larry gets there just in time to see her land on his car (I gave her a 9.7. She would've gotten the 10 but her legs split near the end) while he's looking her up on the building directory. He looks up and sees the "big man with a mustache" (and white man's fro, I should add) wearing silvery wraparound sunglasses that look like the Oakleys the bemulleted jocks used to wear when I was in high school.

Lt. Masters arrives, and he doesn't believe Larry's story.

Larry realizes that Cindy is the next on the list of girls, so he goes to find her. She's at a photo shoot. He asks Cindy to go to the fundraiser with him.

Mr. Reston (James Coburn) is eager to meet Larry, and they chat for a while. Reston offers to donate $4 million to Larry's burn-unit project. Over dinner, Reston mentions that he heard about the models' deaths. Larry mentions the link they had with Digital Matrix, which, surprise surprise, is a subsidiary of Reston Industries.

Reston and the head of Digital Matrix, Jennifer Long (Leigh Taylor-Young) wonder if Larry suspects anything.

The next day, Larry hangs out with Cindy while she's on a commercial shoot, which is being directed by computer more than by the actual director. She does take after take, trying to match what the computer wants. Larry checks out the Digital Matrix truck that's on site. Two guys are monitoring where the computer is projecting where Cindy should be in the frame. When they see Larry, they shut the truck door on him.

The commercial director says that Cindy needs to be measured by Digital Matrix. Larry accompanies her, and whle he's waiting for her, Long shows him around.

One of the things they do, she says, is track viewers' pupilary responses to regular commercials. Larry tries it out. The computer recreates the commercial to reposition the product where he was looking.

Cindy is off to get scanned by the computer because she is "perfect in her category." She has to disrobe and stand buck-naked on a platform in the middle of a big room filled with a bunch of machines. The platform drops into one of the machines, and it's there that she gets scanned. This takes forever; she stands on the rotating platform like she's being microwaved.

They are trying to create computer-generated models based on live models. He watches the computer process the audio, and the CG-Cindy says over and over, "I'm the perfect female type, 18 to 25. I'm here to sell for you."

After Larry leaves, Long and Reston discuss Larry and the fact that he swiped a security card. Long says they should search his place with the Looker device. She adds that they already took his file, pen and button without anyone knowing about it (thanks for the pitch to us slower viewers). He agrees but tells her to be careful.

Back at Larry's place, Cindy finds out that she's the only Digital Matrix model who had the special surgery who isn't dead. Larry says he's going to take care of her, but she wants to visit her parents and get some things first.

Her parents are mesmerized by an I Love Lucy rerun.

Back at Larry's place, the guy with the white man fro (played by Tim Rossovich, the character is called Moustache Man in the credits. I will call him Fro-Guy) is back. He blasts Larry a few times with the Looker gun and a few hours pass.

It doesn't have anything to do with the plot, but one of the commercials in the background boasts the immortal line, "Constipation is nothing to sneeze at."

Indeed.

Cindy returns and asks him what happened.

They go back to Reston Industries to take a look at the Looker Lab, since that was the only place he wasn't allowed in. The security card he pilfered won't let him into the main Looker Lab. Fro-guy is hanging out with the guard, and he sees the access card being used. He goes to check it out.

After a close call with a janitor bot, they resume their search for an entrance into the Looker Lab. Larry suspects that the janitor bot is their way in. They hitch a ride on it through the door. He finds a binder on a desk, and sees that Looker stands for "Light Ocular-Oriented Kinetic Emotive Responses."

That reminds me, I'm starting a school. It's called Siftin' Central Randy Educators and Wombats University, or just, well, I think you can connect the dots there.

Cindy watches one of the commercials playing on a monitor in the lab, and after watching for a minute, gets hypnotized and starts chanting "I want it." Strangely, the commercial is not about me or the blog.

The light pulse in the commercial is also the basis of the Looker gun. While Larry is explaining the weapon, Fro-guy is preparing to strike. He blasts Larry with the gun and beats the crap out of him. All the while, commercials are playing in the background. There's a nice slo-mo shot of Larry flying through a window. Fro-guy goes to shoot him again, but he's wearing the protective shades. Larry takes the gun and shoots him. While he's stunned, Larry uses his years of extensive ninja training and kicks him in the nads.

Cindy comes to, and they leave, setting off the alarm. Reston is getting ready for his big show, and he orders Larry to be eliminated.

While Cindy rests back at his office, Larry investigates a mysterious noise, Looker gun in hand. He goes to his office to call Lt. Masters but stops. He hears a noise again. He opens a door and sees smoke, which can diffuse the Looker effect. Cindy has been taken by some guys with machine guns.

He grabs a scapel out of a drawer and waits for his attackers. He cuts one of them, and they leave.

