tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85378013495812898832024-03-17T04:13:23.825-04:00Uber-Dork (The 8-Year-Old Me)The adventure continues... right after this.Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-64347194141601708292021-11-23T08:26:00.051-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.100-05:00Blank Check<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_hlVQ3y18A/YXulw7gMpyI/AAAAAAAAPaM/5GEIPqIVh_oiOwxi7lpRfV608g817rW0gCPcBGAYYCw/s1500/MV5BNWM4M2QwOWUtNGMwMS00Nzg2LTg0YjktYTU4M2ZhYTMwYTU5XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQxNzMzNDI%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="993" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_hlVQ3y18A/YXulw7gMpyI/AAAAAAAAPaM/5GEIPqIVh_oiOwxi7lpRfV608g817rW0gCPcBGAYYCw/s320/MV5BNWM4M2QwOWUtNGMwMS00Nzg2LTg0YjktYTU4M2ZhYTMwYTU5XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQxNzMzNDI%2540._V1_.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>1994. You'll remember that year as being the time two "rich white boy" movies hit the screens. This is the other one. And while <i>Richie Rich</i> (Macauley Culkin) was busy just inheriting his wealth (ah, the American dream), this one, (uh... the kid from ...<i>Family Ties</i> anyone? Yeah don't look up his <a href="https://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/gossip/family-ties-child-star-brian-bonsall-sentenced-two-years-probation-assault-charge-article-1.166178">post-acting activities</a>... he's <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20200205224743/http://www.filmindustrydigest.com/brian-bonsall-then-and-now/">"moved beyond that"</a> and good for him!) he was busy just stealing his way to the top (also the American dream), proving that those truly are the only two ways of "making it" in life long before it was common knowledge to anyone who isn't a boomer. <div><br /></div><div>So, as all we millennials get ready for the inevitable second coming of the Great Recession, let's take a lesson in why the whole American dream of financial independence is the sham we all know it is, taught very well in a little movie from our childhood called <i>Blank Check.</i> <o:p>First of all, it's actually smarter than you'd think it should be for a <i>Home-AClone</i> movie with heavy <i>Aladdin</i> overtones, with a premise that (on the surface), while far fetched, is at least a bit more thought out for a live-action Disney kids movie. The basic idea being perhaps the most Disney of all: if you can't make it to the top on the back of your own output, simply buy out everyone else's thefts and collect the rent. As such, it's WAAY less insulting than <i>Richie Rich </i>("if only the rich kids had <i>more</i> friends!!"), although not as "memorably awful" either. This kid was living my dream as a kid, and suffering for it. Welcome to life. </o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p>Now, as a guy who's watched quite a bit of <i>American Greed</i>, I can tell you how this kid went wrong in his fraud scheme. He got greedy rather than smart. </o:p>This kid makes the most boomer move any millennial ever has, which means in the eyes of the boomers who made this movie, it's "wrong." But seriously, like most fraud schemes, it's pretty telling that all this kid needed to do to get away with this scheme was start investing to shore up the gains (like anyone who steals a lot of money does)... but unfortunately, like any typical 90s kid, he just goes hog-wild, and it's only by a stroke of luck that he does get away with it. I suppose this same kid would've grown up to be a r/WallStreetBets WIZZARD... but for the time being, back in 1994 or so, he's just the typical "90s flannel, backwards-hat dorkwad"... just like everyone on r/WallStreetBets used to be back in 1994, God bless them. </div><div><div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sB-Lq1Qw_OI/YZy6YFG3IeI/AAAAAAAAPqo/Ykp1DQB493kQLqB3Cauo7JdYuyfTSPKbwCLcBGAsYHQ/s720/bc-d02.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="720" height="108" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sB-Lq1Qw_OI/YZy6YFG3IeI/AAAAAAAAPqo/Ykp1DQB493kQLqB3Cauo7JdYuyfTSPKbwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h108/bc-d02.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><o:p>The movie o</o:p>pens up on a dark heist that makes you think it’s a
Terminator movie... or at least a very, very intense episode of <i>Are You Afraid of the
Dark?</i> It's the dark of night, and a shadowy man is stealing money from a stash under a sewer grate? Then... HARD CUT to an extreme close up of this kid dork's face dead-eying you and calling you “dad” like he's in a daughter's-first-Tampax commercial. Well, it seems this precocious runt's name is "Preston" and he doesn't want his older butthead big brothers (presumably named "Beevis" and "Butthead" respectively) to open their "business" up in his room. After shoving him around and calling him "penis breath" or "penis minor" or "penis penis" or whatever big brothers call their little brothers, they start holding each other's feet and throwing around the kid's <strike>coin jar</strike> I mean, "life savings." His dad (the military secretary dickcheese from <i>Independence Day</i>) starts lecturing him about how he "had his own business at his age" polishing cars for 75 bucks a week. (Well, DAD... with stagnant wages since the 70s and the cost of living six times what it was back then...) <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZcxjNWDQaE/YZy30aauISI/AAAAAAAAPqg/zXMDBvUMfJMzluhszzNFBlHXfI46TXcagCLcBGAsYHQ/s931/BlankCheckButtToFace2.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt=""butt to face..."" border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="931" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZcxjNWDQaE/YZy30aauISI/AAAAAAAAPqg/zXMDBvUMfJMzluhszzNFBlHXfI46TXcagCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h151/BlankCheckButtToFace2.png" title=""butt to face..."" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"butt to face..."</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>Anyways! Dad gives the bros a computer to do their "Hand to Foot" business on (sounds like they got an OnlyFans account)... that’ll <i>“do everything
but teach them how to make love to a woman." </i>You guessed it! It's the Mac Performa 600 (otherwise known as "Your Elementary School Computer"). The
important thing is this computer has a text-to-speech program that Preston immediately makes say <i>"Damian and Ralph"</i> (his brothers) <i>"sleep BUTT to FACE… BUTT to FACE… BUTT to FACE… BUTT to FACE....” </i>over and over again, to which they reply "who told you?" before the two of them headlock and bend <i>him</i> over BUTT to FACE. They punch him in the shoulder and order him: <i>“DON'T RUB IT! Be a MAN!” </i>Now <b>there's</b> that good ole' Toxic Masculinity just like I remember it! I'm telling Twitter on you! (Seriously though, in the 90, this kid is more like <i>#FailingMasculinity</i>... amirite fellas? Just don't hurt me anymore...)<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kR3oFtkd5pc/YXulzLJpiWI/AAAAAAAAPaU/pjK5Ixxedpc8G7ZV0VgXYdHclYPMb54cACPcBGAYYCw/s619/tumblr_oly2db4htO1upr0ygo1_640.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="619" height="108" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kR3oFtkd5pc/YXulzLJpiWI/AAAAAAAAPaU/pjK5Ixxedpc8G7ZV0VgXYdHclYPMb54cACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h108/tumblr_oly2db4htO1upr0ygo1_640.png" width="200" /></a></div>So his home life sucks, so how does he do with his peers? Well, he's invited to the birthday party of this spoiled ginger kid named Butch from school, but because his dad is such a cheapskate, he only sends him off with a couple bucks. <i>"You can
have fun all day on that”</i> dad says. He gets there and this Butch kid looks like the GAP mugged Ronald McDonald's Mini-Me. Every
sleeve is its own primary color. At least the birthday is at this theme park called "The Funzone"... but ouch... too bad all fun is strictly BYOB (bring your own bucks), which means
Preston is out of luck and all alone riding the cheap kiddy rides. Thus, the poor can never break the
cycle of poverty. Instead, they always have to wave from the splash zone of the rich kids as their water slide rains down upon the poor kids' cotton candy! </div><div><br /></div><div>Welcome to America!<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u-ZyHBNZxk8/YZy6zmf2MmI/AAAAAAAAPqw/oCElU-JnVYMF-s4kDWsKQn6YJPXx9eH5wCLcBGAsYHQ/s780/stream-blank-check.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="780" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u-ZyHBNZxk8/YZy6zmf2MmI/AAAAAAAAPqw/oCElU-JnVYMF-s4kDWsKQn6YJPXx9eH5wCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h113/stream-blank-check.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Over dinner, kid confronts his parents about why they're so cheap when they're not actually poor. It turns out his parents are just boomers. <i>"Save your money son."</i> Easy right? <i>“Well, how can
I save money if I don’t have any?”</i> <i>“A penny saved is a penny earned.”</i> But that's when he gets the most Millennial birthday present ever: MONEY. It's a blank check from grandma. Dad writes "11.00" dollars on it with the sage advice: <i>“Now you’ll be
surprised how fast 11 dollars will grow with interest.”</i> Naturally, this kid does the millennial thing and fact checks his
parents’ BS on the computer only to find out that it would take 342,506
years at a (VERY GOOD) interest rate of 3.45% to grow into a million dollars.
