What day is it?

The more I think about being a kid, the more I really think kids are a little bit nuts. Things that made perfect sense to me as a kid now strike me as bizarre.

Even with as many rules as there are for grown-ups, I think kids had more. Everything had specific ways to be done, from picking teams (Ink-a-Bink or Bubblegum, bubblegum in a dish) to requesting kickball pitches (slow with baby bouncies).

There were even guidelines for the specific days of the week. I don't know what they were at other schools, but this is what we had at ours:

Monday Marriage Day: If you held a girl's hand (or vice-versa), you were instantly bound in permanent matrimony. Until recess was over.

Tuesday Toes-Day: Beware the kids going around stomping on your toes when you're not paying attention. The only way to ward off the attack is by walking on your heels with your toes up. While it protects you from getting stomped, it doesn't protect you from looking like a moron.

Wednesday Wedding Day: I couldn't figure out how this was much different from Monday Marriage Day.

Thursday Throw-Up Day: I don't know that anyone actually did this, at least intentionally. Not a bunch of pukers at my school, I guess.

Friday Flip-Up (or Flip-Off) Day: To kick off the weekend, Fridays were the days that boys would theoretically flip up girls' dresses on the playground. I say theoretically, because, thanks to different growth rates, girls were sometimes taller than boys and would either pound you with their metal lunchboxes or gouge you with the one pinky fingernail they keep long for just such an occasion. I only heard about one kid flipping up a girl's dress, and that was when the days of the week were being explained to me on my first or second day after transferring to the school.

Friday Flip-Off Day was slightly more prevalent, if only for the fact that your can be a little more subtle about flipping people off. Of course, not everyone had the manual dexterity to really flip the bird that well, but we tried as hard as we could, even if we had to hold the other fingers down.

I did not participate in Friday Flip-Off Day because of an incident at my old school in which I, having seen Clyde the Orangutan get many laughs doing so in "Every Which Way But Loose" but not understanding why, flipped off my friend Jimmy, who was standing in line to get lunch. I was immediately disciplined by a passing teacher and had sworn off giving people the bird.

In plain view of teachers or yard duty supervisors, at least.

Extra coolness

Brody and Mr. T have the same birthday. Awesome.

You say it's your birthday

Yesterday was Brody's third birthday. The big 0-3. We decided to get him a neat-o sand table with which he can have all the construction-themed adventures he wants.

He loves digging and scooping, and now that it's almost summer, it's the perfect outside toy.

So before all the birthday revelry began, I put together the table on the back patio -- while it was raining. In May. In California. But did the rain get Brody the Builder down? Heck no. That's all he wanted to do -- just dig in the sand, wearing his hard hat.


Then he took a break.


"It's raining!"

If he could've, he would have probably stayed outside playing in the sand all day. But we're mean parents, and we made him come inside to open presents and stuff like that.

And unless the present in question had wheels, he wasn't interested. Unless it was a book about trucks with wheels. That was okay.

I think next year he might have more of an idea of what's going on. Heck, next year he might even try some ice cream cake, which he typically refuses the way most people react to rat poison or "Xanadu."

Still, it was nice to have the family over for Brody's birthday.

Even my brother.

I guess.

Old-school handheld gaming

I know I say it a lot, but man-o-man, I loves me some Internet.

I was going through a few boxes in the massive Siftin Artifact Archive, and I came across some old Super Pac-Man Rub-Off Game cards. Alas, the cards are so old, the dots won't rub off anymore. Well, actually, they will, but they'll take a few layers of the card with them, so they're not as much fun.

It'll be hard explaining the fun of these things when my son grows up. Actually, it's hard to say that we played "Rub-Off games" without my inner 12-year-old smirking. But fortunately, you can't see me and you'll be none the wiser about how immature I am.

This was the cool thing back in the day; the idea was to rub off (huh-huh-huh...) one circle at a time and tally the points earned for whatever was under the dot. Blue monsters, for example, were worth 10 points. You had to go in a line; you couldn't skip around willy-nilly. If you found three regular non-blue ghost monsters, your game was over. It was like a small paper version of Super Pac-Man.

Step 7 in the instructions tells you to "Use SUPER PAC-MAN stickers as prizes, for trading or collecting."

Here's your prize:


If you want to learn more, check out this cool page. Not only are the Super Pac-Man cards featured, but also regular Pac-Man, Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Dragon's Lair and Robot Wars.