Sunday: Lt. Masters surveys Larry's office. Larry is out on the road, and Fro-guy is trying to flash him with the Looker gun while he's driving. Larry is so intent on his attackers that he almost plows down a pack of nuns, because as we all know, nuns are always crossing the street. That's all they do, apparently.

They manage to get a shot on him, and he wakes up in a park fountain with a bunch of people staring at him. When the police arrive, he's already sneaking away. A lady rats on him, but not before he hops in to the back of a police car. As it turns out, it's a Reston Industries security car. Sugar Bear Security says they have to keep him quiet until the big reception.

Larry finds that they don't know about Looker, so he zaps them and steals a uniform. He walks by Lt. Masters, who sees him but doesn't do anything. He narrowly avoids being spotted by Fro-guy.

Meanwhile, Cindy is being held by Long in a control room.

Reston is making his spiel about his new commercials with computer-generated actors while Larry is making his way up. Fro-guy catches him, but he gets away quickly.

While the presentation is going, Reston and Fro-guy head upstairs to get Larry. Larry ends up in a computerized studio. Now it's a cat-and-mouse game while the commercials are on.

One of the commercials features a CGI senator who is a candidate for the presidency. Did they kill him and replace him with this CGI version?

Another commercial features Cindy as a housewife. Larry pops up, much to the audience's amusement. Fro-guy sees Long behind a screen trying to get to Larry. Not knowing it's her, he shoots her. Before she dies, goes back up to the control room.

Fro-guy shoots at everything that moves, including a camera. Reston shoots at Larry but hits Fro-Guy dead in the forehead instead. While a commercial is being shot and being fed to the audience.

Fro-guy falls on a table that is to be used in the next commercial, which provides a humorous bit in which the kids are complaining about having to eat the same old breakfast -- while there's a dead guy on the table. The dad in the commercial also played the dad in Small Wonder.

Reston finds Long dead and goes back out to look for Larry. There's some more cat-and-mouse-osity between the two of them. Meanwhile, Lt. Masters is looking for Reston. As Reston shoots at Larry, Masters shoots Reston, who dies during a commercial for Spurt Toothpaste.

Larry and Cindy walk off the set together, without Masters asking and questions or even appearing again. The end.

Kthxbye.

Afterthoughts: The announcer in the Ravish commercial at the beginning sounds an awful lot like John Erwin, who did the voice for Morris the Cat and He-Man. And I missed her, but Vanna White is supposedly among the Reston Industries girls. That means she's been in two movies on the Bad Movies From A to Z list, having also appeared in Graduation Day. Kudos to her.

You know, this isn't half bad. Well, okay, it's half bad. But it's still kind of a neat idea for the time. It probably doesn't seem like much of a stretch having computer-generated models now as much as it did when this came out. But here's my thought: If they can place the computer models in the real set, why don't they use CG sets, too? Wouldn't that be easier and cheaper? It's like they thought partly ahead but didn't go all the way with the idea.

Of course, if they didn't use real sets, they wouldn't have had the big chase/shootout at the end, would they?

The entry for this movie on IMDB says that there's 15 minutes of extra footage that features Larry and Cindy trying to figure out Reston's motives for killing the models. That would've been nice to include on the DVD, because there are a lot of unresolved threads like that.

What was up with Senator Harrison?

Since he was in a Digital Matrix-produced ad, is he dead or is it just an example of RI's technology? Are we to assume that if he won the presidency, Reston would essentially be in charge, controlling this puppet president? That might work for TV appearances, but somebody's bound to notice that the guy is never in the Oval Office or making public appearances. And how did they talk him into undergoing the scanning process? It makes sense for a model, but why would a senator do it?

And at the beginning, his office called Larry to (presumably) get some work done. Given that he shows up later in a Digital Matrix commercial, did he get the work done somewhere else so he could be scanned into the system? If he was calling Larry on Friday, there's no way he would've been able to get the necessary work done, let alone heal enough to be scanned, killed and in the system by Sunday.

I also am skeptical about making changes to the millimeter. I know surgeons are good, but isn't healing a relatively inexact science? I've obviously never gotten any plastic surgery done (why mess with perfection itself?), so I'm not sure.

The models in the commercials supposedly emit a hypnotic pulse from their eyes, similar to the one the Looker gun produces. I'm assuming it's slightly different, as putting viewers into a motionless trance would keep them from seeing the commercial, right? Cindy seems hypnotized when she sees one of the commercials, which makes more sense. I just don't see why the gun is necessary, other than -- again -- to serve the ending and have a neat gimmick.

This reminds me a lot in terms of tone and general meh-ness of another Crichton effort, Runaway, which starred Tom Selleck. They're both decent enough way to pass the time, and they have a handful of memorable gimmicks and scenes, but the futuristic aspect doesn't hold up after a moment's thought. They end up coming off as being a bit sloppy.

