thinglets: Retro Cereal Colour Wheel
Agree? Disagree? Let me know below.
When culture gets overinflated, yet refuses to pop, I want to be there with the needle. Enlightened cynics of the world unite! Express your love or hatred of things from the sacred to the mundane.
By the way, there's a good chance any podcast you listen to may have language not suitable for children. If you don't want to take a chance on hearing the occasional f-bomb, don't listen.
Agree? Disagree? Let me know below.
Concerning the candy I grew up with, the poverty others grow up with, the love story I told with one letter, and how watching TV doesn't have to come with shame.
Whether its called a time suck, a time killer, or a time waster, people are accused of occupying their time with pursuits that are determined by other "industrious" folk as wasteful.
The Lucky Charms Leprechaun
A wicked retro trip back to Saturday morning in the 70s. The Krofft Supershow had a host of cheesy parts that made up the epic entertainment experience, but perhaps the cheesiest was Electra Woman and Dyna Girl. And as the post title indicates, in this clip they follow the Sorcerer who's bent on traveling through time to steal the Mona Lisa from Leonardo Da Vinci.
Start digging on the wrist communicators - you KNOW you want one!
I grew up with this demented, surrealistic freakshow called The Uncle Bobby Show every day as a kid. I don't think it ever extended outside of Canada. You know that creepy, perv uncle in everyone's family... this is him.
If you want to subject yourself to a WTF? moment or two as you watch the daily Birthday celebration from a host I'm sure was polluted beyond belief and a guest "Birthday Picker" who looks like she rolled out of his dressing room two minutes earlier, you gotta check this out.
Bimbo the clown looks like a hobo on a ripple bender and the crazy marionettes that fall from the ceiling are the icing on the demented cake - enjoy!
Okay, if you weren't from Canada (and specifically Ontario) you may have never seen the Polka Dot Door while growing up. And, if you never saw the Polka Dot Door, you never saw Polkaroo. Polkaroo was one of the best legal trips one could have as a kid. Always a bit surreal and bit insane, the Polkaroo could express a million thoughts with any number of well-placed instances of the ubiquitous "Polkaroo".
Take the three minute trip of this video clip, or, to translate: "Polkaroo? Polkaroo!"
Many Canadians are all too familiar with this classic cartoon from the National Film Board, but for the benefit of the unitiated, I submit for your perusal, The Cat Came Back. If you just can't quite appreciate the storyline, you'll probably find the music quite infectious. It's sometimes years between seeing this short for me and I usually smile a nostalgic smile every time. Hope you enjoy it.
I know some of these clips will seems ridiculous to anyone who did grow up with them, but these are the video games of my childhood. Not to say I didn't drop ton of quarters into arcade machines every week, but a video game at home was the holy grail. And I guess for some it still is.
Never let it be said that the iPod touch cannot be used for a long form blog post. I said in a recent podcast that I never thought I'd be podcasting about hockey, but I'm Canadian, and after some 70 or so podcasts and a couple hundred blog entries, I think I'm entitled come playoff season. As I sit in a Montana's in Mississauga (restaurant chain for the uninitiated) I am watching the NHL playoffs on multiple TVs and recalling a few memorable times that hockey has influenced my life.
The only time I ever felt like a sports hero was at age seven when I scored an overtime goal on a breakaway and, for the first time in my life, intentionally lifted the puck off the ice for the winner. And while I enjoyed many other moments playing hockey, that moment ranked right up there.
A couple of decades later I had bit more of a surreal hockey moment when I spent the one semester if my post-secondary life in a university residence during Teachers' College. Sitting in our floor's TV lounge/common area, a group of us foul- mouthed Canadians in a US Teacher Ed. program (all guys in the room at the time mind you - and at a university that still bore the vestiges of a Franciscan monestary... save your Catholic jokes for later) learned that Mario Lemieux had been stricken with cancer in the prime of his career. In the five months I spent in that dorm, I never heard the place so quiet... eerily so. You wouldn't think that a collection of some of the most misogynist mouths I'd ever heard could be stunned into silence at the news of a hockey player's illness. No one spoke for several minutes, or at least until the next gratuitous sex-filled beer commercial anyway.
The last hockey memory comes in the form of a trip to Las Vegas. The moment itself was hardly earth-shattering, but did suffice in conveying a vast gulf between two culture. On the one occasion I've been to Vegas in October, I happened to be sitting in the MGM Sportsbook in front of a sea of television screens (a place I often refer to as Valhalla). That night was a major playoff game between the Red Sox and the Yankees and the room was full of fans in official MLB attire hootin' and hollerin' as their teams played what I'm sure was an amazing. My friend and I, however, sat at the far end of the room watching two small screen that were playing NHL games. It was the opening night of the regular season. The games were insignificant. I think Minnesota and the Ducks may have been involved. And we were in our glory.
There was a popular beer campaign a few years back that rifled off a dozen reasons to claim "I AM Canadian". And while I would never claim that Canadians have a sole claim on the game that I was raised with, I never watched one of those commercials without thinking, how many people could explain the following: Peter Puck, putting the biscuit in the basket, straddling the blue line, going roof, Savardian Spinnerama, neutral zone trap, or why 92 goals or 215 points in a season are feats of biblical proportions.
