The e-mail of the species

Some of the people who have e-mailed me -- or more specifically, who have ended up in my spam folder:

Lucy Hand -- the subject line was "Rolex Pimp," which, as Dave Barry might say, would make a great name for a rock band.
Clobber B. Hairless
Carouses G. Reinvented
Deluged U. Dug
Replacement Window Professionals
Complimentary Cruise -- Tom's cousin, maybe?
Radoslav Mcgrath -- Hey, I think he's the co-host of Extra or something
Bread Nielsen
Bamboo Flooring Resources
Tattooed B. Pitied
Reroute F. Hankers

and my personal favorite, Diaper Blowout, which to someone in marketing, may indicate a big sale on diapers. But to a parent, it usually means "No more quiche for the kid."

And on a semi-related note, was that a flatulence joke I saw in For Better or For Worse this morning?

Everything's Archie...

This should come as no great shock, but I always identified with Jughead more than Archie.

Not because I didn't like girls (I did).

And not because I loved to eat (I don't, particularly).

Nor did I wear the funky crown (They haven't been on sale for about 50 years).

But Jug was the oddball outsider friend. And that's me in a nutshell. Plus, if I were ever in the position of having to choose between a gorgeous-but-impossibly-high-maintenance rich brunette and a beautiful-and-incredibly thoughtful blonde, it would be a quick decision.

Yep, I'd go for Betty. It breaks tradition of my preference for brunettes (especially ones with glasses), but how can you not like Betty?

Veronica seemed so much better suited for Reggie. Reggie was a schmuck of the highest caliber, but he was always more concerned with appearances and material things.

Plus, he had a weird laugh.


Yok! Yok! Who laughs like that?

My brother and I inherited a giant stack of circa-1970s Archie books, which have sadly gone the way of Boba Fett into the Sarlaac pit. I've gone through what little Archie stuff I had, but I couldn't find evidence of the "Yok! Yok!" that my brother and I had made fun of so much.

But at a random stop I made yesterday to a library book store, I scored almost 20 different Archie books, and in one of the last ones in the stack, I found it. Proof that I wasn't hallucinating it.

Only one will survive...

The battle royale.

Having been about 10 when the first Wrestlemania came out, the idea of a mass battle was firmly engrained in my little brain.

Add to that a healthy appetite for comic books, and you can imagine how much time my friends and I would spend coming up with ideas of how these battles might turn out.

The Justice League of America vs. The Avengers.

Freddy vs. Jason.

Battle of the Network Stars.

After all these years, it's still hard not to think this way. So when I was up with my son at the crack of dawn so he could watch Playhouse Disney, my tired brain came up with

The Wiggles vs. The Doodlebops!

He wakes up at 5:30. Let's not expect too much from me, OK? To be honest, as kid shows go, they're not bad. It's just after the 50,000th viewing, you get a little punchy. And before we get started, kids, let's remember that neither one of these teams really would fight. Fighting is bad.

Even if it's entertaining.

The Wiggles have the early advantage, as there are four of them compared with the three Doodlebops. If you wanted to even the playing field, I guess the Doodlebops could drag in Bus Driver Bob, but I think I'll stick with the base group.

Besides, if they get Bus Driver Bob, the Wiggles could bring in Dorothy the Dinosaur or Captain Feathersword (the friendly pirate).

The rosters

The Wiggles:

Greg, Murray, Anthony and Jeff

The Doodlebops:

Deedee, Rooney and Moe.

Now that I think of it, the 4-to-3 odds don't really come in to play because Jeff, of course, would be asleep during the whole battle.

Things get off to a rousing start when Murray, wielding his red guitar, dispatches Rooney, who folds like a cheap tent. This is a purely strategic move; Rooney is the team's inventor. By taking him out, that reduces the weapons the Doodlebops will have.

Alas, Murray forgets that Deedee Doodle, like Ben Folds, is a fan of the keytar. There's a dischordant noise and Murray is down, the impression of keytar keys on his forehead and tiny Dorothy the Dinosaurs dancing around his head.

Deedee is clearly on a roll when she puts sleeping powder in a sandwich and offers it to Anthony, who promptly falls asleep after eating it.

But Greg knows Moe's weakness and decides to exploit it. Just in Moe's line of sight is a rope. He tries to resist, but he knows that he can't.

Deedee sees it a little too late.

"Don't pull the rope!"

Moe, true to form, pulls the rope, dislodging a cinder block that bonks him on the head.