Bonus points, though, for casting Susan Dey as a model. There's a shot when Cindy is at her parents' house where she walks by a bunch of pictures on the wall that appear to be from her actual modeling days.

I can't help but think that with a little effort, this could be remade, at the very least as a Sci-Fi Original. It's got some good stuff, but there's not enough story to go along with it. That's why they added the nudity, presumably. Gotta keep you paying attention, right?

This is a technique used to much less subtle effect (there's a character billed as Knothole Girl because the main character sees her chestal regions through a hole in a fence, and that's pretty much all there is to her part) in the movie I'll be looking at next time, Microwave Massacre.

You've been warned.

Hats off

I find that I have to resist the temptation to buy things at antique stores and thrift stores solely to talk about on the blog.

That said, here's a picture I snapped with my phone of a hat that I really wanted but couldn't justify spending $7.99 on, especially when I'd never be allowed to wear it.

Open your eyes and hear the magic

It's been a good few months or so for the old craphunter. I already found a copy of the Sgt. Pepper movie soundtrack with the swanky poster inside.

And now, while at the antique mall with my parents, I managed to find another crap movie artifact -- one I didn't even know existed.

I play a little bit of piano. Not well, but good enough that my son can recognize songs. Well, now I can wow him with my own renditions of the songs from Xanadu.

W00t.

Check it out:

And for only three-and-a-half bucks, I couldn't pass it up.

I don't know if I've ever explained my love for the stupid movie. When I was younger, we babysat a girl from my class. She was a little older than me, and consequently, bossy. Third-graders, you know? Our class was structured so we didn't have homework, and every now and then, we'd watch a movie, because we were one of the few families who had a VCR at the time.

My favorite movie was Superman II, where hers was Xanadu. So to avoid arguments, we alternated who got to pick the movie. In truth, it wasn't torture for me to watch Xanadu, even though I certainly made her think so. I liked the ELO songs in particular, and I also thought Olivia Newton-John was a fox.

So over the course of a few weeks, I ended up watching it roughly 70,000 times. I owned the soundtrack album, to boot. It took up permanent residence in the nooks and crannies of my brain, where it lives today, over two decades later.

I'd go into more detail, but I have to save it for when I get up to X for Bad Movies From A to Z. Hey, it was either that or Xtro.

To whet your appetite, here's the trailer.

Only three feet tall

If I were smart, I'd've just read the link and moved along. But no, I'm a moron, so I clicked on it. I managed to avoid hearing but a few seconds of it in years past, but I was intrigued.

Lost footage?

I'm a sucker for the lure of the forbidden, what can I say?

Via the fine folks at PCL LinkDump, I give you the Lost Footage of The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.

Oh, you're welcome.

So what's on TV, yo?

And no, that's not Cinemax.

I'll buy that for a dollar...

A while back I hit a thrift store with my dad, and I came across not one, but two copies of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band original movie soundtrack.

Hot diggety, I'm sure you're saying to yourself.

I still have some love for that movie despite it being horrible on par with Xanadu. And of course, I love that movie, too. I have no shame. Plus, I had the soundtrack (to both, actually), and I listened to it a lot.

I bought the better looking of the two albums (along with some other records -- they were a buck a piece), and when I looked inside, I found both records in their original sleeves, as well as the super-mega-radical poster.

Gaze upon my poster ye mighty and despair:


W00t!

Man, if I wasn't already married, I'm sure that poster would make all the women swoon for me. Well, that and the male pattern baldness.

Add to this my swanky Atari cartridge holder, purchased the same day:



Not bad for a day's work.

The gift that keeps on giving...

By the same token

Good ol' Wil Wheaton discusses video arcades, and if you are close to my age, you'll probably be awash in memories of plunking down quarter after quarter into your favorite video games.

Due mostly to matters of location and age, my video gaming wasn't so much in actual dedicated video arcades, but Chuck E. Cheese, which I guess you could qualify as a video arcade that just happened to sell pizza.

Man, you'd parcel the tokens you got with the pizza very carefully. Was it worth it to drop 2 tokens to play Star Wars in a cockpit instead of playing the upright version for a single token? (Totally.) And what about waiting in line to spend God-only-knows-how-much on Dragon's Lair, where 2 tokens lasted roughly twice as many seconds?

While Ye Olde Pizza Time Theatre may have not been a bona fide arcade, it definitely had the social aspect that Wil talks about. I've never been remotely close to being social, but I played against total strangers without much thought. That's how you learned. Well, you could stand around watching, too, but that wasn't as much fun.

My friend Chris Myers showed me how you could skip ahead on "Crystal Castles" on the first level by going behind the castle and jumping. I'd never have figured that out on my own. That was what we had instead of the Internet: Word of mouth.