I also remember Video City cards, which featured a few other games.

And while we're on the subject of dubious attempts to cash in on the video game craze, this also came from one of the catacombs in the archives.


Yes, a Defender board game.


I had the Pac-Man board game when I was younger, and I actually had fun moving my plastic Pac around the board, gobbling marbles with it.

This game, well, it cost me 99 cents at a thrift store.

Something to look forward to

Coolness.

I just found out that a movie I've been wanting to see for a long time is coming out on DVD next month, thanks to Anchor Bay (who also made it possible for me to see a special edition DVD of "Supergirl").

I first read about "Cemetery Man" (also known as "Dellamorte Dellamore") in one of the many cult/sci-fi/horror movie review books I have, and it really intrigued me. Alas, the video store selection at the time was not as diverse as I'd've liked, and (this was before Netflix) I didn't end up getting to check it out.

What's it about? Well, quoth the press release:

Directed by Michele Soavi, Cemetery Man stars Rupert Everett (My Best Friend's Wedding and the voice of Prince Charming in Shrek 2 ) as Francesco Dellamore, a cemetery caretaker who finds that his seemingly dead-end job has recently become a little harder. Along with his sidekick Gnaghi (Francois Hadji-Lazaro), Francesco spends his days interning corpses and his nights killing “returners” – those who have risen from their grave seven days after burial. Life changes for Francesco when he falls for a beautiful, mysterious widow (Anna Falchi). When fate intervenes, Francesco must choose between Love Eternal and the Living Dead…

I'm not a huge zombie fan, but this sounded pretty cool. It hits your favorite movie store shelf on June 13.

Well, that's great, Sparkman, you're probably saying, but are there any special features on the disc?

* Widescreen Presentation (1.66:1), enhanced for 16x9 TVs
* Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround Sound
* Death is Beautiful: The Making of Cemetery Man featuring all-new cast and crew interviews including director Michele Soavi, star Anna Falchi and more
* Michele Soavi Bio
* Trailers

It looks like a cool flick, and I'm looking forward to checking it out.

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Mom

This Mother's Day, I made a shocking discovery about mothers. They're like superheroes. No capes or anything like that, but they have amazing powers and abilities that you don't realize until you start thinking about it.

Their hugs can soothe wounds both physical and mental (except maybe severed limbs, but they'll try).

They can alter the flow of time in a fashion that seems to defy the laws of physics, such as when you mention that you're supposed to bring cupcakes for the whole class that day, and you're supposed to leave for school in 5 minutes.

Their saliva is a powerful solvent applied by thumb that can remove dirt from just about any child's face.

They possess seemingly infinite patience, even when faced with children who chase the cat so relentlessly that it poops on the wall in the hallway.

Heightened senses that would put Daredevil to shame (they can tell if you roll your eyes at them, even when they're not looking at you).

I can't imagine anyone more grateful for moms than children, with the possible exception of Hallmark. And See's.

Happy Mother's Day, yo.

No, you're out of order!

A friend asked me a question the other day, and it got me thinking: In what order should the Star Wars movies be watched?

It's hard to decide, but I think I'd have to go for watching them in the order they were released. I know it defeats the point of numbering them Episodes 1-6, but bear with me.

Part of the reason, obviously, is that's how I saw them: 4-6, then 1-3.

But I think watching Eps. 1-3 first could diminish the enjoyment of watching 4-6. For starters, by the time you get to "Star Wars," you already know how Darth Vader became Darth Vader. He's not as mysterious.

Okay, if you haven't seen all the movies, you might want to stop here, lest I spoil them for you.

Part of the fun for me watching the original trilogy (OT) was that you got only bits and pieces of Vader's story. Obi-Wan tells Luke that Anakin Skywalker was killed by Darth Vader. That's what made that scene ("No, I am your father!) in "Empire" such a jaw-dropper. We talked about that at school forever. But if you've already seen the new trilogy (NT), you already know who Vader is.

Not only that, but then you're wondering why Vader doesn't sense who Luke is during the first movie.

Or why Obi-Wan says that Yoda trained him instead of Qui-Gonn Jinn.

I could go on, but you get the idea. I think you have to pick which trilogy you want to be your trilogy.

