Those Were The Days...

Last weekend the wife and I picked up a new DVD: Looney Tunes - The Spotlight Collection Vol. 1 (Premiere Edition), and we've been happy ever since. Actually, we were happy before, but now we are happy with some great cartoons to watch. This came about because we caught one of those Bugs Bunny Halloween Specials on The Cartoon Network. This was one of those where they took several "spooky" episodes and strung them together. Those are okay but they're no substitute for the real thing, kinda like listening to a greatest hits album after growing up memorizing every sound in the origianl track layout: it just leaves you uneasy and unsatisfied.

Back in the olden times when I was growing up (we're talking the 1970s here) we lived for Saturday morning cartoons. Let me back up a little and set the scene. Back in the 70s there was no such thing as cable television, and satellites were what the Russians used to shoot us full of radiation and Яed propaganda. This meant that there was no programming for pre-teens or teens at all. We went straight from watching Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood to 60 Minutes at the age of seven. That was it. With the exception of Saturday mornings.

In the mid-70s my family had moved into the Villa Glen Apartments in Bessemer, Alabama. [I have to take a little aside here. I have not thought about those apartments in many, many years. Really didn't intend to mention them in the blog, and certainly not by name. I barely had a concept as to where in Bessemer they were located, or if they even still existed. I don't remember how long we lived there, but when we moved in I was on a tricycle and when we moved out I was still using training wheels, so... On a whim I decided to look them up. Sitting here in my bed, within five minutes I not only found the name and address of my former residence, I am taking a virtual tour of them in a Google car. I lived there about the time my profile photo was taken... it would be another two years after that before Mattel Football would be introduced. Ain't technology grand?]

Villa Glen had everything a young boy could ask for back in the 70s. We would jump our bicycles over the speed bumps. We traded Matchbox cars. We destroyed Johnny West action figures. We played in the dumpsters. (Looking at the online photos it doesn't appear that much has changed around the ol' Villa Glen Estates.) I broke my collar bone jumping off our bunk bed there. Oh, and I busted my head on some bookshelves and got stitches during one of my birthday parties. Come to think of it... Villa Glen was a terrible place to live. Why am I even telling you about it? Oh yeah... Saturday mornings.

My older borther and I would get up around 5:00 AM and begin our day. There was no television that early, only test signals. I don't think those exist anymore, kids, so just imagine your Playstation booting up for an hour and a half. To pass the time we'd go into the kitchen and fix a bowl of cereal. Honeycomb was our favorite. Now, I'm not talking about those little crumblets from the 80s, no bigger than a Fruit Loop. I'm talking about the old Honeycombs from the Honeycomb Hideout with Big Betty. Remember those? Big enough to choke a horse!



We had one of those ubiquitous round dining room tables, the ones that split in the middle to accept a leaf for Thanksgiving, and had that hollow "barrel" between the top and the base. Our army men would fall off the top of that barrel (we spent a lot of time playing army men under tables and Hot Wheels on the backs of couches back then) and disappear into the void inside. We'd all be waiting around like vultures when family came to visit, ready to retrieve our soldiers when the table was pulled apart to install the center leaf.

My brother and I would sit at this table every Saturday morning eating bowl after bowl of Honeycomb and draw. Yep, that's it. Just draw. A spiral notebook or two, some pencils, crayons or colored pencils (depending upon our current grade in school), and our imaginations. We had to use those way back then before Nickelodeon and The Disney Channel came about. The sugar from the cereal may have had an impact on my artwork, but my older brother was definitely the one that got me started down the road of art appreciation. My mother saved some of our stuff from those days and passed it on to me. (Thanks, mom. And I am doing the same for my kids.)

This was probably one of my brother's drawings, although I'm not quite sure. The one below is definitely mine. They are probably from the early Billy Carter Era. I think you can tell that thanks to the influence of great movies like Convoy and Corvette Summer, sidepipes and CB radios were integral parts of our visions of the world.

Here's another Saturday morning creation that was in the stack. I'll go ahead and take full credit for this one, although Sheb Wooley probably deserves a tip of the hat. I have no idea how old I was when I drew this. I sure wish I had documented it in some way:

I think the scene may have been playing out on Mars, but who can be sure?

After we got finished drawing it was time for about two hours of Saturday morning cartoons, with The Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Hour being the central hit. My brother would also watch Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle, but I was too young for it to hold my interest. Everything worked out, though: my brother had reciprocal feelings about Sigmund and the Sea Monsters.

They just don't make shows like that anymore... hopefully.

The Marvel of Disney

By now everyone has heard the news: The Walt Disney Company has purchased Marvel Comics for $4 billion. Actually, I don’t know that any teenaged girls knew about it, but I’ll bet every dateless Iron Man fan did… down to the last pocket protector. I don’t see any way on earth that this marriage is going to work. How are they going to combine a bunch of androgynous mutants dressed in bizarre costumes with these guys?