That just leaves Deedee and Greg. Only one will survive.

Deedee rushes Greg.

At the last minute, Greg grabs his magic wand from his back pocket and waves it at the top hat conspicuously placed on the floor.

Before Deedee can reach Greg, a rabbit pops out of the hat and grabs her. The rabbit pulls her back into the hat with him, her screams dwindling as she disappears.

The commotion over, Greg sits at the table and sips a cup of Rosy Tea.

It tastes good.

Like victory.

Go Modesto, go Modesto ...

I read in the paper this morning that the Modesto area is the "car theft capital of the United States."

There are many factors involved here, but the one that caught my eye was this one:

"If people would stop leaving their keys in their cars, we would not be No. 1," said officer Rick Applegate, Police Department spokesman. "We'd drop off the radar. But, still, every day vehicles are being stolen (because the owners) left the car running or unattended."

As soon as I read that, this line from the 1987 Dan Aykroyd-Tom Hanks comedy "Dragnet" immediately came to mind.

Joe Friday (Aykroyd): With the exception of you and canned cling peaches, I'd find it hard to find anyone or anything that doesn't know you should never leave your car keys in the ignition.

To be fair, the next line is:

Pep Streebek (Hanks): It's called a mistake, Friday. But I guess you never make any of those, do you?

But still.

I've lived in places where you could leave your door unlocked and not worry about it, but I've never thought to leave my keys in the car.

And if I did, having my stereo stolen from my car (parked in front of my house) because I left the window open would've cured me.

Yeah, it's a drag that you can't leave your car window open on a hot day, but is it really surprising that these things happen anymore?

Complain about the decline of society all you want (I'm likely to agree), but unless leaving your keys in your car and having it stolen is your form of protest against criminals, you might want to just hold on to those keys.

Great moments in human achievement

Prepare to be jealous.

These days, people often say that kids play too many video games and they’ll never accomplish anything.

I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know that playing video games led me to one of my most prized accomplishments.

And no, it wasn’t attention from the opposite sex.

Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair: I earned the coveted (I can never find it on eBay) Seaquest Sub Club patch.

Unlike other Sub Clubs that require you to buy sandwiches (or buy black market stamps on the Internet) before you get a payoff, the Seaquest Sub Club had only one requirement.

Attain a score of 50,000 points or more playing Seaquest on your Atari 2600 and take a picture of it. Send in the pic, and “you'll be eligible to join this prestigious organization.”

Here’s the
proof:

This is from April 1983. Stop laughing at my glasses. There weren’t many options for frames back then.

Note that not only had I scored the requisite 50,000 points, but I had reached just over 112,000. Not bad for an 8-year-old.

After weeks of waiting, I got my patch in the mail, which I dutifully had affixed to my favorite blue and gray jacket. I’d like to think that I wore the jacket to school and downplayed my achievement.

“Oh, this old thing? I got it when I was a kid.”

But I know I was probably more like: “Check it out! Sub Club! I rule!”

Eventually, I outgrew the jacket and handed it down to my cousins. And it wasn’t until a few years ago I even thought of it.

“Fifty bucks for a patch? No way, eBay!”

I mean, I’m good at justifying entirely impractical, nay, even stupid purchases. I paid five bucks for an old multicolored light you used to shine on aluminum Christmas tree even though

A. It was nowhere near Christmas

and

B. I didn’t own an aluminum Christmas tree.

But I couldn’t justify dropping 50 clams on a patch that I wouldn’t even wear in public (OK, I probably would).

As a lark, I asked my aunt if she still had the jacket I handed down to her sons. Luckily for me, she still did. That meant 50 bucks for important stuff. Like groceries. Or a Darth Vader Voice-Changing Helmet.

I also reclaimed some other cool stuff, like the Fisher-Price Movie Player and Talk-To-Me Books. Second childhood, here I come.

Anyway, here’s the jacket and patch, modeled by the ever-dashing Brody.


No, Brody, arms out. Try again.



There we go. Good job!

Now I want to get a cool Greatest American Hero T-shirt like I used to have. Talk about sweet…

Norm!

Finally made it out to Santa Rosa last weekend to check out the Charles M. Schulz Museum. The last time I was out in that area, the museum was still an empty lot.

I had a double reason (triple, if you count the cool candy store we also went to that day) to want to go. Not only am I a big Schulz fan, but Michael Jantze, creator of The Norm, was the museum's cartoonist-in-residence that day.