"Star Wars" brings you in the middle of action, where the Rebellion is trying to topple the Empire. "The Phantom Menace" begins with a breath-taking tax dispute.

I'm also not a big fan of the fake foreshadowing in the NT, especially lines like Obi-Wan's "Why do I get the feeling you'll be the death of me?" to Anakin.

I'm still not convinced George Lucas had the whole story planned out in his head they way everyone says he did. The general idea, sure, but not the details. Otherwise, why would Leia have kissed Luke twice (once in Star Wars, once in Empire) if George knew they were brother and sister? Ick.

If you want to watch the original trilogy old-school-like, the non-Special Edition Star Wars trilogy will be out on DVD in September, despite assurances that the Special Editions were the definitive version.

And then next year, the Super-Definitive entire Star Wars saga is supposed to be released as a box set, and who knows what versions will be in that monster?

And there's the 3-D version George is working on.

Maybe I should just save my bucks and wait till the immersive holographic version comes out.

As long as Greedo doesn't shoot first, I'll be happy.

Surely you chest

The season finale of "The Office" is on tonight, and I can't wait to watch it, and not (as some in my household have speculated) just for Jenna Fischer, who plays Pam. I love this show; it always makes me laugh out loud, no matter how crabby I am.

It even makes me laugh when it's not on. How?

Every now and then, I check the stats for the blog, seeing if the number of visitors has reached double digits, things like that. But my favorite part is seeing how people got here.

A search for "Wonder Twins" usually pops up every week, and fans of "Camp Cucamonga" are apparently not in short supply.

But last week, there was this: "jenna fischer chest."

I love how search engines work. For a day or two, this blog was the top result for that search. And no, it wasn't me making the search, pervs...

This is particularly funny given that the subject of chests had come up on the blog Jenna writes for TVGuide.com.

So to sum up (especially for those readers who are married to me), I don't know her -- even though she's on my MySpace friends list -- and I'm sorry to have disappointed whoever came here looking for something besides pop culture fluff.

An unexpected reaction

While at the grocery store the other day, my son Brody was sitting quietly in the cart until something caught his eye.

"Wow, look at that!" he said. Not loudly, mind you, but I could tell something had really gotten his attention.

I looked at where he was looking, expecting to see a display that featured a car or construction equipment (generally the only thing he notices these days).

Nope. No cars.

A blonde.

My son, the girl-watcher. And he's not even 3 yet.

Free Comic Book Day recap

Free Comic Book Day has come and gone once again, and this year, I had a good time. Not so much because of the free comic books, but every now and then I like getting the chance to be in my local comic book store for more than just a few minutes.

It was neat to see a wide range of people, young and old, male and female, clearly enjoying something they liked. I'm terribly shy, but there's something about being a comic book reader/collector that makes it easy to just fall into conversations with people you've never met.

I was also pleased to get a sketch from artist Ethen Beavers, who is a cool cat. He was very nice, giving advice to budding artists and just talking about what it's like being in the business, not to mention doing free sketches all day. Go check out some of his work here. He also signed my copy of Justice League Unlimited #18, the issue he drew that features one of the funniest characters from DC's Silver Age sci-fi comics, Space Cabby.

Another thing that I really thought was cool was hearing a group of young woman professing their love for the Marv Wolfman-era Teen Titans, which is still one of my favorite comics. It was the first series I tried to collect the whole run of. And I don't remember meeting too many girls who were into comics at the time.

I had more fun in a few hours here than I generally do at giant comic conventions. Whether that's attributable to my dislike of crowds or just that there's almost too much to do at a convention, I don't know.

If you want to see a little bit of what was going on, you should check out this little video piece we did for work. Yes, I was pressed into service in front of a camera. Face for radio, voice for print, if you know what I mean. My part is in the second half.

Marvel at my near-lifelike presence.

The King's Arms? Where's the King's Arms?

While rooting around YouTube, I found this outtake. I also have it on a blooper compilation videotape that I got when I was younger.

To this day, it still makes me laugh. Draw your own conclusions about my level of maturity (or lack thereof).

Note: This clip contains one mildly inappropriate word (that I utter roughly a kajillion times during the course of a day, without much provocation) so view at your own peril!

Rules of the game

It's 2:37 a.m. You bolt upright in bed, your heart pounding like a tympani in your chest. The air is cool on your sweaty skin.

It's just at the edge of your brain and it won't go away until you figure it out.