Now, calm down before you panic… Miley Cyrus isn’t trying on Wonder Woman costumes just yet. The boards of both companies have to approve, as well as the Marvel stockholders. Of course, that shouldn’t be a problem as stockholders are people who look at the profits and bottom lines, not at tights and storylines. The odd thing is that the whole affair has to get the okay from the federal government under the guise of anti-trust law. ANTI-TRUST of what??!! Cartoon characters? Children’s entertainment? Aren’t all of these things optional? How can you… what is the purpose of… in a... just…WHY??!!

And speaking of anti-trust conflicts, the government just spent $3 billion to bailout the entire auto industry through the Cash for Clunkers Program, on top of the $27 billion given to GM and Chrysler earlier. And what have we gotten for our $30 billion dollar investment? The 2010 Sebring? That’s it??!! Marvel Comics was for sale. The Spider-man, Hulk, and X-Men movies made $4.5 billion. Why couldn’t Obama have purchased a company actually worth something?

Anyway, this deal could create some interesting results. Infusing the mind of Stan Lee into Disney could result in Mickey Mouse cartoons I’d actually watch. Donald Duck with a rage-induced transformation. Goofy with laser emitting cuffs. Bambi with adamantium antlers. Yeah, now THAT’s a Disney movie I’d watch. But these three guys? I don’t even want to know what their super powers would be.

Life on the Farm

Recently I’ve had cause to wax nostalgic about those little virtual pets from the 1990’s. Do you remember them? They were about the size of one of those rubber squeeze coin purses, with a couple of microscopic buttons and a key ring: the ubiquitous companion to 8-year old girls everywhere. They were created in Japan where living space is too limited for anything more than a pet octopus. I never understood why they caught on here in America where I can’t get my kids to feed our real dog on what could be considered a humanely frequent basis. For that matter, I can’t figure out what an 8-year old needs with a keychain, either.

Some of you may be wondering what stimulus could cause me to flash back to those now obscure Happy Meal treats. Others of you will know exactly why they popped into my head. Farm Town. I’m watching my wife play it right now while talking to her eldest on the phone. Yes, a grown woman torn between the emotional needs of that which sprang forth from her own womb and a plot of digital grapes. Allow me to fill any non-Facebookers in on Farm Town.

Facebook, the online community phenom, offers numerous activities you can join your friends in, from racing games to mafia hits to Farm Town. To be honest, I haven’t played any of them. Not because they’re inane wastes of time, but because I’m a very anti-social curmudgeon… I mean, because they’re too complicated for me. But of these none has permeated my world like Farm Town. Everyone in the house is abuzz about it. The wife is talking about “checking the farm,” the boys are glued to the computer screen 25-hours a day… even the dog is playing, although I suspect she just likes looking at the pictures.

Apparently, what you do is accept an invitation from a friend to start your own farm, get plants given to you by these friends, grow the plants on your virtual farm, harvest the crops, sell them, buy more plants and land, accumulate digital farmhouses that will be the envy of all of your virtual friends, and… well, think about it all the time. And that’s the hook that makes it different from other games. If you plant, for instance, grapes, you have to come back online in four hours and harvest them or they die. Plant a fruit tree and it may take a couple of days. I don’t know if you have to feed the goats, but I would if I had crops nearby. My wife has actually given her password to a friend so that said friend can harvest her crops while she is at work! (I’m sure 5 or 6 friends will now be mad that they weren’t chosen as the surrogate harvester.) Does all of this sound familiar? Tamagotchi pets.

To point out the insanity I turned to my wife the other night (we were in our office: I, trying to think of something to fill my next blog; she, harvesting virtual pomegranates) and said, “Honey, do you remember those stupid little virtual pets the girls used to play with back in the 90’s?” Her response, and I quote:

They were very stupid, but look… I can buy fences!

Now, please note that my wife is an exceedingly intelligent woman. Her job is complex and turbulent, yet she wades through it like a neap tide. She is conversant on any number of subjects. She is a very talented photographer. She reads books that have no pictures in them whatsoever. But she is addicted to Farm Town. She says she’s not (“I can quit any time I want”), but I know denial when I hear it (“You think I’m addicted? Look at this girl’s farm. That’s a grain silo, for crying out loud!”).

But hey, what’s a little fun now and then? She did point out that I like to waste time and money hunting animals when there’s plenty of meat at the grocery store. And do I really need to waste time writing a blog when everyone else in the world already has one (http://ultimatetoiletblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/marcos-way-of-rating-toilets.html)? And what about the garden out back with all the weeds in it? The real garden. The one that produces real food. The one with real weeds. I turn to suggest to her that we spend some quality time together by going outside and weeding our garden, but thought better of it as I heard her shout:

I’ve got to get control of these chickens!