At this point he realizes his parents are idiots and he decides he wants to one day have enough money to "buy his own house" and have his brothers "knocked off" ...and "investing in the bank" just ain't gonna do it. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ktQbLqP8268/YZzGOmtQh-I/AAAAAAAAPsU/gUSK8ndp5qsDJr5n4e-O5v77Q9CylWhLwCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/BC3.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="600" height="117" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ktQbLqP8268/YZzGOmtQh-I/AAAAAAAAPsU/gUSK8ndp5qsDJr5n4e-O5v77Q9CylWhLwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h117/BC3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice kicks... Juice.</td></tr></tbody></table>Meanwhile, we meet this corrupt bank manager named Biderman (who looks like his part was written for Wayne "Newman!" Knight but he was obviously too busy being eaten by a Dilophosaurus in
1993, so instead they seemed to have gotten the... <i>Deitech.com guy?</i> How appropriate...). He has snitched
on a few too many corrupt bank investors and now one of them named Quigley (looks like Smith from The Matrix) has come to
blackmail Biderman into laundering crime money for him. He tells him “someone” named “Juice” is gonna show up with a blank check tomorrow... just give
him the money, send him on his way, and your family doesn't get harmed. Gee, I wonder who will get to him first?<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FISxIqjAZMc/YZy8cdshBGI/AAAAAAAAPrM/678bXcDGcoAhV96fzvFtXqBlFA_N3cjHwCLcBGAsYHQ/s791/MV5BZmRiY2VmNDEtYTU1MS00ZjM2LWIxYmQtZmEyMjY2YmZhZGMyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="515" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FISxIqjAZMc/YZy8cdshBGI/AAAAAAAAPrM/678bXcDGcoAhV96fzvFtXqBlFA_N3cjHwCLcBGAsYHQ/w130-h200/MV5BZmRiY2VmNDEtYTU1MS00ZjM2LWIxYmQtZmEyMjY2YmZhZGMyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>So kid goes in to cash his $11 check in what looks like the
Philadelphia train station lobby (that's a bank??) and instead discovers his heterosexuality with this gorgeous bank teller lady named Shay (played by Karen Duffy... who played... uh... another character named "Shay" in <i>Dumb and Dumber</i> the same year... thank you IMDb!) who asks him if he’d "like to make a deposit" (damn girl... I think I might!). But he can’t open an account without a 200
dollar deposit, so she sends him off, but just as he’s leaving, Butch comes out
of nowhere and steals his 11 dollar check. He gives chase on bike and ends up almost backed over by none other than Quigley who's also leaving the bank. The guy does what every rich asshole who knows he’s at fault for the accident does and
offers the kid a check for the damage<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just
so he doesn’t have to see his insurance go up. He signs a check to the kid
but the presence of a police car makes him flee the scene, so now the kid has a "blank check" from this guy too... one that has a lot more money behind it than grandma ever will. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The bike is still ruined though, and his parents tell him it's his fault for "not
taking care of it." They’re not up for giving him a new bike now, but it’s not a
bike this kid’s after. Like most millennials, he wants "his own house, his own
money"... and his own shit, all gangster and squinty… but his parents make it impossible for him.
<i>“You’re grounded!”</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">THAT is the millennial experience. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JGWc3TgNoUc/YZy8KMy_REI/AAAAAAAAPrA/xs7evBv8_TY9wHQuIjcZaDYDyC-1tXEywCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/54261bd2de94a163ae44a218ad74fa175d6310c1d2a88e0b52ced9fb1f1e5d46._RI_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1600" height="138" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JGWc3TgNoUc/YZy8KMy_REI/AAAAAAAAPrA/xs7evBv8_TY9wHQuIjcZaDYDyC-1tXEywCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h138/54261bd2de94a163ae44a218ad74fa175d6310c1d2a88e0b52ced9fb1f1e5d46._RI_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Unlike most millennials though… this one has a blank check. He uses the
computer to create a fake check from the blank check for 1 million dollars,
made out to “Cash.” Technically legal (as far as I know) as long as there’s money
behind it, which to his surprise… there is! And so, just like his parents, Preston learns that the only way to really make money in the world is
to cheat and get absurdly lucky… which he doesn’t, because instead of getting
the boner-fide hot chick teller the next day at the bank like he wanted, he gets the shriveled up, hunched over Barbara Bush-looking old crone where all boners go to die. She
doesn’t believe that he’s got a real check but still takes him to the bank
manager anyways to see about cashing this cool "$1,000,000." Biderman thinks this kid coming in to collect a
million smackers with the Quigley check is the “Juice” the guy was talking
about, to which the kid replies,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>“No thanks, not
thirsty.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fzMjYAVSris/YZy9yVOZtDI/AAAAAAAAPrU/244uoo-7-Wgs89rhu0rK-7nMz9N2O76EACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/source.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="500" height="132" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fzMjYAVSris/YZy9yVOZtDI/AAAAAAAAPrU/244uoo-7-Wgs89rhu0rK-7nMz9N2O76EACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h132/source.gif" width="200" /></a></div>Either way, the kid ends up walking out of there with a million dollars. How he does it, he can't even fathom. But while he's leaving, the actual Juice (played by rapper Tone
Loc... in a role that was obviously written for Ice Cube... but once again, he was probably busy in the mid-90s doing something called <i>Friday </i>or something) shows up looking to collect for Quigley, and now the hunt is on for the
kid who already walked away with it! Quigley finds out and utters the most
boomer thing any boomer ever said: <i><b>“I worked hard to steal that money Biderman!
And you gave it to some zit-faced little kid??” </b>"I don't know, he seemed to have nice skin to me..." he says. </i>All three of them know what the
kid looks like, they just don’t know who he is or where he is, and because it’s the 90s, they can’t
just look for big purchases in town… speaking of which…<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8FsOUg-7tY/YZzHTWjJbTI/AAAAAAAAPsk/86SWbyMt5SEFPgHYcpv2-AJoGx6GQqbigCLcBGAsYHQ/s620/picture-2-620x.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="620" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8FsOUg-7tY/YZzHTWjJbTI/AAAAAAAAPsk/86SWbyMt5SEFPgHYcpv2-AJoGx6GQqbigCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h113/picture-2-620x.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Before the day is over, the kid is already buying this
freakin’ CASTLE utilizing some Kevin McCalister computer voice shiz to put
a cash offer on it by phone. His mom interrupts to say she’ll be home by “3” and
as a result, he ends up outbidding the competition over the phone (none other than Quigley himself), so he spends 300g's and buys the house
before they even know his name (this WAS before the housing crisis after all). They ask what his name is and he frantically looks around… so he makes the computer read: <i>“My.
Name. Is. Mac. In. Tosh.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Certainly
sounds like it!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so, this "Mr. Macintosh" now owns a castle, and the kid makes it rain on his bed and rolls around in the stacks-on-stacks-on-stacks... <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ArcYsviAow/YZzBOJpM99I/AAAAAAAAPr0/Wq0GCqYvD8k7glluEHt7G6kOZfMfeApdQCLcBGAsYHQ/s512/henry.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="512" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ArcYsviAow/YZzBOJpM99I/AAAAAAAAPr0/Wq0GCqYvD8k7glluEHt7G6kOZfMfeApdQCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h151/henry.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Anyway, while Preston is checking out his new CASTLE digs he meets his
new limo driver chauffer he ordered with his money, a guy named Henry (a guy who's part was obviously written for John Candy or even Chris Farley... but ... well you know). He's a loveable oaf, a funny-man with jokes tailor-made for a 10-year-old boy who forms a quick bond with the kid Uncle-Buck-style, and seems to follow him around on his shopping spree in town. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WgNcXKdI2NU/YZy-VpWORqI/AAAAAAAAPrc/LdZmYL_LTWos1DvviDUceaQiu2Wi6f41wCLcBGAsYHQ/s301/Brian-Bonsall-Preston-Waters-Blank-Check.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="301" height="106" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WgNcXKdI2NU/YZy-VpWORqI/AAAAAAAAPrc/LdZmYL_LTWos1DvviDUceaQiu2Wi6f41wCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h106/Brian-Bonsall-Preston-Waters-Blank-Check.gif" width="200" /></a></div>So what follows is the obligatory <i>“Money (That's What I Want)”</i> song
montage where the kid goes on a shopping spree with his limo driver… including
changing room fashion show makeovers, big wall-o-Circuit-City-TVs, VR headsets, massage chairs, NERF and
Super Soaker guns, Tennis courts, basketball courts, roller blades IN the shopping
mall, and garbage barrels full of ice cream and whipped cream mountains, with life-in-the-fast-lane head-out-the-sunroof-of-the-limo-while-eating-Haagen-Dazs-in-oversized-hillarious-sunglasses hijinks… etc. Henry asks the sensible question of why “Mr. Macintosh” is
spending all this money on a kid, and Preston replies that “his boss” (Mr. Macintosh) is really
rich but never had a childhood, so now he’s having the childhood his rich "boss" never got to have. Insert your Michael Jackson joke here. <p class="MsoNormal">He sees Shay jogging on the side of the road, so he stops
his limo to talk to her and says he’s ready to open his account at the bank because he's working for a rich guy named "Mr. Macintosh." Like any good bank employee, she tells him to come on down and open that account!! <i>“Nice kid, real nice…”</i> Henry replies and they drive off. Well, it turns out she's not a bank employee at all. In fact, she’s only
out running to relay info to her fellow FBI field agents who are out on the stakeout looking for Quigley
and his cronies. And even though she shirks this suddenly-rich kid off for now, soon
she’ll discover a lot of cash is also "suddenly" going through the bank marked by
the FBI from all these purchases under that very same suspicious name
“Macintosh.” Hmmm…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8iyxpHKIEmA/YZy-tXssiqI/AAAAAAAAPrk/SZSWXDiJ7Tg3dbSVO3EW27LgYRuSk7SIACLcBGAsYHQ/s552/Blank-Check-Water-Slide.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="310" data-original-width="552" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8iyxpHKIEmA/YZy-tXssiqI/AAAAAAAAPrk/SZSWXDiJ7Tg3dbSVO3EW27LgYRuSk7SIACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h113/Blank-Check-Water-Slide.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Next we join the kid on move-in day as the Sharper Image,
Coca-Cola, and a water slide company (among many, many others) are setting up this kid's (and EVERY 90's kid's) personal XANADU at the neighborhood castle. This is where his dad learns
about his son’s new “job” working for “Macintosh” in this rich castle, and is
skeptical at first, but can’t argue with results! And what follows is the obligatory <i>“I Want Candy”</i> montage of the
kid having fun in his own 90s kid Shangri-La… including his own outdoor backyard
go-kart track, bouncing castle, Velcro wall (like something out of <i>Wild and
Crazy Kids</i>), trampoline with bungee chord lift, full video arcade in
his living room, and swimming pool, all book-ended with the equally obligatory "feet-up-on-the-office-desk" pose. He’s playing his video games with his limo driver buddy Henry and being fitted for fancy
clothes, sliding down his water slide, and having drinks delivered to him on
RC speedboats in his big pink car pool float in the middle of his below
ground swimming pool like he's Tony Montana. Basically, he’s living. And best of all, when Butch shows
up, just like Tony Montana, he has his paid security throw the kid out. </div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srTxT1h98gU/YXulw6ZUVVI/AAAAAAAAPaM/BvUnCqEEuI4CQaZSn4MIBH2dlsghDOGlQCPcBGAYYCw/s930/1_-0aNpaIj6c6zNFoXGgLi4Q.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="930" height="152" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-srTxT1h98gU/YXulw6ZUVVI/AAAAAAAAPaM/BvUnCqEEuI4CQaZSn4MIBH2dlsghDOGlQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h152/1_-0aNpaIj6c6zNFoXGgLi4Q.png" width="200" /></a></div>But when Shay comes by looking for
“Mr. Macintosh”… of course it's... okay, you... you can stay. He couldn’t make it to the bank to “open his
account” because he "had to work," he says from the middle of his swimming pool.