My family moved to Tracy in 1985, only a few months after I turned 10. At the time, Tracy was a very small place. The newspaper came out three times a week, which I didn't even know was allowed. We got channels 2 through 13 and Showtime. No MTV. Not for a year or so, anyway. The only bright spot was that Tracy had a Chuck E. Cheese, and it was just down the street.

And when there was a school event, birthday party or Friday night hangout place, you could bet that you'd end up at Chuck E. Cheese. For the first few years I lived there, it was the de facto community center.

The Tracy Chuck E. Cheese is still my favorite. It wasn't the biggest, it didn't have many of the newest games, and the last few years before it closed, it was pretty terrible, but I still smile when I think about it.

I have a vague memory of going there for some school event, maybe fifth-grade graduation or something. We got there when they were opening; they hadn't turned on the video games yet. We were in the arcade area when they did, and it's a sound I'll never forget. Silence, then a giant KA-THUNK, and then the cacophony of all the games cycling through their self-tests and coming to life. Just underneath all that, there was the distinctly metal clinking sound of a token being returned.

I checked the coin return of the machine closest to me and found that it had indeed ejected a token. I was struck by two thoughts:

Did every machine discharge a token? (Darn near, as I recall)

and

Even arcade games liked to drop a deuce first thing in the morning. They were just like people.

Every Friday night, the game room of Chuck E. Cheese was packed with junior high school students, and the drama that they could produce in massive quantities. Relationships were forged and broken in that game room, whether it was winning something for a girl thanks to your Skee-Ball prowess, or as many seemed to do, sharing a kiss or a discrete smoke in the hidey-hole cutout room designed for the preschool set.

I was, not surprisingly, excluded from that whole phenomenon. But I heard about a lot of it Monday morning in Math Lab.

The fun ended when they blocked the entrance to the secret room.

Later in middle school, QuikStop was our after-school stop of choice for a few months. We spent the GNP of Papua New Guinea on "The Real Ghostbusters" game. I usually had the least amount of change, so I'd bow out relatively quickly, but my friends hung in there for a good minute or so longer.

I stopped checking out arcades when all the Mortal Kombat stuff came out. It's not that I didn't like the violence; I just didn't give a crap about mashing buttons to do special moves. Plus, you know, with the home systems doing pretty well, it just didn't seem to make sense.

I still check out the local arcade at the mall, but it's mostly for my son, who loves the bowling games and stuff like that. I think I'd drop dead if I played Dance Dance Revolution, either from embarrassment over my mad dance skillz or a myocardial infarction.

You say "shill" like it's a bad thing...

You may notice if you scroll all the way to the bottom of the movie reviews that there are now links to Amazon.com in case you want to buy the movies and see if they are as I described them.

Theoretically, if someone buys a whole bunch of DVDs, I get a gift certificate for a candy bar or something.

I tried to make them as inobtrusive as possible. If they get really annoying, let me know. I may add other links as I see appropriate, but I promise I won't blog about something solely to put up a link to something insanely expensive (though if you are a video-game freak, check out the link at the bottom).

In the coming weeks, there will be other additions to the old blog. In fact, there's a good chance that you'll be able to get your own official Siftin' swag, because, let's be honest, it's never too early for Christmas shopping.

My son Brody is pitching in. He already came up with a great slogan (I'm totally not kidding; he actually said this): "Choosy mothers choose Jeff."

My little marketer.

Bad Movies From A to Z: When monkey die, everybody cry

King Kong Lives

Sometimes it's not enough to make a remake that no one asked for. Sometimes you have to make a sequel that no one asked for to a remake that no one asked for. Hence, theater screens everywhere were treated to one of the best movies to feature a giant gorilla blood transfusion, "King Kong Lives."

The movie in a nutshell: Kong meets Lady Kong.

The story: We open with a flashback from the 1976 Kong remake where Kong climbs one of the Twin Towers. A trio of copters shoot Kong, and he falls to the ground below. We were to assume that he died.

Atlantic Institute, Georgia, ten years later...

It looks like old Kong is being kept alive by a giant artificial heart. Dr. Amy Franklin (Linda Hamilton) tells a group of people that the project isn't working. The heart, she is reminded, cost 7 million dollars, but it took too long to create. He's been comatose too long. If they cut him open now, he'll die. He needs a transfusion.

Meanwhile, in Borneo, Hank Mitchell finds another Kong -- a female. He calls the Atlanta Institute, but when Franklin finds out that it's a lady Kong, she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything that could upset him during the recuperation. Against Franklin's recommendation, they make a deal with Mitchell.

They bring Lady Kong to the states, and after a brief press conference, they've got her set up to give blood for Kong's operation. Franklin and her team are ready to implant the artificial heart into Kong.