How do you play "Frere Jacques" on Merlin, the Electronic Wizard?

Luckily for you, all you have to do is hop on the computer and check out this nifty little part of the Hasbro Web site. It's a repository of rules and instructions for their games past and present. It's fun to rediscover games you aven't thought about in years.

They even have the instructions for the Super Powers: JLA Skyscraper Caper 3-D Board Game. I had this and brought it to school in sixth grade so my friends and I could play it at lunch. It was too big to carry home in my backpack, so I stashed it in my locker, figuring I could have my mom drive me back to school and pick it up.

I kept forgetting, and eventually came locker cleanup day. My last chance to get it out, and I totally blew it. Some lucky custodian got to keep it, I presume.

It was a crap game anyway.

Hey, Joshua, it's your birthday...

Twenty-eight years ago today, I was an only child, and I was happy. While I wasn't spoiled, I did get all the toys for myself. Things were good.

Exactly one year later, I wasn't an only child anymore. I was a big brother. To prepare me for the concept, my parents got me a shirt that read "#1 Son." Despite what I thought, it just meant that of my parents' two children, I was born first. It had nothing to do with quality of said children. Well, that's what they said. I had my doubts.

I remember my dad telling me that Josh looked a lot like me when I was a baby.

"Is he my twin?" I asked. I wasn't really clear on the exact definition of "twin." I was 4.

"No, but he looks a lot like you."

I was excited by the prospect of having a little brother. Not only did it mean a playmate and someone with whom I could share all the wisdom I'd accumulated in my four years on this planet.

It meant that I had someone I could order around. A minion of my very own to do my bidding!

I didn't take long to figure out that wasn't going to work. When he was about 2 years old, he would repeat whatever people would say to him. For minutes at a time.

A devious plan formed in my mind.

So I taught him a swear word, which he instantly and enthusiastically began parroting. Satisfied that the stream (or more appropriately, given the word I taught him, creek) would continue for a while, I corralled him into the kitchen, where my mom was getting ready to make dinner.

It almost worked. I saw the look on my mom's face when she heard what her 2-year-old was saying, and that was pretty funny. But then she asked where he heard that word. Without hesitation, Josh, my sweet baby brother, stretched out his arm and pointed straight at me.

The little creep sold me out!

From then on it was a constant struggle to remind him of his place in the fraternal hierarchy. His job was to do the gruntwork. I'd come up with the plans, and he would execute any part that might cause injury to me.

One constant thing about my brother is that it takes a crane to get him out of bed in the morning. This provided much annoyance to me, especially when I wanted him to do something for me, but it also provided some fun.

So sound a sleeper was he that I, wanting to show him just what a butthead he was for sleeping so late all the time, drew a buttcrack down the middle of his face. Even better, he didn't realize it for a while.

Another time, he refused to get out of bed. Out of ideas (and maybe 10 or 11), I told him that if he didn't get out of bed, I was going to fart on his head.

He didn't believe me.

He did after that.

I really wanted to get him a customized birthday greeting from Captain Zoom, but I didn't get the chance. I mentioned a while back that on his birthday one year, he got the personalized record and was scared to tears that a stranger on a record was wishing him a happy birthday.

Maybe next year.

Happy birthday, Scrote.

He's the man behind the mask

Well, here we go again. Like good old Jason Voorhees, Bad Movies A to Z comes back once more. There are so many entries in the "Friday the 13th" series to choose from, but I managed to narrow it down to today's selection: "Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives."

The movie in a nutshell: Nut in a hockey mask slices, dices, juliennes.

The story: Tommy Jarvis (played by Corey Feldman in Part IV) is released from a mental institution; he's been in a few since he killed Jason Voorhees and was traumatized. But he has a feeling that Jason's not really gone, so he and a friend go to where Jason is buried.

Tommy's friend, Hawes (Ron "Horshack" Palillo) joins him in the trek to the cemetery on a stormy night. Tommy plans to destroy Jason's corpse to make sure he's not coming back.

This made me think: Given the problems Jason has caused in the past, wouldn't it be wiser to not have him in a marked grave where anyone could, well, dig him up and try to destroy his body?

In no time flat, Tommy has dug up the coffin. He gets a crowbar from Hawes and pops it open. Ooo, inside is a wormy, maggoty corpse. Yum. Tommy flashes back to when he killed Jason. He gets pissed off and stabs the crap out of the body with a metal fencepost that he rips off the cemetery fence (!). He throws in Jason's mask and turns away to get the gasoline.