But he gives her a check for 200 dollars to open an account after retreiving it from the house and sliding down his water slide from his office right into his pool. <i>“Looks like you
fell into some money...”</i> she says. She knows something’s going on. She tries to set up a meeting with this “Mr. Macintosh” but of course "he’s busy"… "but <b><i>I'm</i></b> not..." he says. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PJ4omPGgbFM/YXulwh8A0kI/AAAAAAAAPaI/Mgv9x0U3IxskFd1PI_QwAcqSAew9sSmeQCPcBGAYYCw/s600/1_4xB8uK3whS7HhQkFQ6l_Ew.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PJ4omPGgbFM/YXulwh8A0kI/AAAAAAAAPaI/Mgv9x0U3IxskFd1PI_QwAcqSAew9sSmeQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h150/1_4xB8uK3whS7HhQkFQ6l_Ew.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So he sends his driver out to pick
her up later that night and she agrees to do it. “Okay, it’s a date then,” she says. <i>“A… date??” </i>But he’s never been on one of those! So he gets advice from Henry. And Henry's advice is the advice of every dad who ever lived: <i>“Women love a good body… women love all you can eat salad bar… women love a
pocket full of hot wings… women love the word non-committal…”</i> (Damnit, I knew I was doing something wrong!) So what follows is another montage of Preston and Henry
fighting in a backyard blow up boxing ring, I guess in an effort to "get him chiseled" for the date, but also flipping around in a backyard
gyroscope ride, lawn bowling in a giant ball, playing backyard sumo
wrestling with comically fat blow-up suits…etc. <i><b>Oh-right!</b></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8cHPcpdYKQ/YXumAHiT5XI/AAAAAAAAPaU/k3-eSimmJsEg6elXbytrQCmaRQg7o5XOQCPcBGAYYCw/s503/blank-check-ss2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="503" height="125" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8cHPcpdYKQ/YXumAHiT5XI/AAAAAAAAPaU/k3-eSimmJsEg6elXbytrQCmaRQg7o5XOQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h125/blank-check-ss2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But apparently all this time “working for Mr. Macintosh” is
making Boomer Dad mad, so he grounds his son. Preston replies, “but it’s my
job!” Dad replies, <i>“Your job is to be grounded!” </i>(Oh hamburgers...) But Preston does a very Trumpian thing by bribing his dad out of his own grounded-ness
by promising to show "Mr. Macintosh" his dad’s investment prospectus for
pointers on how to get the most out of investing. Naturally this works. So our boy Preston has a hot date and needs to get to the fancy restaurant to go meet up with his fine fully grown adult girlfriend with a.... VERY low-cut dress....<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ilYTV8MEXbA/YZzGpeVGBlI/AAAAAAAAPsc/Qi1Q9UDQyKgod24Wln95l93S8b8z6hnkACLcBGAsYHQ/s470/Blankcheck3.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="470" height="108" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ilYTV8MEXbA/YZzGpeVGBlI/AAAAAAAAPsc/Qi1Q9UDQyKgod24Wln95l93S8b8z6hnkACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h108/Blankcheck3.webp" width="200" /></a></div>....And here we go. We’ve seen this before…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>young boy puts the moves on grown-ass adult
woman… and somehow wins her over! Well... we KNOW she’s just on a "fact-finding
mission" about this “Mr. Macintosh”… and heck, she even turns down the obvious<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mafia wife hush-present gold heart necklace
he bought for her (and no woman does that), but come on... This movie is setting this up as a romance plot. She's like, “It’s way too expensive.” And he's like, “It’s
deductible… just a little business gift... it's nothing... Mr. Macintosh has a million dollars.” <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal">Shay: “You know, a million dollars doesn’t get you much these days.” </p><p class="MsoNormal">Kid: “Do you think he
should’ve asked for more?” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Shay: “What does Mr. Macintosh do anyway? Is he an entrepreneur?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Kid: “No, he’s American.” </p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(“Okay, kid checks out…” she's thinking.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D-InHxRe0Dg/YZzArZNj3DI/AAAAAAAAPrs/EM7G9rwAuFg0XuXFTh8EQjOhuWQrcbAEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s804/MV5BMjViMTM5ZjctNTkyNC00YTQ2LWE4NzEtMzgwZGUzMDQyOTE2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="804" height="152" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D-InHxRe0Dg/YZzArZNj3DI/AAAAAAAAPrs/EM7G9rwAuFg0XuXFTh8EQjOhuWQrcbAEgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h152/MV5BMjViMTM5ZjctNTkyNC00YTQ2LWE4NzEtMzgwZGUzMDQyOTE2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But the two of them really do hit it off. He learns she’s not
married and that he’s probably the "shortest guy she’s ever dated," before
ditching the fancy place (in Three Stooges style slapstick scene) for hamburgers at the mall’s fountain park where the
two “love birds” have their little Groundhog Day style “fun date” in the water
jets. And yesh.... it’s all totally natural looking and not the slightest bit
weird seeing this kid and this grown-ass woman having a slowmo "fun date" together arm
in arm and getting soaked as the music swells emotionally. Unfortunately, this "every young boy's WET dream come true" is tragically cut short for him (like most wet dreams are) by the sudden
appearance of Quigley and his goons who show up to apprehend him, but the
presence of the water jets and his quick limo getaway cut them off. On the ride over,
he invites her to <s>his</s> Mr. Macintosh’s "birthday party" the next day, and like "Guy of the Year" tells her "bubbye!" as she's getting out of the limo. Smooth kid.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JOyKeW4jRGM/YXulxvKMFRI/AAAAAAAAPaM/D1hkz3EnZVsGz8XpnaKAVRlW_0XKqCaSACPcBGAYYCw/s259/download.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="259" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JOyKeW4jRGM/YXulxvKMFRI/AAAAAAAAPaM/D1hkz3EnZVsGz8XpnaKAVRlW_0XKqCaSACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h151/download.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So it’s the day of the big party and we learn that his
brothers are now also working for "Mr. Macintosh" (but we know it’s really Preston just
making his brothers slave for him at his personal batting cages). His hired party planner (this woman named Yvonne I think) is prepared to make "Mr.
Macintosh’s" birthday the Project X of the year and get the whole town out to see this mysterious rich "Macintosh" man in the flesh… but we kind of get the idea
that Preston is tired of being second fiddle to a guy who doesn’t exist. His
only real friend is Henry the chauffer guy and even he’s getting lied to
anyways. It’s basically the plot of <i>Aladdin</i> at this point. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He goes to the park to go make some friends like a normal kid for a second, but ends up getting chased
by the bad guys who spot him out and about. He evades them once again in an overly elaborate
chase scene involving them crashing their car and the most obvious line of the
entire movie, delivered by Biderman: <i><b>“Wouldn’t it just be easier to steal
another million dollars?”</b> </i>Um YEAH! Though the kid escapes unscathed, the evil trio picks up Butch at the park and the kid sings
like a canary on who and where Preston is and joins them in their quest.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Preston gets back to the party to hear from his big bros
that Shay might just be a “golddigger” (because obviously they are right and yes, she would be) … so the seed of doubt is planted in
his little head. That night he asks Henry before the party if she might be a
“golddigger” … and the lovable oaf gives the kid very wise advice that Trump obviously never got:
<i><b>“Anyone who is your friend because you have money is not your friend at
all”</b></i><i> </i> and <i>“A fool and his gold are soon
parted.”</i> But then... Henry gives him some more sage "dad" advice all the more Seinfeldian, and I quote: </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal">Henry: “A fool and his gold is soon parted." </p><p class="MsoNormal">Kid: "What's that mean?"</p><p class="MsoNormal">Henry: "It’s
one of those old sayings man, I don’t get ‘em… like, you ever hear there’s more
than one way to skin a cat? You ever hear that one? What does that mean? I mean... who
skins cats? And there’s not more than one way to skin a cat... there's one way... you skin the cat. You grab the cat, and rip its fur off. I mean, think about it. What’s the number two way to skin a cat? What? Do
you put a hose up the cat’s butt and he gets so bloated that he skins himself?