At this point, the DVD refused to play any further, thus sparing me from having to watch the rest of the movie. I slipped it back in its envelope and sent it back to Netflix.

Afterthoughts: I saw this in the theater when it came out, so I didn't feel like I was missing out on anything. In fact, I felt a little relieved that I didn't have to sit through it.

Thus endeth the shortest review so far.

To the moon!

I forgot about the Super Bowl until just after halftime, and the only reason I remembered at all was because I wanted to check out this year's crop of ads.

Some of them I'd seen before (one of the Coke ads, I saw in the theater before "Clerks 2" months ago), and most of the others didn't impress me very much.

I checked out the rest of the ads later on the Intarwebs, and when I saw the FedEx spot, the first thing I thought of was, "Oh man, I have to check Bad Astronomy for this one."

Phil Plait does not disappoint. Check it out. Feel free to read more while you're there. Lots of good stuff. Here's the commercial if you missed it.

Fine, have it your way

I tend to dwell on McDonald's commercials when I wax nostalgic, but I am reminded that Burger King had commercials, too. Whereas McDonald's relies mostly on Ronald McDonald and friends, Burger King uses, well, just about anything they can think of.

Here's the old-school Burger King. I saw him on the side of my local BK a few months ago, and I was quite surprised, given that they seem taken with the creepy Burger King head guy these days. Note the "make me a shake" gag was also used in one of the "Time for Timer" spots ("Could you make me a banana?" "OK, you're a banana.")





The next big push was The Marvelous Magical Burger King, who may look a little familiar these days. This is the Burger King I remember. The kids' meals tended to have magic tricks that I royally sucked at. The MMBK had his own Burger Kingdom, which I suppose was like McDonaldland in its own way. The one that always bugged me was Burger Thing, a burgery face on a wall that talked. I think this is why Thomas the Tank Engine still creeps me out when my son watches it. You be the judge.

Not only was he magical, he was cool. Would you believe (Holy The Search for Animal Chin, Batman!) skateboarding? Oh, believe it.





One thing you could count on in Burger King commercials was seeing lots of familiar faces. A lot of them you saw before they were familiar, but still...

Here are Andrew McCarthy and Elisabeth Shue in a spot that tells the world that Burger King was now selling Pepsi.



As my dad is a staunch Pepsi drinker, we ended up going to Burger King an awful lot once they switched to Pepsi. And I think he was bummed out when they switched back to Coke.

I could tell the story of the time we were in a Burger King parking lot and he took a drink of his Pepsi, tried to suppress a carbonation-induced sneeze and ended up making a very loud "HHHHNNNNNNNNHHHH!" noise, but that would be embarrassing and not very sporting of me.

I could also talk about the time we got to the drive-through and saw that someone had strategically placed a dog turd around the top of the speaker, but that would be gross.

Here are some other famous faces:

Mr. T



Christine Taylor



Sarah Michelle Gellar (if memory serves, McDonald's sued over this spot)



Emmanuel Lewis



And then they had Herb. Herb was supposedly the last person in America who hadn't tried a Whopper, which as David Hofstede points out in his excellent book, What Were They Thinking: The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History, must have come as a shock to vegetarians.

So the search was on for Herb. If you found him, you could win money. The problem was that initially, no one knew what he looked like. Hilarity ensued. Finally, they showed Herb during a special commercial during the Super Bowl, and he was a stereotypical nerdy looking guy.

In fact, when a classmate drew a scathing Mad Magazine-style parody of our class, I was drawn with a button that read, "Not Herb." It was the only positive thing about my likeness.



By 1992, there was Dan Cortese and BKTeeVee, which looks an awful lot like the stuff being parodied in "Reality Bites."



Of late, Burger King commercials are often just plain odd. This isn't necessarily bad, but it doesn't really make me want to buy Burger King.



The so-called "Creepy Burger King" has gotten a lot of grief. I think he's growing on me, though. Not so much that I wanted to buy the Halloween mask, but he doesn't bug me.



This makes me want to go to Burger King even though it's not a real commercial. How about you? (Mildly NSFW; there are birds a-flyin')

Don't it make you wanna scream...

Inspired by Neato Coolville's much superior zombie, here's another less scary zom.



Do your best Vincent Price voice and watch it all embiggened here.

And for you culture fiends, here's a little something I like to call Buttmunch.



Watch it writhe like Tweety Bird on acid here.

It's a family game...

I was going to rip this off of an old VHS tape just so I could talk about it. I even dug it out of the Siftin' archives and got it cued up.

Thankfully, someone has done the hard work for me.

I saw this years ago on a compilation of old Mego toy commercials (it also had the superheroes commercial that featured "The Falcon -- that great black superhero!").