Lightning strikes, and before you can say Frankenstein's monster, guess who comes back to life?

Dawes, unaware of Jason's resurrection, says, "My heart can't take any more of this." Hmm. Foreshadowing?

Jason crawls out of the grave and goes after Tommy, who douses him with gas. Alas, the rain kicks in and Tommy can't light a match. Dawes hits Jason with a shovel from behind, and Jason, without too much effort, rips out Dawes' heart. Dawes falls into Jason's casket. Tommy drives away. Jason dons his mask, and we get a closeup of his eye. With a nice homage to the James Bond flicks, the opening credits roll.

Tommy heads to the local sheriff's department and says that Jason is alive. Sheriff Garris thinks it's a prank and has Deputy Rick Cologne lock him up. While Tommy's locked up, the scene shifts to two camp counselors, Darren and Lizbeth, who are heading to Camp Forest Green. There's just one little obstacle in their way -- Jason.

Darren suggests driving at him to scare him away. It doesn't work. Darren reaches over and honks the horn. Jason pops a tire with his blade. Darren gets a gun out of the glovebox and threatens Jason. Jason spear-vaults Darren behind him. Now it's Lizbeth's turn. She offers Jason money, and when she looks up, he's gone -- until he shows up behind her and spears her in the head.

The next morning, some other counselors are asking the sheriff to help look for Darren and Lizbeth. Tommy tells them that Jason is out there. Megan is Garris' daughter, and Paula is Lizbeth's sister. Garris is going to take Tommy to the edge of his jurisdiction, and then Tommy is to get out of town and stay away.

That night, the caretaker of the cemetery is wandering around drunk and singing. Nearby, young lovers Steve and Annette are picnicking/making out. The caretaker says that his booze will be the death of him -- "but what a way to go" -- and lobs the bottle behind him. He notices it doesn't break. He turns around to see that Jason caught it. He breaks the end of the bottle and stabs the caretaker with it. Wah-wah-wahhhhh.

You can't fault this movie for not paying off. Every line serves the story, no matter how mechanically and predictably.

From here on out, the movie settles into a rhythm in which we shift among three focal points:

1. Tommy, who is trying to destroy Jason

2. Jason, who is trying to destroy everyone

3. Sheriff Garris, who is dealing with the other two

At points they overlap, but for the most part, it's a steady rotation. There's an ill-advised comic relief bit thrown in that involves some weekend warrior paintballers, but they end up just being fodder for Jason, so they don't really add up to much.

Near the end of the movie, the pace quickens noticeably, and the shifts speed up accordingly and being to merge.

Tommy and Megan arrive at the camp, ready to put their plan in action. I still don't buy that Megan would be that interested in helping Tommy, but that's just me.

Tommy runs to the dock and throws his bag of supplies in a boat. Megan decides to check to see who's still around. All her friends are gone, and very shortly, so will her dad.

Jason is out looking for Garris, who is also roaming the camp looking for survivors.

Megan all the kids in one cabin -- her dad had herded them all in there when Jason arrived -- and tells them to get back under the beds until she gets back. Tommy tells her to use the squad car radio to call for help. She opens the door, and Sissy's head rolls out.

Megan screams, which gets Jason's attention, but before he can close in on her, Garris ambushes him and beats the crap out of him. Jason fights back, and that's the end of the sheriff.

On the dock, Tommy is getting everything ready. While he's doing that, Jason gets to the kids' cabin, which Megan then runs toward. Jason pops out of the cabin and almost kills Megan. Tommy saves her by calling Jason out on to the dock.

"Come on, maggot head!"

Tommy gets the chains ready to redrown Jason with a big rock. Jason wades out to the boat but disappears before he gets there. Tommy pours gas on the water and lights it, waiting for Jason to resurface. He pops up behind him and wrestles with him on the boat. Tommy struggles to wrap the chains around Jason's neck. Jason cuts Tommy's arm and disappears again. When he pops back up, Tommy lassos him with the chain. The boat breaks, and they both go down. An underwater struggle ensues. Tommy appears to drown, and Jason lets go, letting him rise to the surface.