What? Does he have a little piece of Velcro under his butt there and you just
un-velcro him? No. ... Kill two birds with one stone… how does that happen? You can’t kill one bird with
one stone… kids try it all the time. It can't be done. Not unless you got a big stone and they’re little tiny baby birds… then you can <i>brhhchch! Cheep! Cheep! </i>Dead.”</p></blockquote><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRvVBvIF_M4/YZzCv0Op7zI/AAAAAAAAPr8/hlzEmbHwjG0WQOK7dsdzao41QVTHexb-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s600/Blank-Check-3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="600" height="217" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRvVBvIF_M4/YZzCv0Op7zI/AAAAAAAAPr8/hlzEmbHwjG0WQOK7dsdzao41QVTHexb-gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h217/Blank-Check-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kid's face while receiving that "dad" wisdom.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kids with dads will know. <i>"Hahaha! Hose up a cat's butt! Funny one dad! Hahahaha!!"</i></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z0wqwwwiQw8/YZzErWKUNmI/AAAAAAAAPsE/BiIdnfkJEPYgW2XL95xsNuXXCqy2l0ugwCLcBGAsYHQ/s805/MV5BOTY4ZGNhNGQtZjgyZi00NDc5LWExNDgtZjIwMjQwYzc3OTU1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="805" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z0wqwwwiQw8/YZzErWKUNmI/AAAAAAAAPsE/BiIdnfkJEPYgW2XL95xsNuXXCqy2l0ugwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h151/MV5BOTY4ZGNhNGQtZjgyZi00NDc5LWExNDgtZjIwMjQwYzc3OTU1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTAxODYyODI%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Anyway, Preston joins the party (full of adults who have been
paid by "Mr. Macintosh" and now only want to see this fellow) and suddenly
discovers he’s not even welcomed at his own party. After all, he’s not Mr.
Macintosh, he’s just “some kid” who works for the man. He goes looking for Shay,
but she’s actually off telling her FBI coworkers when to rush the party and
capture the elusive Mr. Macintosh. Everyone, including the party organizer lady
is looking for Mr. Macintosh, with bills… her’s being 100 grand just for the party alone… and guess what?
Computer says he’s out of money! The jig’s up! Better get to South America
kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all gone. He's back in his office and the million dollars is spent, and the bills are still pouring in. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GwTTvKV7aJo/YZzFw45DayI/AAAAAAAAPsM/_-FzG6vy9QoVj3HVHhAFMgw4B9AabV5ogCLcBGAsYHQ/s805/blank-check-brian-bosnall.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="805" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GwTTvKV7aJo/YZzFw45DayI/AAAAAAAAPsM/_-FzG6vy9QoVj3HVHhAFMgw4B9AabV5ogCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h151/blank-check-brian-bosnall.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Finally his dad shows up looking for Preston, but the kid’s
got his office chair turned and his dad mistakes him as Mr. Macintosh being aloof as
always. His dad asks Mr. Macintosh to send his boy home for his birthday party
with his family, says he’s been working his son too hard and that life isn’t
all about money and how he always “pushed Preston too much” and such. “I’m
afraid he’s missing out on his childhood” by working so hard....etc. Preston hears
every word and feels a grand sense of buyers remorse, and not to mention the weight of the
many, many years of bankruptcy and debtors prison that surely awaits all of them over this
little stunt. And t’is true… Preston wants to come home, but dad leaves too
fast. Heck, even Henry seems to have left the party. Who is at the party but
chickipoo looking for Mr. Macintosh as well, like everyone else… but because she’s such a “golddigger”
for wearing the necklace he bought her (typical WOMAN!), he shirks her off. The party planner lady shuts down
the party and Preston tells all the party guests: “There’s been a terrible
mistake…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>“Close down the bar!”</i> the
lady yells, and the party quickly empties out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uaZ3DqRODic/YZzJc_6S4KI/AAAAAAAAPs4/u20LQeRd2lkBc4JtpdZ3nSWqIamlGd-JgCPcBGAYYCw/s816/empire.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="816" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uaZ3DqRODic/YZzJc_6S4KI/AAAAAAAAPs4/u20LQeRd2lkBc4JtpdZ3nSWqIamlGd-JgCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h112/empire.png" width="200" /></a></div>Kid slumps back inside his castle all alone (<i>"What have I become... in my empire of dirt..."</i>) like Citizen Kane after he loses the election... like Tony Montana on the pile of coke… but
gets confronted by the evil trio there who have been closing in the whole time with
the help of that son-of-a-Butch. He tells them that there is no "Macintosh" and that it was him
all along, and that he spent a million dollars in six days. ("Not that hard to do" Tone Loc says. And he would know.) They decide to
steal the identity of "Macintosh" that the kid created and just get rid of the kid, but the kid takes
off. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gk8w0G0p0dU/YZzJyzfZciI/AAAAAAAAPtE/mw4Fe87QPg8w0ETNlpPTGTMl_2nhbxcsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s714/screwball.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="714" height="129" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gk8w0G0p0dU/YZzJyzfZciI/AAAAAAAAPtE/mw4Fe87QPg8w0ETNlpPTGTMl_2nhbxcsQCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h129/screwball.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screwball!</td></tr></tbody></table>And now the movie turns into some Home
Alone-style shenanigans in the big house for a half minute as he picks them off one by one with his "Richie Rich" gadgets and gizmos. Biderman gets the VR headset over-stimulation. But that's nothing. Tone Loc gets in the batting cage and Preston decides it's time for some "screwballs!"... comandeering the RC ball-shooter baseballs to shoot the "Wild Thing" rapper right in his own screw balls. <i><b>“OOOH! That musta HURT!”</b> </i>the kid joyfully exclaims. NUTSHOT!</div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">So two down... but the big boss fight is on its way. <i>“Did you think you were going to get away with it kid?
Spending someone else’s money?”</i></p>No… the kid somehow sumo's Quigley right into the lawn bowling ball thing, locks it, and then
pushes it down the track on the front of his go-kart race car, spinning it so fast it flies up and lands smack down in the swimming pool! And all this just in
time for Shay and her fellow FBI to show up and capture the baddies. Preston learns that Shay was FBI the whole time and the FBI learns that Quigley is "Macintosh" (or at least, that's what they're told). As a
result, Quigley and his cronies are under arrest for "money laundering, fraud, and grand theft" and Preston is off scot free. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QT6foNlh8eo/YXulykn3jfI/AAAAAAAAPaM/gboDcKkOan8lFYdzHSDYSVFfONJO3i3HACPcBGAYYCw/s1200/ndetffV7lMnaznWg.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="226" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QT6foNlh8eo/YXulykn3jfI/AAAAAAAAPaM/gboDcKkOan8lFYdzHSDYSVFfONJO3i3HACPcBGAYYCw/w400-h226/ndetffV7lMnaznWg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey! My badge is down there.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Dad
also shows up to claim Preston. But Preston is busy getting.... busy with super-low-cut
dress-wearing hot FBI agent Shay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
asks, <i>“So that date, was just for your job?”</i> Shay replies, <i>“Well, it started
out like that…BUT..."</i> (yeah folks). She does tell him to get a little older first, so they agree to date again in six years, but not before
this grown ass woman kisses this young boy… on the LIPS! <o:p></o:p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KSN3YBYQk1A/YZzLpCj_CvI/AAAAAAAAPtM/usGqlgGXbUEgTc8jQhQqTLtMQCxCuFNugCLcBGAsYHQ/s477/xtv9k.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="477" height="179" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KSN3YBYQk1A/YZzLpCj_CvI/AAAAAAAAPtM/usGqlgGXbUEgTc8jQhQqTLtMQCxCuFNugCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h179/xtv9k.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucky kid.</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Ok, you know what movie? I’m just gonna say what everyone in the
audience was thinking at this scene of a full grown hot chick kissing this illegally young boy… </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">...</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>"Niicccce." </b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">...</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mwHTKIfbbQ4/YZzMeDkyDdI/AAAAAAAAPtU/6Y2sI7JLgWMImhcCnYz5fbXJKJ_Xvc8TgCLcBGAsYHQ/s468/4adf0c6b693f3479b8126bfbdfd50ae4.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="249" data-original-width="468" height="106" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mwHTKIfbbQ4/YZzMeDkyDdI/AAAAAAAAPtU/6Y2sI7JLgWMImhcCnYz5fbXJKJ_Xvc8TgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h106/4adf0c6b693f3479b8126bfbdfd50ae4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Actually, the correct response is <b><i>"wHAAT??"</i></b> but South Park has proven that no one really cares as long as she's hot. Anyways, after that possibly illegal scene in a Disney movie (that nobody would ever condemn) she goes home and keeps the necklace he bought for her (of course!). After that, Henry shows back up. He says he went to go get ice
cream in a giant trash barrel (okay), but then is the real tear-jerking scene.