The commercial is for a game called Ball Buster. Being the perennial 12-year-old that I am, I snickered at the name. And I chuckled when the announcer said that the aim of the game is to "bust your opponent's balls."

But it was the bit at the end that really got me. Not surprisingly, this is on my personal list of best commercials ever.



While searching the Intarwebs for more information, I found that the commercial was posted here only a few days ago. Great minds think alike.

It's almost here

I must point out that it is almost National Gorilla Suit Day.

Spread the word and do your duty.

Must...sleep...

We're back from our trip to Las Vegas, and today is my first day back to work. Consequently, I need some sleep before making with the funny.

Worry not; I'll be back before too long.

American Idol, Seattle: Wha-huh?

If I get up to sing in front of people, and in the course of doing so, sound like a dinosaur passing a kidney stone while Freddy Krueger runs his fingernails down a chalkboard and two robots encased in Styrofoam wrestle on bubble wrap in a porta-johnny, I would not be surprised to be told that perhaps singing was not what I should be doing with my life.

That's common sense, isn't it?

I figured that by the sixth season of "American Idol," hopeful candidates would have an idea of what the judges are looking for. Having seen the first episodes so far, I can say that sadly, this is not the case.

Honest to God, I can't fathom why some of these people show up. I haven't decided what the impetus behind dragging themselves to humiliate themselves in front of millions of people could possibly be.

Is it the chance to be on TV?

Do they really think they're that good?

Did they lose a bet?

I know people in this country are encouraged to follow their dreams, but having a dream does not mean that it will come true. I think it's a terrific form of inspiration; something to work toward because you love it.

Dreaming of being, say, a blogging sex symbol is certainly something to shoot for, but is it ever going to happen for me? Not unless they start a three-drink minimum for the Internet.

I admire the chutzpah some contestants have. To a point. I mean, you clearly have to have a pair to say with a straight face that you are a terrific singer when in point of fact, you aren't. By a long shot.

I myself tend to be on the timid side when it comes to confidence about my creative endeavors, so I honestly don't know if people saying they sound like Mariah Carey when they sound like Steve Urkel is a manifestation of overconfidence or a sign of chemical imbalance.

Here are some things I noticed from last night's episode, which featured a bevy of weirdos from planet Zebtar. The first thing is that's it's really hard not to be mean talking about the contestants. I try to root for the underdog, but for the love of God, country and Krispy Kremes, people, give me something to work with.

Brandon Groves -- a repeat offender, this year he came dressed in Uncle Sam-glam attire. He got a very quick "no" from the judges.

Jennifer Chapton (The Hotness) -- Yes, that's her nickname. Not only does she sport that odd cosmetic fashion of wearing lip liner five shades darker than her lipstick (totally The Hotness), but she doesn't take no for an answer, continuing to sing for a year or two after Simon said "no." When spurned by the judges, she broke into a rapid-fire, double-negative-infused speech pattern that you usually hear on "The Jerry Springer Show."

"Opinion don't mean nothin'. Cuz you don't leave no stone unturned."

"He probably listens to that back-country Englishman sheep stuff."

Now as they go into a commercial, Seacrest intones that "Darwin Reedy gets some much-needed support from her mother." The clip shows a platinum blonde in desperate need of a, uh, foundation garment. Nice touch, American Idol.

I really have to stop asking "How bad can they be?" when they show clips before commercial breaks. That's like saying "Well, at least it's not raining" when you're stranded somewhere on a sitcom.

By now I'm feeling bad for laughing at the gag, and now I'm bummed because Amy, the singer with a cold you really wanted to do well, really didn't.

Then we get a montage of stupefyingly craptacular singing, including the "DIE! DIE! DIE!" guy.

And now we meet Darwin Reedy. Her friends call her "Mischa." She has platinum blond hair, black glasses and lipstick so you-can-see-it-from-Pluto-even-though-Pluto-isn't-considered-a-planet-anymore red, it brings to mind the following exchange from "Scrubs":

Elliot: Dr. Cox, does this lipstick make me look like a clown?

Dr. Cox: Why no, Barbie, no ... It makes you look like a prostitute who caters exclusively TO clowns.

The producers either planted her or soiled themselves when they met her.

"I've written a novella, actually, about a singing competition. Actually, there's a character inspired by you, Simon." Wow. Someone who overuses the word "actually" more than I do.

Randy suggests that Mischa bring in her mom, and after she comes in, we see Paula mouth "Oh, my God." This seriously has to be a put-on. After tanking with her rendition of "Don't Cha" by The Pussycat Dolls ("Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?"), she offers to try part of "Sweet Home Alabama."

She accepts the rejection, and I get a commercial break.

Well, it can only get better from here, right?