The Norm is one of my favorite strips. If you haven't already done so, go check it out. Subscribe. It's good fun.

Despite the fact I've met Mr. Jantze a few times at comic conventions, I was still my normal case-of-the-stuttering-duhs self.

He was giving pointers to some of the younger patrons and was signing books and doing sketches. I was going to ask for one of Norm, but then I had a better idea.

In the strip, Norm has a friend who's a huge Star Wars fan -- he dressed as a Wookiee when they waited in line to see The Phantom Menace.

So, in honor of my little Wookiee, I asked for a sketch of Chris the Wookiee.

Behold!



It's really cool and more than made up for the four-hour drive that should've taken less than three. Between that and the candy store, it was a pretty good day.

Oh, and the museum was pretty cool, too. Lots of original Peanuts art, which was really neat to see. They even have some round-headed kid out front, too.



He doesn't say much, though.

Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known

According to this site, it would take 314.31 cans of Wild Cherry Pepsi to kill me from the caffeine.

That sounds like a lot of soda, but I'm a little worried. I don't drink Wild Cherry Pepsi in cans; I go for the 24 oz. bottles. I could do the math, I suppose, but I like living on the edge.

(via Metafilter)

---

I know I should be outraged that grown adults would stoop to such unprofessional behavior, but I couldn't help giggling when I read about this. It wasn't the first derogatory name in this story that made me snicker, but the second one.

I'm forever 11, what can I say? My brother may just have a new nickname next time I see him...

(via Boing Boing)

---

I've been reading "For Better or For Worse" for a long time, and the current storyline has a lot of people talking. Lately, I find myself holding off on reading the strip until I read Gael's summary.

---

While perusing the toy section at Target yesterday (for my son, not me...), I saw a game that I might just have to pick up: The I Love the 80s trivia game. Of all the useless knowledge stored in my brain, stuff about the 80s occupies the largest chunk.

From what I saw on the back of the box, though, some questions require you to sing. With my luck, I'd have to sing "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake, thus putting me in a dilemma.

Torn between my desire to win and my not wanting to admit I know the words...

Meh.

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside ...

Swung by Target to pick up a few things. I guess it's been a while since I had to buy cold medicine for my son (he's got the sniffles), because now you can't buy some of them off the shelf (the medicine, not my son). Pseudoephedrine can be used to make meth, the sign says.

Instead, you grab the corresponding card and take it to the pharmacy counter. You also have to buy it there. At first I thought it was kind of an inconvenience, but then I realized that I didn't have to wait in the long lines up at the front of the store.

It's nice to see that meth addicts are good for something, I guess...

Don't have a cow

I read an amusing letter in the paper this morning about the ongoing controversy on cows and their effect on the environment. The writer suggested sending the cows into space.

My first thought was to wonder if they'd really be able to reach escape velocity. Cows weigh an awful lot, as does any spacecraft they'd be sent in. Chances are that the best they could achieve is maybe a low-Earth orbit.

Which I guess would make them the, uh, herd shot round the world.

I'm so ashamed...

The candy, man

The candy aisle at the local drug store just isn't that much fun anymore.

As I've gotten older, my appetite for candy has diminished substantially. It tastes different, if that makes any sense.

I think even candy makers are getting bored, because all they're doing is varying the shapes, sizes and flavors of established brands.

Don't get me wrong, it's kinda cool to see a giant Reese's Peanut Butter Cup or a white chocolate Kit Kat. But it's not really new.

Now that I'm more of a glutton for punishment than for candy, I've set my sights on less common candy. I developed a taste for Cadbury Snow Flake, which I found at Cost Plus.

But once I said out loud that I liked it, Cost Plus decided not to carry it anymore. I tried ordering it online -- the store I found was out.

Bah!

But there were a few other candies that are for one reason or another, not widely available in my neck of the woods.

I learned of the Valomilk cup from Steven Almond's book, "Candyfreak: A Journey Through the Chocolate Underbelly of America," which is a really cool book. Once I read the description, I just had to try one.

So I ended up ordering a bunch of candy from various online retailers, and I was happy with what I got.

Especially the Valomilk. But it gets kind of expensive -- not so much for the candy itself, but to ship it. Plus, with it being summer, a lot of places don't ship them when it's so hot.

That's why I was pleasantly surprised to find them during a recent excursion with my wife. We checked out Powell's Sweet Shoppe in Windsor because we were in the area, and we'd heard that they had a great selection of candy.