Henry goes, <i>“If you see Macintosh, tell him I’m really gonna miss working for
him…”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (he KNOWS the kid was "Macintosh" all along!) </span><i>“You too Henry…” </i>(the kid KNOWS he KNOWS! Screw Toxic Masculinity... I'm a dude and where's my tissue?!) Then Henry presumably goes home with the
barrel of ice cream… which for him I suppose is every night... <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Anyway, Boomer Dad shows up and Preston admits that <i>“Mr. Macintosh wasn’t who he
thought he was”</i> and that <i>“he shouldn’t have fooled everybody.”</i> He goes home
with dad and meets his family waiting with a surprise birthday cake... even his butthead big brothers for some reason. And over lit birthday candles, like a reverse Willy Wonka in his ear, his dad whispers <i>“be careful what you wish for.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But wouldn’t ya know it, he doesn't know what to wish for because he’s got "everything
he wants right there…" Awww...</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mB_P7t9RCKI/YZy8Ua99M9I/AAAAAAAAPrQ/t2J9JjOMPFcCUlRZAe5gQxQLZJhjDoRWACPcBGAYYCw/s373/Prestonshayembrace.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="250" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mB_P7t9RCKI/YZy8Ua99M9I/AAAAAAAAPrQ/t2J9JjOMPFcCUlRZAe5gQxQLZJhjDoRWACPcBGAYYCw/w134-h200/Prestonshayembrace.webp" width="134" /></a></div>But on the other
hand… <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He looks at the sexy picture of Shay from the bank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And blows out the candle. END. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">So what did we learn in the end? That boomers are idiots who don't get the millennial experience... that to gain the world is to lose your soul... that the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor (unless the poor get extremely, absurdly LUCKY...) ... and that furthermore, full grown hot chicks really will go after literally any guy who has money for as long as he has money... no matter how criminal or, in this case... how <b><i>underage</i></b> they are.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Some guys just have all the luck! </p></div></div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-26943979148371692682021-08-12T00:45:00.003-04:002021-09-05T10:23:51.324-04:00Console Wars: Mistakes Were Made (or were they?)<p></p>There's a weird part of me that thinks video game companies during the "Console Wars" of the 90s, especially Sega and Nintendo... were trying to market to dudes... and being very successful at doing it. I may be wrong, but... what do I know? Of course, chicks play video games too, and always did, but it's almost like these companies didn't know or something because... well... something about how these things were marketed... I can't put my finger on it... doesn't seem like they were trying to appeal to "feminine sensibilities."<div><br /></div><div>Yeah, here's why that was a bad idea:<br /><div><br /><div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1. Bigger is better confirmed.</span></h3><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MwgsUz7xSt4/Xn6RSsoMP0I/AAAAAAAAMiM/Ya5-uLH0oQ0nLSeFCPmGnMO959U2x1j-ACPcBGAYYCw/s745/dQAXeJxHRMUWOO7411hQD7mw94ix9Yos2eomvoaYSyo.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="550" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MwgsUz7xSt4/Xn6RSsoMP0I/AAAAAAAAMiM/Ya5-uLH0oQ0nLSeFCPmGnMO959U2x1j-ACPcBGAYYCw/w236-h320/dQAXeJxHRMUWOO7411hQD7mw94ix9Yos2eomvoaYSyo.webp" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Haha sex!</h3><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-joYY3Hz8B-Y/Xn6RTVF7FfI/AAAAAAAAMiM/1GZj2BTRskAHIZ7_tHMBQ5gRLvd8peTXACPcBGAYYCw/s512/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="512" height="270" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-joYY3Hz8B-Y/Xn6RTVF7FfI/AAAAAAAAMiM/1GZj2BTRskAHIZ7_tHMBQ5gRLvd8peTXACPcBGAYYCw/w400-h270/unnamed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Underwear is all you really need.</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SxuSFYuUKfk/Xn6RTPozz7I/AAAAAAAAMiI/xD1SJhUgWOkDV7QhIdG74bUqVNLGyHQ5ACPcBGAYYCw/s1084/original-28694-1447700942-4.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SxuSFYuUKfk/Xn6RTPozz7I/AAAAAAAAMiI/xD1SJhUgWOkDV7QhIdG74bUqVNLGyHQ5ACPcBGAYYCw/w259-h400/original-28694-1447700942-4.webp" width="259" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4. OK, a second pair of underwear is all you need... (cuz poop)</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2bz6Bf4CTk/Xn6RSfUKcBI/AAAAAAAAMiA/sUvUZvb8qAsAbuzUTdYC9M4_d_5Wv2rGACPcBGAYYCw/s1024/Electronic-Gaming-Monthly-Issue-040-November-1992-page-185-781x1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="781" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W2bz6Bf4CTk/Xn6RSfUKcBI/AAAAAAAAMiA/sUvUZvb8qAsAbuzUTdYC9M4_d_5Wv2rGACPcBGAYYCw/w244-h320/Electronic-Gaming-Monthly-Issue-040-November-1992-page-185-781x1024.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div><br /></div><h3 style="text-align: left;">5. Haha! OK, this one still works. </h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmI2NgA9SaQ/Xob1ZXr2kdI/AAAAAAAAMlo/fGkf-1eJGY4ajVAFwnFjbmEJGL7oCiJ7wCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/tumblr_74e3890088929952779f7739eb46aace_bdd410cf_2048.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1576" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmI2NgA9SaQ/Xob1ZXr2kdI/AAAAAAAAMlo/fGkf-1eJGY4ajVAFwnFjbmEJGL7oCiJ7wCPcBGAYYCw/s320/tumblr_74e3890088929952779f7739eb46aace_bdd410cf_2048.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. Not so much this one...</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDSTBPcJLcw/Xob1Y8ki-ZI/AAAAAAAAMlg/eRgrOLAeFP85XFDw4rIMg206pXjlx5RwACPcBGAYYCw/s728/HBEr4b8g.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="728" height="306" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDSTBPcJLcw/Xob1Y8ki-ZI/AAAAAAAAMlg/eRgrOLAeFP85XFDw4rIMg206pXjlx5RwACPcBGAYYCw/w400-h306/HBEr4b8g.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7. You can lose your masculinity. </h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-td2fkEmUlLs/Xob1YcJ_FGI/AAAAAAAAMlc/UzXIkbD3hIg8ot2IbKjvJJWr2kA0d92fwCPcBGAYYCw/s893/2015121112030110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="638" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-td2fkEmUlLs/Xob1YcJ_FGI/AAAAAAAAMlc/UzXIkbD3hIg8ot2IbKjvJJWr2kA0d92fwCPcBGAYYCw/w286-h400/2015121112030110.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">8. Uh... not sure how I feel about this one... give me a few minutes...</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yDVWsEXYQzY/Xob1YhQim0I/AAAAAAAAMlc/BwsOux6pGHQuQD5b6hq4ft6bDbb5BbvngCPcBGAYYCw/s943/2015121112025814.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="943" data-original-width="638" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yDVWsEXYQzY/Xob1YhQim0I/AAAAAAAAMlc/BwsOux6pGHQuQD5b6hq4ft6bDbb5BbvngCPcBGAYYCw/w271-h400/2015121112025814.png" width="271" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">9. "Groveling, spanking, decapitation, nut bustin', flying spit... rippin' a good long stun gun fart... suckin' heads up Rhino butts, BALLZ... and all the other stuff that makes life worth living." </h3><div><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I KNOW how I feel about this one!</h3><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cLmsNpJy80/Xob1YjG8euI/AAAAAAAAMlY/VqTriWHEl6Ul7Zrt7E8vqZYnh3SqXWEOwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/73d009badec10cf0d524fe6b6ce81f28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="2048" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cLmsNpJy80/Xob1YjG8euI/AAAAAAAAMlY/VqTriWHEl6Ul7Zrt7E8vqZYnh3SqXWEOwCPcBGAYYCw/w400-h263/73d009badec10cf0d524fe6b6ce81f28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">10. Haha. Playing with yer worm.</h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rJezvN-Kqi0/Xob1ZFcGSyI/AAAAAAAAMlk/n0GOo17lOfYJVCLJiG2u9-NPOj_5_AkbwCPcBGAYYCw/s685/XZ9iQRT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rJezvN-Kqi0/Xob1ZFcGSyI/AAAAAAAAMlk/n0GOo17lOfYJVCLJiG2u9-NPOj_5_AkbwCPcBGAYYCw/w293-h400/XZ9iQRT.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">11. And finally: </h3><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkwhhl0JWlY/Xob2a-kU_kI/AAAAAAAAMlw/4fkrXSoHrK4odO5OFsQj7y61a3McVYCDACPcBGAYYCw/s378/8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="316" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pkwhhl0JWlY/Xob2a-kU_kI/AAAAAAAAMlw/4fkrXSoHrK4odO5OFsQj7y61a3McVYCDACPcBGAYYCw/w335-h400/8.jpg" width="335" /></a></div><br /><p></p></div></div></div></div><div>Luckily, times have changed and this would totally not happen now... right?</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-38040428159267474762021-05-17T00:39:00.060-04:002021-09-05T09:06:13.875-04:00Treehouse Hostage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjfL2uyVurc/YJyw7jeutwI/AAAAAAAAOS4/envv-H5uCOoa1iyD-4eRVFEQvhytbln9QCPcBGAYYCw/s513/r4KwytadQuUzfWwIyCH6kfojjUH.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="342" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjfL2uyVurc/YJyw7jeutwI/AAAAAAAAOS4/envv-H5uCOoa1iyD-4eRVFEQvhytbln9QCPcBGAYYCw/s320/r4KwytadQuUzfWwIyCH6kfojjUH.jpg" /></a></div>I'd say it's time for another one of these. And nah, I'm not even gonna try to frame a "social critique" excuse to write about this movie. In a world gone crazy, sometimes it's good to just kick back and huff some paint... and by that I mean watch 1999's <i>Treehouse Hostage</i>, not only because that's clearly what everyone involved with it was doing, but also (probably) what everyone who watched it immediately went and did afterwards. (Come on, I can't be the only one...) Abandon hope all ye who enter here.<div><br /></div><div>