Third time was the charm for Tommy Daniels. He got a yes from all three, plus a shoutout from Randy for his tight 'fro. It is indeed a splendid 'fro. If the Lord had intended for me to have a 'fro, I like to think it would be like that one.

Melissa Stavros -- She goes by her middle name, Carlene, but Simon calls her Melissa. Randy asks her to finish this song: "I like ..."

And BAM, she's off into "Baby Got Back" without hesitation. I admire the hell out of that. For her real audition, she chooses a Christina Aguilera song. No dice.

The Malakars are pretty good.

Oh dear, this is a two-hour episode. I can only last for the first hour. At least in one sitting. Maybe I should just stick with the highlights.

And...

Let's see, Nick Zitzmann. Oh boy. Eeesh. No.

Hmm.

You know, I was going to just stick it out for Day 2, but after they came back, they showed the efforts of new friends Kenneth Briggs and Jonathan Jayne.

"Simon, you can kiss my --- because I do NOT look like a monkey."

(whistling)

Well, at least it's not raining.

YouTube Monday

I'm still just too darn tired of late to seriously pontificate on pieces of pop culture, so I offer you one of my favorite commercials for that rainy-day recess favorite.

"Pret-ty sneaky, sis."

Glad about Mad

My friend Karyne alerted me to this post on Boing Boing. You can now buy every issue (up through 2005 or 2006 -- I can't tell for sure) of Mad Magazine on DVD.

A few years back, I got a similar collection on 7 CDs, and that went up through December 1998, I think. I'd have to look for sure, and my stupid self packed it in a box that went into storage when we moved. Meh.

This new collection features all the mags in PDF format. The first collection had a neat feature where you could actually fold the fold-in at the end of each issue. I'm guessing you can't do that with the new one, but still, being able to read over 50 years of Mad Magazine is still pretty awesome.

This collection is from the folks at GIT Corp., who also have a handful of Marvel Comics DVD collections, with more forthcoming. I got one a few years ago, the Marvel Comic Book Library, which featured the first 10 adventures of 10 Marvel characters. It was pretty cool, and it's nice to have comics all in one place without taking up tons of room in long boxes.

I still prefer to read the actual comic books (you can't beat that old comic book smell), but it's still pretty handy. I haven't tried out any of the larger collections, but given that I'd never have the money to buy the full run of say, the Fantastic Four, it's an inexpensive way to read some classic books.

Now if only DC Comics would do something similar...

Number 2 with a bullet

I have weird dreams. I'm used to it. I've been skateboarding with Barney Rubble at my grandma's house, been chased through a TG&Y store by Jason Voorhees (all I could see over the aisles were his hockey mask and the long bars welded to the carts to keep you from taking them from the store) and I've fallen from an airplane without waking up before landing.

And no, I didn't die.

A few months ago, I woke up from a dream in which I had been watching a musical episode of "Scrubs." This is fairly common, dreaming about watching episodes of shows that don't exist.

When I told my wife about the dream, it seemed just odd. It kind of came out of nowhere.

It wasn't until a little later that I found out that coming soon to NBC is (yes, you guessed it), a musical episode of "Scrubs."

Why I couldn't have dreamt of winning lottery numbers, I don't know, but here's a little taste of what's in store for viewers.

2007 is already off to a good start

The 365 Days Project returns!

A few years ago, this cool project served up one mp3 a day for a whole year. These mp3s were from sources all around the world -- and a few from even farther away.

You can check out 2003's archive here. This year, the offerings may include more than one mp3 -- even full albums. If it's anything like the first one, there are sure to be some absolute treasures here that if you didn't hear them, you wouldn't believe existed.

And sometimes even after hearing some of them, you still can't believe it. It's a tremendously fascinating effort; I really can't say enough nice things about it. It's a reminder of what rich historical documents old recordings can be.

And to kick off everything, ringmaster Otis Fodder is offering two full versions of items that were excerpted last time around. And wouldn't you just know it, one of them was my favorite, and now I get to hear the whole thing.

Go check it out.

Happy New Year.

New Year's Day.

A time when millions across the world slowly raise their heads -- a great effort given that they feel as though they are composed primarily of lead -- and regale the new year with a hearty, "Oh, dear God, I think I just threw up a file cabinet."

A time when you notice every sound the new morning has to bring, like the birds outside that JUST WILL NOT SHUT UP.

Out of deference to those of you who are trying to hide lampshade indentations with some makeup or are wondering exactly whose clothes you're wearing, I'm trying to type as quietly as I can.

For those of you who didn't enjoy late-night festivities because you either had to work the next morning or your name is possibly on a special list at your local police department, try to be supportive.

Laugh at them quietly.

Happy birthday to The Man

Just wanted to give a birthday shoutout to Stan Lee. I've always been more of a DC Comics guy than Marvel, but Stan the Man has been an influence on me nonetheless.