That's no exaggeration. Every candy I'd ordered in the past year or so was there for the buying: Valomilks, Flicks, Snow Flakes, you name it. Ignoring the drool that was likely collecting at the corners of my mouth, I filled a small basket.

I was like a kid in a candy store.

And even better, they also have a soda shop with a similarly electic selection. I sampled a Dr Pepper from the bottling plant in Dublin, Texas. Mmmm....

Roughly $50 later, I happily strolled down the street with a bag of sweets in my hand. Now the fun part is carefully rationing my haul so it doesn't disappear too quickly.

Should you ever find yourself near Windsor, I highly recommend stopping by the store.

Just give them a day or so to restock.

A piece of cake

If those Pillsbury or Betty Crocker folks were smart, they'd market a cake mix that, instead of being a specific flavor (chocolate, spice, rainbow chip), was generic. With small additions of your choice, you make the cake you want.

Sometimes you want to make a homemade cake, but you just don't have the time to sift the flour and all that jazz.

I'd call it Scratch.

"This cake is terrific? Is it a mix?"

"I made it from Scratch!"

Uncontrollable habit

Whenever I get out of the back seat of a less-than-roomy car, I'm compelled to sing a phrase of that mysteriously-ubiquitous-but-don't-know-the-name-of-it circus music.

Not that you asked; I'm just saying.

Thinking too hard?

I read a story in this morning's paper about how this summer's crop of action movies aren't doing so well.

Says "Stealth" director Rob Cohen,

"You had Ridley Scott with 'Kingdom of Heaven,' and Michael Bay ('The Island') gave you cloning. I don't think this generation sources their heroes in this arena. Maybe they'll source their heroes as two guys who crash weddings so they can have sex with vulnerable girls. ... Action films are usually about the male hero, and if you live in a time when you don't believe in heroes, it makes it difficult ... (to) make action films as they've been traditionally defined."

I know this sounds crazy, but could it be that people aren't coming in droves to see these movies because they, well, suck?

To be fair, I have seen very few movies this summer. One, actually -- the new Batman flick, which I thought was pretty decent.

But I've seen enough bad movies to know what I will and won't like. For starters, if you have a theoretically unique plot twist in your movie, maybe you should save it for the movie instead of blowing it in the promos.

It's gotten to the point where the entertainment I derive from movies is trying to guess which character is going to fulfill the formula requirements. Every now and then, they'll get tricky and make a different character do it, which is cool for a second before I remember that they're still making the movie by the numbers.

That's why I tend to watch the stuff I do. I already know that most of them are pretty bad, but I can honestly say that I'm more surprised by cheesy horror and sci-fi movies than with most Hollywood offerings.

I mean, when a guy wakes up to find that he has a giant papier mache turkey head, you've got to give them some kind of credit.

Growth anatomy

Today kicks off Bad Movies A to Z! Let the celebrations commence. As I said before, these aren't all bad movies. They're just not necessarily the popular movies. Think of them as that awkward kid who sat in the back of the class.

Today's movie in a nutshell: The military is testing a new kind of bomb. Our hero, while trying to save someone's life, is caught in the blast. But he doesn't die, he just changes into a monster.

No, it's not another version of The Incredible Hulk.

It's the 1957 Bert I. Gordon classic, "The Amazing Colossal Man."

I first learned of this flick via "It Came From Hollywood" and finally saw it on "Mystery Science Theater 3000" before finding it on video.

The story: Col. Glenn Manning is among those at the testing of a new plutonium bomb. Glenn Manning is played by Glenn Langan. I love it when the main character's first name is the same as the actor's.

If this movie were made today, it would feature Tony Danza.

The countdown reaches zero, but there's no blast. Since they don't know if it will go off or not, they have to just sit there. A low-flying plane is spotted, and efforts to shoo it away fail. It crashes. Col. Manning wants to try to save the plane's pilot, but that idea is shot down. Showing the respect for authority that must have gotten him all the way to colonel, he bolts from the bunker and makes a mad dash for the plane.

He gets about halfway to the plane and then ... BOOM! He instictively shields his face from the blast, which shreds his clothes and vaporizes his hair.

As a result, he blames Superman for his hair loss and becomes his greatest enemy.

Wait. I'm getting my stories confused. Sorry.