In any case, the core message of this live-action <i>South Park</i> may be more relevant than ever in its depiction of an age-old and undeniable truth: that the incomparable idiocy of male youth is truly without limit. It's a warning about why they shouldn't be given sole reign over a society when they grow up. Yikes. And try as you might to cry "sexism" on that, you will still have to explain this movie's existence, it's production, the bags of day-old Testosterone it's made for, and why this one too thought it was damn "hill-aaaaaarius" back in the day. Seriously, this thing is a checklist for every "boy comedy" trope possible... slapstick, wedgies, fart and pee jokes, <i>Porky's</i> stuff, peeping Tom stuff with "hot moms," dressing in drag, gross concoctions, "girls are evil"... it's all here, for the lowest of low common denominator markets. Two decades before the likes of Seth Rogen's much better movie <i>Good Boys</i>, the very existence of this thing proves the point: yes, "boys will be... idiots"... and will also have a lot of ill-advised fun while doing it. <i>"But hey man, it'll make a great story someday..." </i>And I'll be damned if I say it's not... well... <i>"funny"?</i></div><div><br /></div><div>
This every-boy's tale of the "Three F's of Boyhood" (fighting, flunking, and farting) begins where that lifestyle usually ends: with a prison break. A lone prison inmate named Carl is scaling a wall to make a break for it. It's hard to tell in the dark, but then it hits you, this guy is Earnest P. Worrell himself, Jim Varney... <i>(knowwhadimean?) </i>who actually turns in a more subdued and even sometimes funny performance in this movie (which sadly turned out to be one of his last). Surprisingly he doesn't rely on his Earnest character schtick too much but just goes classic Jim Varney, and is easily the funniest thing in the movie for real. His "captive observer" antics are almost meta with the audience also watching these inexplicably silly shenanigans unfold... and his straight-man reactions to it all often make this movie even <i>legitly</i> funny at times. His prison break isn't explained though as the movie keeps the action going, by... bringing us back to elementary school! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ehz1Nd8bji4/YKHusV9zeoI/AAAAAAAAOTs/eAM9bAhth6U8btRrZVegkxdX2aRMmyNFACPcBGAYYCw/s400/unnamed.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ehz1Nd8bji4/YKHusV9zeoI/AAAAAAAAOTs/eAM9bAhth6U8btRrZVegkxdX2aRMmyNFACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h150/unnamed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There we meet young Timmy Taylor (presumably no relation to the Tool Man) playing video games on his 90s chunky laptop during class with a built-in joystick. He's one dog-eaten, BBQ'ed "Current Event report" away from flunking out and ending up in the dreaded summer school. (Talk about stakes!) <i>"Sorry about BUMMER school. I'll be thinking of you when I'm water skiing at Camp Grenada!"</i> chimes "Buddy," a blonde mushroom-cut flannel jerk sitting next to him. To which Timmy eloquently retorts: <i>"Shut. Up. Bazooka butt!" </i>(Oh snap!) <i>"Don't call me that!" </i>Buddy replies. (Why kid? That is the most "<i>duuuude...</i>" superpower I ever heard!) Timmy then shows off his "late 90s lEeT mAtRiX haXXoR sKillZ" using his laptop and joystick to drive a camcorder taped to an RC car through the hallways of the school. And just to show you how profoundly "compromised" this particular goon squad is, he doesn't even do anything cool with it like... uh... No. He just uses it to torture his principal, Mr. Ott, (named just so they can say "Ott the snot!") with an elaborate prank requiring Joker-level insight and coincidence to drop paint on the man's head... and also hacking the bell to make the school day end sooner.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lYMtk7bs6FM/YKHurwtfqqI/AAAAAAAAOT8/Ow86e82rD0QoYAzYcUfs0Ll8Hg-1aA_LACPcBGAYYCw/s480/treehouse-hostage-821a52e8-3620-4d2d-9d21-087103964f4-resize-750.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lYMtk7bs6FM/YKHurwtfqqI/AAAAAAAAOT8/Ow86e82rD0QoYAzYcUfs0Ll8Hg-1aA_LACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h150/treehouse-hostage-821a52e8-3620-4d2d-9d21-087103964f4-resize-750.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But while Timmy is busy beginning his delinquent career, Jim Varney (Carl the prison breaker) is at the other end of his... on the lam, and with the "cops" on his trail. And by that I mean the dirtiest, shadiest, most Boss Hogg-type cops this side of the Appalachians. They corner him robbing what I think is literally the Haunted Mansion, an old busted-up house, but he gets away from these generic bad-guy movie cops by... uh... <i>outrunning the police car?</i> Anywho... during his getaway, he crosses paths with guess who! It's Timmy and his Baseball-obsessed dad, known so far for making sure he hears the game's final call on the radio before his own son is even allowed to speak to him. (All dads were like this... right?) Anyway, after Dad hears that <i>"the Commies lose again!"</i> (Soviet baseball in '99?), he starts grilling Timmy about the missing homework, to which Dad replies: <i>"Timmy, you got to stop blaming the dog..."</i> (Seriously kid, get a new alibi for your farts... cuz that's weeeeeak.) But then Dad continues to put forth sage fatherly advice: <i>“Excuses are like armpits, everybody’s got em, and they all stink.”</i> (Once again, this guy is EveryDad... although mine used a different body part.) So, moral of the story? Kid, you need you some Axe... badly. Even your DAD is dropping the hints. (And that never happens!)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsyLUrlZ0IQ/YKHusAFDvNI/AAAAAAAAOT4/asYPBrni0vEalSYoEF7cjueCc7ZA3UJWgCPcBGAYYCw/s512/unnamed%2B%25281%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="476" data-original-width="512" height="186" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsyLUrlZ0IQ/YKHusAFDvNI/AAAAAAAAOT4/asYPBrni0vEalSYoEF7cjueCc7ZA3UJWgCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h186/unnamed%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
So, Carl ends up running away to Timmy’s house, and after being attacked in the backyard by a particularly grumpy Wishbone (Timmy's dog... named "Potato" I think?), he inexplicably ends up bumbling into the pulley system of this kid's sub-Home Alone-level contraption that also knocks him unconscious (I guess?) and suspends him in the tree, right outside the kid's treehouse. Timmy and Dad get back, and apparently his "babe" of a hot mom doesn’t care for Dad's "armpit advice" either. Kid hears about the escaped convict on the news and the 50,000 dollar reward for any tips.... but let's forget that for now because the other dork kid from school, Stevie (Todd Bosley, who also played the dork in <i>Jack</i> and <i>Little Giants</i>, and even appeared in <i>Seinfeld</i>... a very "memorable" face...) shows up with a plan to go blast the "rich girls" next door with super soakers at their girly hide out. Claaaaassssiiiic! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H0b0Wh1A0jw/YKHxUDfyzQI/AAAAAAAAOUo/7gRQl2uN6TI-iMfpvzfdEiY3zfUQI_c0ACPcBGAYYCw/s604/MV5BYzc0NDE5NGItNjhhYi00YjRmLTg1M2ItYTJkOWRmN2RmYzNiXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjQwMDg0Ng%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="604" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H0b0Wh1A0jw/YKHxUDfyzQI/AAAAAAAAOUo/7gRQl2uN6TI-iMfpvzfdEiY3zfUQI_c0ACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h151/MV5BYzc0NDE5NGItNjhhYi00YjRmLTg1M2ItYTJkOWRmN2RmYzNiXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjQwMDg0Ng%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>And yeah, they go all “<i>Red Leader! Come in Red Leader, do you copy?</i>” wearing battle fatigues, helmets, binoculars, and carrying huge super soakers like something out of <i>Predator</i> (or at least how every 90s kid played <i>Predator</i> in the backyard). They sneak up on the girls' pristine little pink playhouse, but then just abandon the stealth and go open season on the front of it for no reason, only to get ambushed by the girls with a garden hose from behind a side table! Take that BOYS! Get rekt! "<i>Retreat men!</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>
Coming back from the water-soaked ambush defeated BY GIRLS! ... mushroom-cut Buddy shows up (that's his name) and establishes that he's into recording things on camcorders and makes fun of them with <i>"haha... you're wet..."</i> like he's Butthead Himself. The three of them head up to their treehouse "clubhouse" in Timmy's backyard, which of course looks like any kid's sweet-ass bedroom and even has computers in it all hooked up. Now dried off, Stevie reads the "minutes" of last week's meeting while HUFFING helium, and it's here we learn what important things actually go on in these "all-boy secret clubs." Let me huff some helium myself and quote: <i>"Last week, we talked about summer camp, Timmy bought Root Beer, Stevie... that's me... paid a 10 cent fine for leaving the clubhouse door wide open... and of course, we instituted rule 409... no ice cream in the clubhouse, due to Buddy's... delicate condition..."</i> (Ahh! So THAT's why he's called "Bazooka butt!"... In case you were <i>dying</i> to know.)</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjNZ81nYLQM/XUJknzJ3FjI/AAAAAAAALnc/Y149Xp2tS6wYX8eqEhbGRILrI-lG0C5DgCPcBGAYYCw/s401/Todd%2BBosley.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="302" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjNZ81nYLQM/XUJknzJ3FjI/AAAAAAAALnc/Y149Xp2tS6wYX8eqEhbGRILrI-lG0C5DgCPcBGAYYCw/w151-h200/Todd%2BBosley.png" width="151" /></a></div>Then they decide to "go cellular." Timmy whips out the most "Cellular Telephone" thing I've ever seen, a total brick, and he extends the antenna and the whole works... and at first you think they're gonna try to claim the 50-G's for having seen Jim Varney in the wild (Timmy even morphs his voice with a “Talkboy-like thing for it)... but no. They just crank call this fat cop at the police station and the guy swears his vengeance. Apparently they've done this before. Sadly, this is when they discover Mr. 50-G's (Carl), the prison escapee himself, hanging in their apparatus-thingy out the window, passed out, and quickly reel him inside. They determine he's alive but unconscious. Timmy suggests Buddy give him "mouth to mouth"... but Buddy's got a better idea. Naturally, the kid cops a squat over the dude's face and rips three overly-loud stock-sound farts right in his face! The boys reel in disgust. <i>"UghGhughgh! That STINKS! What do you got, a demon in there??" </i>Stevie shouts. (Ah, the old "out demon spirit!" joke stolen from <i>Jack</i>, which also had that same kid in a different fart-filled treehouse). Surprised as you may be, farting on the guy doesn’t work. (Oh well... they tried their best.) So they film him on their camcorder as evidence, and then decide to go get Dad, but they do manage to at least tie the guy down so he doesn’t escape (okay, that's smart). For good measure, they even stuff one of their socks in his mouth as a gag, making sure it’s an extra smelly one... by sniffing it. (Oooooooooooookay.) </div><div><br /></div><div>