In fact, I'd have to say that he's one of two influences on my writing voice. The other is Judy Blume. You probably won't detect either one reading this blog, but they're there, I assure you.

Happy birthday, Stan.

Ho, ho, ho, pimp...

Christmas time is (almost) here

You know that tingling sensation you get when you lick a fresh 9-volt Duracell? Imagine that feeling in your stomach. That's how waiting for Christmas felt like when I was a kid.

I don't know if I ever got any sleep on Christmas Eve. Back in the days before insomnia, I could count on two sleepless nights a year: the night before the first day of school and Christmas Eve. The difference: Christmas Eve usually didn't involve a lot of thinking, "Oh God, what are they going to do to me this year?"

Instead, it was all about potential; the unknown. When you're a kid, you don't think about budgets or supply and demand; it's all about the magical list you penned faster than any homework assignment could ever be done, even at gunpoint. It's the time that you simply ask for what you want without thinking about how much things cost or how unlikely it is that you'd get it.

It was almost like magic.

Well, magic fueled by a week of Christmas specials on CBS, with the bongo-fueled special presentation intro.



My brother and I -- when we shared a room -- would talk about what we thought we were going to get until we finally fell asleep despite all the kid-adrenaline. And after a few hours of sleep, we were wide awake again, eager to head out into the living room to see what Santa brought us.

In what we assumed was a cost-saving move to offset the expenses of toy production, Santa always wrapped our presents in layers of tissue paper. You could just see through it just enough to have an idea of what the present was.

Our stockings would be bulging with candy, socks and for some reason I never quite understood, a tiny bottle of after-shave. Maybe Santa was trying to tell us that we stunk. I don't know.

My brother was always trying to get out there before anyone else.

"I'm gonna go see what we got!" he'd whisper.

Then I'd remind him that our parents wouldn't be up for another 2 or 3 hours and he'd scowl at me.

I still remember the year we got the Hall of Justice from the Super Powers Collection. It was the one toy we wanted the most. We had most of the Super Powers figures already, and now we'd have a cool playset for them to hang out in.

When opened, the Hall of Justice had a jail cell (with a trap door) for any villains who meandered by, a meeting table for four (you know Superman always got first dibs on a chair) and an elevator that led to a landing pad for the Supermobile (or if you had a good imagination, Wonder Woman's invisible jet).

And if that wasn't cool enough, when we opened the box, out came the last three figures we needed.

A Christmas miracle.

So now I'm gearing up to celebrate Christmas with my own family, which means one non-TNT viewing of "A Christmas Story," complaining that they showed all the Christmas specials too early again and some serious eating.

But the thing I'm looking most forward to is watching my son open his presents. I can't wait to see his face when he sees what he got.

In fact, I probably won't be able to sleep on Christmas Eve because of it.

Random thought

At what point exactly did "American Pie" decide to challenge National Lampoon for the throne of Once (Arguably) Funny Franchise Now Offering Crappy Direct-To-DVD Movies?

And Eugene Levy, why? Really. Why?

Pac-Man fever

I think it will be hard to explain to my son when he gets older just how popular Pac-Man was in its heyday.

You had your Pac-Man cereal, which was essentially sweetened Kix with marshmallow bits. The Star Wars cereal a few years back was similar to Pac-Man cereal -- or at least was close enough for my brother and me. After it had been out for a while, General Mills made a concession to all the Ms. Pac-Man fans out there and added marshmallows with a "shocking pink bow."

I don't know that I was as excited as this commercial would expect you to be, but it was still pretty good.



There was, of course, a Pac-Man cartoon, which featured Marty Ingalls as the voice of our hero. I'd love to say that it was a groundbreaking cartoon worthy of many repeated viewings, but, well, it was teamed up with the Rubik the Amazing Cube cartoon. That right there shows you the state of Saturday morning cartoons in the mid-80s. Cool song, tho.



Yes, there was Pac-Man pasta. Another brief offering from Chef Boyardee, I don't know if I ever got this as a kid. The only Chef Boyardee product that I really liked was UFOs, which had giant cheese ravioli motherships along with the regular pasta spacecraft. But if you ever wanted to see a cartoon character based on a video game shill for bland pasta, hey, all you have to do is click play.



"Pac-Man Fever" by Buckner and Garcia, was a hit single that was the first big indicator of the yellow one's fame. Imagine someone writing a song about Monopoly.



My favorite Pac-Man tie-in was the board game, which you can read about in great detail at X-Entertainment.

And I've already mentioned the cool Super Pac-Man scratch-off cards.

The hardest part, though, will be explaining how a game this popular was one of the worst games for the Atari 2600.

Peter Boyle, 1935-2006