Cut to the hospital, where Manning, like this movie's grasp of science, is half-baked. The doctors are dressing him in bandages, putting what looks like stuffing fron a couch cushion under them. Don't ask me.

Glenn's doctor, Paul Linstrom, meets Glenn's fiancee, Carol. He is one of those sensitive doctors, so we know he's in good hands.

To Carol: "I wish I could give you some hope."

The doctors have done what they can, but Glenn has third-degree burns over almost his whole body. They stick him in an oxygen tent and let him hang out in his room.

The next day, a nurse comes in to check his dressings and freaks out. We're lead to believe that his skin is still horribly burnt, but when she comes back with the doctors in tow, they remove the bandages and find that Glenn's skin has regenerated. He still has no hair except for his eyebrows (because he shielded them from the blast).

Suspecting that something is up, the docs bring in the bomb designer, Mr. Kingman, who doesn't think that there's anything particularly amazing about a man surviving a plutonium blast. They look at film taken during the test.

"A man survives an explosion -- "

"A plutonium explosion."

"And then for some reason or other, his skin heals more rapidly than usual. What is the mystery, gentlemen?"

We start a little slow, but things build up a little when Carol is forbidden to see Glenn because of millitary security. She tries to see him at the hospital, but the receptionist on loan from the Department of Redundancy Department tells her that there's no visiting until 2 p.m. in the afternoon.

Undaunted, Carol tracks Glenn down to the Army Rehabilitation and Research Center, which apparently, didn't pay its electricity bill. Nearly all the hallways are dark. This works to Carol's advantage, though, as she uses her ninja training to hide in the shadows before sneaking into Glenn's room.

Having defeated all the security measures at this military installation, what does she do when she sees Glenn?

She screams, natch.

To be fair, he's like 20 feet tall (in wearing a diaper/sarong, to boot) at that point, but still -- use your head, Carol...

Doctors Linstrom and Coulter, apparently the only ones at the base, come and explain the situation to Carol. Obviously, her ninja skills mean nothing to them, as they explain it to her as if she were a moron.

"New cells are growing at an accelerated or speeded up rate."

I know not everyone has the Word A Day desk calendar, but jeez, fellas, give the lady some credit.

If his malady is not cured, then "Glenn Manning will grow until he dies."

Bum-bum-BUUUUUUUUM!

Then there's a dream sequence in which Glenn flashes back to fighting in Korea -- his buddy is killed, and Glenn avenges him by shooting the attacker in the face (!). The dream ends with the bomb going off, which marks the third time they reuse the footage of Glenn being caught in the blast.

Glenn, now awake, is for some reason unhappy being a giant freak of nature. And while the doctors are working on a cure, the logical thing for Glenn to do is, yes, you guessed, it, go on a picnic with Carol up in the hills.

He tells Carol that in college, he was voted man most likely to reach the top. And in case we missed the yuks inherent in that statement, the musical score segues into a trumpeted wah-wah-wahhhhhh.

He thinks he'll never be cured: "I just don't want to grow anymore. I DON'T want to GROW anyMORE!"

(This is the scene they use in "It Came From Hollywood" where Tommy Chong interjects, "Yeah, except maybe some hair...")

Later, Glenn refers to himself in jest as "The Amazing Colossal Man." I love it when movie-makers take the time to try to wedge in the title of the flick in the dialogue. My friend and I used to have a rule where we would clap every time it happened while we watched the movie.

Yes, we were dorks. But back to the movie.

The doctors find that Glenn's growth is taking a physical and mental toll on him. Turns out his heart is growing at half the rate the rest of his body is.

Bum-bum-BUUUUUUUUM!

But just when things are looking bad for our 50-foot-tall friend, Dr. Coulter makes a breathrough. It's a two-part process. To stop his growth they need to inject a compound into his bone marrow. And after that, a "high-frequency stimulation of the pituitary or growth-controlling gland" will shrink him back down to normal size.

I decided to kinda skip past that, because if I tried to figure it out, my brain would've hurt more than it already did.

After roughly 7 hours of rambling exposition, Glenn is on the loose on the streets of Las Vegas, and boy, am I glad I'm not on the ground to get a peek up his sarong.

One of the signs visible is for The Sands, where Danny Thomas was slated to be playing. Old Glenn, I guess, is not a "Make Room For Daddy" fan; he smashes the sign. Vandal! Savage!

Meanwhile, our heroes are nearing Boulder Dam in a helicopter. It's Drs. Linstrom and Coulter, Carol and a ginormous hypodermic needle. Good thing they had that lying around at the base, eh?