But then the movie turns into <i>Porky's</i> for a second when the boys run inside and immediately burst in on Tim’s “babe” of a hot mom coming out of the shower in a towel... after inexplicably barging into... the bathroom?? (Guess they just assumed Dad was on the good ole' "Dad Throne"). <i>"Dude, your mom's a babe..."</i> Buddy goes. (Durrrrr!) They find Dad exercising and bring him back to the treehouse to see who they caught, but in the meantime, their captive fugitive has already woken up and somehow manages to stumble back into the pulley thing to get suspended out the window all over again, concealing him from view and knocking him out again(?), just in time for Dad to show up! Dad sees nothing there and gets annoyed. <i>"Show him the tape!"</i> YEAH! Finally a real flash of intelligence! .... Uh.... ... There's nothing on that damn tape but a Peeping Tom shot of another neighborhood mom working out in spandex through a window. <i>"Uh... I guess I didn't hit record." </i>Buddy says. (Durrrrr!)<div><br /></div><div><i>
“Dad come back!”</i> Timmy yells. Dad replies: <b><i>“EHHKCH!”</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QWfs8NeehTM/YKHv-S_9npI/AAAAAAAAOUA/Ah-EBhxzS00xbuchNNoXA0pu5-I_0hWKQCLcBGAsYHQ/s378/EpUP.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="378" height="153" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QWfs8NeehTM/YKHv-S_9npI/AAAAAAAAOUA/Ah-EBhxzS00xbuchNNoXA0pu5-I_0hWKQCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h153/EpUP.gif" width="200" /></a></div>So the boys call fat cop back to report their captured fugitive, but fat cop tells them, in no uncertain terms, precisely what they can sit on and how fast they should indeed spin on it. So, calling it quits on that idea, Timmy figures he can at least get something out of this by maybe blackmailing this fugitive guy into being his "Current Event report" (about him turning the guy in), and then collect the reward money afterwards of course! Aid and abed the guy why don'tcha! Carl wakes up (from concussion again?) to find himself in a <i>Misery</i> situation too twisted even for Stephen King. He’s tied up, Timmy is force-feeding him sandwiches and telling him to <i>"be a nice Current Events report for me, or I'll turn you in!"</i> The kid then threatens that his tiny "vicious" Wishbone out there named "Potato?" will rip him to pieces if he tries to escape. Kid tucks his tied-up prisoner in though at the end of the night, so it's "awwww??" He steals these counterfeiting money pressing plates off of him while he's asleep, then goes off to his own bed in his own house.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>
“Mom you don’t think I’m crazy do you?”</i> he asks his mom as she's tucking him in under a horrific poster in his room displaying a tabloid cover of "World’s Biggest Baby." Yeeek.... maybe you are kid! You're definitely not normal!</div><div><br /></div><div>Then we learn that those crooked cops who were chasing Carl were trying to get those very same counterfeiting money pressing “plates," and now the two of them, along with a shadowy "boss" figure, are going full-Darth Vader mode to find Carl and "those <i>plates!</i>" </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0e0MkFGbbA/YKHus63QUwI/AAAAAAAAOT8/ENUmqZAwBeYT67NrEIYAn4rR86T9wFtCQCPcBGAYYCw/s368/videoPreview.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="368" height="114" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p0e0MkFGbbA/YKHus63QUwI/AAAAAAAAOT8/ENUmqZAwBeYT67NrEIYAn4rR86T9wFtCQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h114/videoPreview.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Morning comes, and Carl’s being held in a stockade under slingshot. They have a stupid "court hearing" in the treehouse with stupid Perry Mason talk, spraying their captive with squirt guns and giving him Chair Wedgies in his stockade if he refuses to answer questions like<i> “what did you have for dinner on the night of the 4th??” </i>They get him on the “pizza defense” though, insisting that he was <i>"temporally dumb by the pizza affecting his brain!”</i> (Alright, this movie has officially gone off the rails...) </div><div><br /></div><div>Despite all this stupidity, they learn about the counterfeiting plot the guy was just trying to stall, and how he's being used as the scapegoat by his old "crooked cop" bosses. So... while Buddy tickle tortures ole' Earnest in a... <i>very unpleasant scene </i>... the other two goofballs for some reason go to the Haunted Mansion where they had just learned Carl had stolen the money pressing plates from (and almost get busted by the thugs in the process). Meanwhile Buddy’s gone full <i>Misery </i>on this poor felon, trying to get Carl to piss himself by pouring water into a jug repeatedly and regaling the mofo with <i>“Tales from the Urinal... By I. P. Standing!"</i> </div><div><br /></div><div>This is when Carl busts out of his stockade and gives Buddy a good ole' Atomic Wedgie for revenge... the waist band ALL the way over the head!! Then he picks the kid up and hangs him on the wall by his pants (Owwwee! An Atomic Wedgie with a Dangling Wedgie mixed in... nice technique... this guy could be a contender in the Wedgie Olympics).</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dfEb2FrIBq0" title="YouTube video player" width="530"></iframe> </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll give that wedgie a 9.5... nice form, fluid motion, and sticks the landing!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, this supreme Atomic Dangling Wedgie torture forces Buddy to reveal that the "plates" Carl is looking for are in Timmy's room. Carl distracts the dog with hot dogs and makes it into the house… to take a leak (poor guy)... destroys Timmy’s room looking for the plates... and then.... I don't know... chases off this military-like lawn care guy by... dressing in drag?? (Honestly, it's a scene too dumb for words...)</div><div><br /></div><div>
The two goon squad dipshits come back to the treehouse to discover Buddy strung up by his underwear and learn that Carl escaped and is trapped up in Timmy's Bedroom (now that his parents are home). So the boys put their heads together and stage an oil leak on the car to get Dad out, and then Timmy gets to cop a feel on his hot mom by hugging her so that Carl can escape out the back behind her (dressed in drag of course). It's "hide-the-thing-from-the-parents" shenanigans!! For some reason he ends up back up in the treehouse and back in the stockade.</div><div><br /></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DgS-MkZ10z4/YKHurxhFcwI/AAAAAAAAOT0/1dd_ka_mmW8uS-IA4ohdIfu6GmDan3XuQCPcBGAYYCw/s480/treehouse-hostage-7be1d8c8-c488-47e8-be45-90c6c88155f-resize-750.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DgS-MkZ10z4/YKHurxhFcwI/AAAAAAAAOT0/1dd_ka_mmW8uS-IA4ohdIfu6GmDan3XuQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h150/treehouse-hostage-7be1d8c8-c488-47e8-be45-90c6c88155f-resize-750.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But don’t think about that, because the girls are back!! And they're ready to besiege the boys' treehouse with water balloons!! So the boys devise a plot to create this spit/booger/condiment/poop sludge concoction (also ripping off <i>Jack</i>), set to a dumb rock montage from out of nowhere that sounds like the <i>Might Be Giants</i> or something... and then float the stuff in a basket out over the girls with helium balloons. They shoot it with a sling shot, which "makes it rain" its nasty contents down upon them. Nailed! Take that GIRLS! Then they victory dance in the treehouse and eat ice cream, forgetting rule 409… which means Buddy's butt immediately explodes into a puff of farts. Everyone rolls back aghast at the... gas... waves of pure fart filling out the treehouse... (once again...) and (once again) we get an <i>"Oh that's NASTY!"</i> and an<i>"Ughghg! Gonna die!"</i> as they're all gagging... and of course it's hilarious once again. Luckily they have gas masks on hand this time, so... YAY! "Ice-cream-and-fart" ON!</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, so NOW this movie is so far off the rails it's an airplane... And yet we plow on... After the sludge-making montage and the (second) fart joke, now's a great time to immediately shift tone to one of those slow "emotional" scenes with the sad music as Carl tells a sad story of why he quit being a "hero fireman" when it got too hard for him to handle, eventually finding his way into counterfeiting with these crooked cops, a hustle so sweet, let me tell ya boys... <i>"the women are so big..."</i> He says he was eventually busted by his crooked cop friends (big brain guy here, right?), so he broke out of jail to steal back the counterfeiting plates and try to end their whole illegal operation for good, which is why they're out for him. So yeah, ole' Carl's actually a good guy at heart and he was framed! Where have we seen this before, <i>Bushwhacked?