Megan goes to check on Tommy. She dives in and swims toward him. While she tries to bring him back to shore, Jason grabs her leg and tries to pull her under. She starts the motor on the boat, and Jason gets a propeller to the head/neck/chest. That's gotta smart. A bunch of bloody goo rises, and Megan brings Tommy back on dry land. Is he dead?

I know I'm supposed to care during this very tense moment, but I swear, the only thing that occurs to me is that one of the kids standing near Tommy is wearing a Masters of the Universe shirt with Mekanek on it! Sweet.

Tommy lives!

"It's over. It's finally over. Jason's home."

But if you think about it, it's not quite over. Megan still doesn't know her dad is dead.

Cut to: a sunny day. Beneath the lake's surface, Jason rests. We cut close and he opens his eye. He's still alive. So what the hell was all that blood? A bad cough?

The Alice Cooper song ("The Man Behind the Mask") at the end credits, while dated, is still kinda catchy.

Afterthoughts: I picked this one because at one time, it was my favorite of the series. Watching it now is, not surprisingly, not as much fun. The comedy elements for the most part are OK, with the exception of the paintballers I mentioned earlier. One of them is killed when Jason grabs him by the arm and whirls him into a tree face first. As the victim falls, we see the spot where he hit is a bloody smiley face on the tree. That's just a bit much for me.

One of the kid campers reading "No Exit" was better because it was funny without really interrupting what limited dark mood the movie had going.

And that's probably one of the big problems. This just didn't feel scary at all. It's too paint-by-numbers, I think. Even as a youngster, I knew that this was just to highlight the gore effects and body count. You end up just counting the beats, wondering how each victim is going to get dispatched. But since each death is telegraphed by a mile, even that isn't much fun. There's a big difference between suspense and impassioned anticipation.

There was also a lot of exposition, which I think added to the lack of suspense. It seems as though they felt obligated to explain Jason's history. On one hand, I appreciate this -- just like comic books, every installment is someone's first -- but how much do you really need to explain Jason? He's a nut in a hockey mask who kills people. It's nice to know his motivation, but since it really has no bearing on anything in the movie -- other than him killing everyone at the camp -- it just slows things down.

I didn't notice this back in the day, but the music in the movie just isn't working for me. I don't fault Harry Manfredini, who also did the music for all the other "Friday the 13th" flicks up to this point. I blame the choice of one instrument -- the electric piano. The score is a victim of its time. The normally spooky, atmospheric music, which is quite effective in other parts of the movie, just sounds like a TV Movie of the Week once that electric piano comes in. A minor complaint to be sure, but added to the other things I mentioned, makes the movie a touch less scary.

On the good side, I liked Sheriff Garris. He was one of the few characters who came across more like a person than a placeholder. Seriously, when I was taking note while watching this, I had to go back and forth, pausing so I could get the characters' names. They're usually mentioned at the beginning of the movie, and only a few times after that.

Also, this is the first one where I got the feeling that Jason was really the central character in the series. This really went a long way in building a mythology for the character, something that other movies would build on later.

It's not as much fun as it was when I was younger, but is still a solid entry worth checking out. I found the trailer on YouTube. Check it out for a taste of the fun.

When you're lonely, you can Talk-To-Me

No, it's not a really old mouse.

This contraption, the Fisher-Price Talk-To-Me Player, is essentially a teeny-tiny upside-down record player.

It was used to play the not-coincidentally named Talk-To-Me Books, a collection of children's books that featured such stars as Mickey Mouse, Bugs Bunny and the Muppets.

You plunked the player on the part of the page that had a mini-record embossed on it. While technically a simple operation, those kids with less than stellar hand-eye coordination had a hard time lining it up properly.

I fondly remember the click-and-coiling-spring sound it made when you pressed the play button. Then the page would come to life, reading everything on the page.

It was a cool (but mildly time-consuming) way to listen to stories, especially for the kids who couldn't read yet.

Being a nerd, I had a hard time not reading ahead to the end of the page.

If you come across these books at a garage sale or thrift shop, odds are you'll catch #2: Disney's "Ghost Chasers," an adaptation of the 1937 cartoon "Lonesome Ghosts." That was the one that came with the player.

My brother and I gave ours to our cousins once we outgrew them. Thanks to my aunt, I reclaimed the books once my cousins had outgrown them and I had decided to archive my childhood.