Glenn tries to swat the copter down; at this point, his mental capacity is reduced to trying to ape (sorry) King Kong. The copter lands, and they prepare to inject him. They have to get the needle through the bone into the marrow, so they're only going to have one shot (sorry again).

Bingo! They jab Glenn near his ankle, which really seems to bother him. So much so that he takes the needle out and looks to see who hurt him. He eyes the tiny figures down below and lawn darts poor Dr. Coulter.

The Army is approaching, and they're ready to take him down. But Glenn, taking another cue from King Kong, grabs Carol and starts lumbering around the top of the dam with her. They hold their fire until he sets her down.

Once he does, they let loose, and Glenn tumbles down to the water below. All that's left of him are the words "The End!", which float up and fill the screen right before the movie ends.

Afterthoughts: Well, I made it through the first movie on my list. For starting out so slow, the action picks up right near the end before stopping a little abruptly. But this is a good little 50s sci-fi flick. The effects, while cheesy, aren't horribly so. In fact, compared with the next movie on the list, it's practically "Casablanca."

Thrift score*

(* post title shamelessly lifted from this very cool book.)

Went thrifting the other day and snagged an addition to my vinyl collection: Full Tilt, a K-Tel collection. Only set me back a quarter.

Not as exciting as the time I found a dozen He-Man videos for 99 cents each, but still very cool.

That was at what in our household is referred to as The Thrift Store Where Jen Got Crapped On By a Bird. To this day, I don't remember its real name. Don't worry, it only hit her jacket.

Back in the days of entirely disposable income, I used to find quite the stack of stuff at thrift stores. But now that people can try to make a few bucks via eBay, I think they aren't donating as much stuff as they used to. I doubt that I'd find one of my most cherished thrift store finds these days.

I speak of the mighty 7-Eleven smock.


Behold its wonder.

Wore this bad boy to high school graduation practice.

One of my classmates: "Uh, Jeff, why are you wearing a 7-Eleven smock to practice?"

"Why not?"

She could have told the truth, like "Because you might someday want to go on a date," but thankfully, she just looked puzzled and didn't say anything else.

Every trip to a thrift store or antique store holds the potential of a find such as this. Thus, they are thrift adventures!

Who says I don't do anything exciting?

TV DVDs R A-OK! (LOL)

Two words: Sheesh!

We went to Best Buy the other day and in the DVD section, television releases take up both sides of an entire aisle. In contrast, the musicals, take up maybe a quarter of one side of an aisle.

It's like a childhood dream come true: being able to watch your favorite TV shows whenever you want.

To be honest, this has happened before. It was called independent TV stations. Seriously. Before the niche networks started popping up, you could watch the best (and not-so-much-the-best) programs that TV had to offer.

When I was growing up, I had quite a few to choose from: KBHK 44, KTZO (later KOFY) 20, KTXL 40, KRBK 31, KICU 36, just to name a few. Just about all of them are now Fox, WB or UPN stations now.

Visiting relatives or friends who lived far away from you was extra cool if you were staying for a while because they had a whole different set of channels that would show different shows at different times.

Now, it seems, everywhere in the country, you can change channels as much as you want, but you'll always be watching Seinfeld, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, etc.

Theoretically, the niche channels should be picking up the slack, but for the most part, it's the same format, just different shows. Here's part of the TV Land lineup: Gunsmoke, Bonanza, MacGyver, Happy Days, The Brady Bunch, Leave It To Beaver, Green Acres, The Dick van Dyke Show, I Love Lucy, Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie.

Prime reruns, right? Well, yeah, but it's not like you haven't seen any of those shows in a long time. It's like all the popular kids in school. There are no less-popular shows included, like Hazel or It's About Time.

Or B.J. and the Bear.

I surprised my wife when I told her I wasn't all that interested in the Brady Bunch Season One DVD set. I don't think a month has gone by in 30 years that I haven't seen the Brady Bunch at least once, whether I wanted to or not.

I know they play those shows because they're popular They want people to watch. But would it kill them to have an hour of programming where it was like, I don't know, TV Land Presents. You could either show two half-hour shows, or an hour-long show. But they'd be shows that haven't been in heavy rerun rotation.

They're not as popular, and in many case, not as good, but even one or two episodes of a bad TV show has a morbid appeal.

I know; I watched two episodes of My Mother the Car, and I have to admit, it's not as bad as its reputation would have me believe. It's kinda dumb, but it's pretty harmless.

The same thing goes for Cartoon Network and/or its sister channel, Boomerang. This is my message to the programmers there:

Enough of Scooby Doo.

Really.

Doesn't even have anything to do with Scrappy Doo. Just stop, please.

Do I need to see a three-hour block of Turbo Teen? Heck no. But an episode or two would be nice to make sure I didn't hallucinate watching it.

To illustrate the beauty of independent stations (OK, and a little from network channels), here's an example from the April 21-27, 1984 edition of TV Guide.

Let's say that I didn't have to go to school on Monday the 23rd. I don't remember if it was spring break, but let's just figure I stayed home.

Wake up at 6. Head out to the kitchen and grab a bowl of Apple Jacks.
6:10 a.m.: Monkees (Channel 44)
6:30 a.m.: The Muppet Show (44)
7 a.m.: Tom and Jerry (Channel 2 or 31)
7:30 a.m.: Batman, Superman, Aquaman -- the 60s Filmation cartoons (44)
8 a.m.: Superfriends (44)
8:30 a.m.: Rocky and Bullwinkle (31)
9 a.m.: Joker's Wild (Channel 13)
9:30 a.m.: Press Your Luck (Channel 5)
10 a.m.: The Price is Right (Channel 10) -- during commercials or dumb games, flip to Tic Tac Dough at 10:30 on Channel 3.
11 a.m.: Let's Make a Deal (Channel 36)
11:30 a.m.: Toss-up -- either Sale of the Century on 3 or Match Game on 36.
Noon: cough, cough ... All My Children ...
1 p.m.: Match Game-Hollywood Squares Hour (3)
2 p.m.: Match Game-Hollywood Squares Hour with different guests (Channel 4)
3 p.m.: Superfriends (40)
3:30 p.m.: Choice of Bugs Bunny, Alice, Star Blazers, Woody Woodpecker or New Zoo Revue
4 p.m.: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (36) or Superfriends (44)
4:30 p.m.: Superhero cartoons -- a rotating roster including Shazzan! and the New Fantastic Four among others. (36)

After that, it gets to be dinner, and then prime-time shows. But you get the idea.

Of all the game shows, the only one currently on Game Show Network is Match Game. But the first season of the Muppet Show just came out on DVD, and season one of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe is slated for October. There are two box sets of the Superfriends out, as well as the Looney Tunes cartoons. The third Looney Tunes set is also due in October.

And before you ask, yes, the New Zoo Revue is also on DVD. Go nuts.

Pretty soon, you could theoretically replicate the childhood fantasy lineup of your choice via DVD, provided you want to spend enough money.

Or you could make your mortgage payment and buy groceries.

I hear that's what grown-ups do.

Things I never expected to say

While talking to my wife: "I'm down with toaster oven shopping."

Us and them

Okay, let me get this straight.

This week's Us Weekly arrived in the mail today (addressed to my wife, not to me, wisenheimers...) and the cover story is about the interview Jennifer Aniston has given to Vanity Fair.

Boy, I hate when someone talks about a story that's appearing elsewhere.

Er, hmm.

Never mind.

Reasons I need to go to Canada...

Aw, man.

I have this horrible habit of jonesing for things that I can't have.

Like hair.

Or in this case, cherry Pez. In the U.S.A., the folks at Pez phased out cherry in favor of grape.

But if the Internet is to be believed (and why not?), cherry Pez is still available in Canada. Check out more pictures here.

Apple Pez is available in Spain, apparently, but that trip might be a little harder to sneak by.

"You want to go where?"

"Spain."

"You don't even speak Spanish."

"I know."

"So why do you want to go?"

"It's a country with a rich history, it's beautiful and .... they have apple Pez."

At that point, my wife would roll her eyes so hard, she could see back to 1982.

This isn't the first time I've coveted a cool flavor of Pez. I snagged a few packs of cola Pez on eBay a while back. At the time, that flavor was mainly available in Japan.

But a month after I got it, we found a whole buttload of the new cola Pez at Toys R Us.

There's no justice sometimes.

If there was, I'd have cherry Pez.

And hair.

"Who understands those rap guys?"

Is anyone else disturbed that Target has appropriated Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" to sell backpacks?

I knew the song was destined to be used in a commercial, but I was thinking more along the lines of cereal.

"I like Grape Nuts and I cannot lie..."