I've had them in storage for the past few years, but now I'm thinking of cracking them open for my son so he can enjoy them before he gets old enough to openly mock technology from my youth.

When I looked these up on the Internet to find more information, I found this page on Wikipedia. The technology for this toy was developed by Reynold B. Johnson, who among other things, appears to be the reason we all had to use No. 2 pencils on our test forms.

But the article said he also brought us the disk drive and the videocassette, so I guess that makes up for it.

Just because I'm a nerd, I took the player off the shelf and tested it on a Bugs Bunny book, "The Desert Island." Nada. Well that just wouldn't do, so I popped it open and MacGyvered it with (no kidding) a rubber band.

Granted, it didn't work well, but it played the record. Slowly. I hooked a mic into the computer, recorded the playback off the player's speaker and ran it through Audacity. Speeding it up about 15% seemed to do the trick. You can listen to the first page below.

Coming soon...

I spend way too much time on YouTube, but one of my weaknesses is intermission clips from the golden age of the drive-in theater.

I have one of Something Weird Video's "Hey, Folks! It's Intermission Time!" compilations, and I love it. It's about 2 hours of nothing but clips -- no actual movie trailers -- and I've watched it a kajillion times. I need to get others in the series just so I can see some new stuff.

Some of the ads for the concession stand are amazing in the fact that the food looks quite repulsive. Part of this is the age and discoloration of the clips, but some of them are just gross-looking.

I saw one that advertised pizza -- back when everyone apparently called them "pizza pies" -- and it really doesn't resemble pizza at all. I've seen roadkill that looks more like pizza than in some of these ads.

Happy Earth Day to those of you who live on Earth

In honor of Earth Day, I'm recycling a handful of old posts that

1) you may have missed if you are a new reader, or
2) you haven't been able to read because your cherished printed copy is worn out from re-reading.

The first real entry.

This one and this one. I mentioned offhand that on "The Superfriends," the Wonder Twins didn't touch rings together, despite what everyone else in the free world seemed to remember. Then I got some responses and had to piece together the puzzle.

Lest you doubt me, here is a crappy picture of them initiating the change merely by touching their fingertips.


If I remember correctly, they are being held by a giant robot version of their space monkey Gleek.

The Doodlebops vs. The Wiggles

One of my favorite movies.

More fresh and steaming content on the way...

The Roaring Forties?

I got this week's issue of Star in the mail today.

Shut up, I had frequent flyer miles to cash in before they expired.

Anyway, I'm flipping through it, Tom Cruise, bla-bla, Nick and Jessica, yawn, etc.

In a feature on the return of the fashionable hair band (the accessory, not Whitesnake), I read the following caption:


Forties, Twenties, what's two decades?

This is only my second week of the Star. Last week's issue got a passing grade if just for the picture of Jenna Fischer from "The Office."

That sound you just heard was my wife's eyes rolling.

We'll see if the Star can redeem itself in the weeks to come. I'd like to think I made the right choice spending my points on this magazine instead of The Wall Street Journal or Men's Health.

Ooh, a crossword puzzle...

The Screech of a dying network

On Monday (well, Tuesday morning, technically) at midnight, Cartoon Network is offering the following program to its vast legion of animation enthusiasts:

"Saved by the Bell."

Seriously, what the hell, Cartoon Network?

It's bad enough that sister channel Boomerang, "Your 24-Hour Network for Classic Cartoons," has shows such as "A Pup Named Scooby-Doo," "Baby Looney Tunes" and "Tom and Jerry Kids" on the schedule, but "Saved by the Bell" on Cartoon Network? Really?

For crap's sake, you could just blow the late-night slot with "Cartoon Network's Crappy Cartoon Cavalcade" and give those reruns of "The Gary Coleman Show" and "Chuck Norris Karate Commandos" a breather. God knows there are plenty of crappy cartoons in the collective vaults at Cartoon Network.

Turbo Teen, anyone?

How does this look for Cartoon Network? Well, to quote Bayside's own Jessie Spano, "I'm so excited, I'm so excited, I'm so ... scared!"

(via Cartoon Brew, among others)

More Easter fun

learned very early on that when it came to Easter egg hunts, I just plain sucked. I guess I didn't take it very well. On the back of this picture, my grandmother made the following notation:

Well, surely once I'd started kindergarten, my egg-seeking skills would have improved, right?


Nope.

Happy Easter.