</i> So now that they've all bonded over dumping snot upon girls and farting, they all vow to help Carl defeat these “bad guys" and help clear his name... but more awesomely... they suit up in their spy gear cut with a fun 90s "cool" montage!</div><div><br /></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kMdwJMrPDSc/YKHxIgZcimI/AAAAAAAAOUg/ThhlX7WZEjEhWua3QtnCNsDEmz7SvHgcwCPcBGAYYCw/s1280/treehouse-hostage-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kMdwJMrPDSc/YKHxIgZcimI/AAAAAAAAOUg/ThhlX7WZEjEhWua3QtnCNsDEmz7SvHgcwCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h113/treehouse-hostage-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>They get to the Haunted Mansion place and Buddy records Carl splainin’ his whole story on his camcorder, but then guess who shows up? WHAT A TWIST! It's their principal, Mr. Ott! It turns out HE'S the one masterminding the whole counterfeiting operation! He explains his entire evil plan not knowing the camcorder to recording in the background, and an altercation ensues that the kids manage to escape from but have to leave the camera behind while Carl gets captured by the bad guys. Principal Ott then calls Timmy on his Cellular Telephone and says he’s got <i>"more than homework assignments to worry about now!"</i> (heyyy-ooh!) and orders the kid to meet him at a golf course to trade "the plates" for for "their friend" Carl… but they decide to do one better. They're gonna screw with the plates to make them unable to print money with. But for some reason they need some help doing it... from an unlikely source.... Hmmm.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Gc7Op63qk0/YKHxIsqBP4I/AAAAAAAAOUc/TBv_an5euAcuc_agWlIoO4JI7LjSpvLNACPcBGAYYCw/s604/MV5BNWE4NmUwN2UtOGZiMC00ZDgyLWI2YmYtZGVlNTM4N2IwMmJmXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjQwMDg0Ng%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="604" height="151" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Gc7Op63qk0/YKHxIsqBP4I/AAAAAAAAOUc/TBv_an5euAcuc_agWlIoO4JI7LjSpvLNACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h151/MV5BNWE4NmUwN2UtOGZiMC00ZDgyLWI2YmYtZGVlNTM4N2IwMmJmXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjQwMDg0Ng%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Timmy has a hilarious nightmare that night about being old in jail and, finding his teeth have fallen out in the slop bucket, unleashes a truly blood-curdling scream under his Santa beard (it's <i>legit</i> hilarious out of context, trust me). That morning, he decides they need to go "grovel with the girls" if they're going to get this plan into action to rescue Carl and <i>stop all the counterfeitin'!</i>... because the girls have "software" or something. So the girls, being evil little bitches (as ALL girls are, amirite?), draw up a thousand-page contact as a set of conditions to helping the boys out, including a clause about giving up their treehouse on Friday nights so the girls can use it (why they'd want that fartitorium, I don't know). There is one other stipulation whispered in Timmy's ear, which causes him to exclaim, <i>"What? In front of the whole school??"</i> But because they're dumb boys being outsmarted by the girls and their evil minds, they sign it and the girls rubber stamp it. So the girls help them with some computer skills to cause the plates to print obviously non-passable money. How, I'm not quite sure, but whatever. Before the plan can be put into action, it turns out Timmy’s got to go to his aunt’s "5th or 6th wedding"...? but luckily it's right next door to the golf course where they’re making the exchange! (<i>"Lucky coincidence!"</i> -Wilford the Dog) He gets there, but escapes the ceremony using a bathroom break excuse and switches with Buddy at the wedding. Not even his own dad notices he's gone.</div><div><br /></div><div>
Timmy goes to give back the plates to Team Evil, who have shown up at the golf course, and they make their trade and release Carl to them, only to find out that the plates were tampered with and now print nothing but the face of principal Ott! Team Evil gives chase through the mini golf course, and Stevie takes shots at them with his golf swings! And now these kids have embraced their <i>Three Stooges </i>idiocy in full. <i>Woop-woop-woop!</i> Of course Carl sacrifices himself by getting the bad guys to run after him so the kids can escape... and they do run... right into the wedding cake! <i>Woompf! </i>Annnnnd.... <u>Down</u> <u>Goes</u> <u>the</u> <u>Bride!</u> <i>Woop-woop-woop! </i>The cops show up to arrest the counterfeiters only to find out these guys are crooked cops, and Carl gets busted with them. Principal Ott speeds off. Fat cop releases Carl from the jail later that night because of the camcorder footage of him the police found at the Haunted Mansion, and offers him a plea bargain to testify against his former dirty-cop bosses.</div><div><br /></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6Kr0NGm_p0/YKHxIq4HAfI/AAAAAAAAOUQ/AJic8ieEvpwTqOiH2xtgzlnn_vBYrVEpwCPcBGAYYCw/s1448/x1080.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1448" height="149" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B6Kr0NGm_p0/YKHxIq4HAfI/AAAAAAAAOUQ/AJic8ieEvpwTqOiH2xtgzlnn_vBYrVEpwCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h149/x1080.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The next day at school, it's the day of the big report presentations. Stevie is in the middle of giving his presentation of having tried to <i>"clone sheep in the bathtub"</i> ... to which he adds,<i> "And I don’t recommend it because cloning sheep can be kind of stinky... and messy" </i>(pointing to some very disturbing-looking fluid in a test tube.) We don't see Buddy's "current event" presentation but knowing the depth of his characterization, he probably just farts or something. So okay, now it’s Timmy’s turn to do his, and uh… well, he explains what happened and the teacher basically gives the entire plot of the movie an F (seems about right). This ensures summer school awaits our poor, idiotic protagonist… but then! The cops bring Carl to his school so Carl can be his “Current Event” report! YAY!!! Principal Ott tries to escape when he sees this but gets captured and put in handcuffs just as the whole school gathers outside to celebrate his incarceration. The cops give Timmy the reward money for bringing in Carl (50 G's!!!), even though Carl is technically a free man now… and the girl finally gets her part of the deal… coming up and kissing Timmy on the cheek in front of the whole school... (The horror!!!). Apparently she wanted that? Now I have second thoughts about her intelligence! All is well and good, but alas, it's revealed that night that "Potato" takes the 50,000 dollar check and buries it in the backyard... Oh well. The End.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0Y_eADxd4k/YKHur6ekUrI/AAAAAAAAOT4/ipYPBbqn490y-HuJCtphHQSDeYFLX-p5wCPcBGAYYCw/s330/Treehouse-Hostage-0.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="330" height="143" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0Y_eADxd4k/YKHur6ekUrI/AAAAAAAAOT4/ipYPBbqn490y-HuJCtphHQSDeYFLX-p5wCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h143/Treehouse-Hostage-0.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So what can we take away from all this? Did this movie prove that what passes as moth-brained idiocy can actually in the end really be taken as innocently heartfelt and ... (pun-intended) ..."earnest?" Maybe that empathy for people as individuals (and not mere collections of stereotypes) can bridge any divide between people? Maybe that all humans need are second chances? That perhaps... the outward appearances, behaviors, and even mistakes that people make in the immaturity of their lives aren't what we should be judging their worth on as people? That we shouldn't be so quick to just write people off just because they do dumb stuff? That people can grow and mature? That human beings... of all stripes... can still have a heart of gold down below even the most crude, mean, silly, or goofball antics? That people are all complex and can always surprise us? Perhaps...</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>
But then again, if this was made just to make what could actually be the ultimate "boy movie"...and it actually worked, then... never mind.</div></div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-52178908570684491692020-09-25T07:39:00.028-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.097-05:00The Mighty Ducks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6QV5APjbMQs/X22oGTExRII/AAAAAAAANTQ/lCV3s6xhx_gsimv6B6AXvj1O4JyqgLKGgCPcBGAYYCw/s1491/open-uri20150422-12561-gozy9j_1c8a9e5f.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1491" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6QV5APjbMQs/X22oGTExRII/AAAAAAAANTQ/lCV3s6xhx_gsimv6B6AXvj1O4JyqgLKGgCPcBGAYYCw/w214-h320/open-uri20150422-12561-gozy9j_1c8a9e5f.jpeg" width="214" /></a></div>I remember one time lining up in elementary school to wait for the busses and the topic of what we were gonna do after school came up among us little dudes. The consensus was that a few of them were getting together over so-and-so's house to watch The Mighty Ducks, and yes, I was actually invited. Twas a different time. So different in fact, that now the kid who played the Young Gordan in the movie (Brock Pierce) is not only a Bitcoin billionaire, but also <a href="https://people.com/politics/brock-pierce-presidential-campaign-after-child-acting/">running for president this year</a>. What's his political experience you ask? Well, he did star in <i>First Kid</i>, with Sinbad (and I'm telling you, if he <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_t7ubr0jBII">made Sinbad his running mate</a>... I'd vote). Not to mention other cast members who went on to futures maybe not as wealthy <a href="https://www.hollywood.com/movies/mighty-ducks-then-and-now-60240373/#/ms-22367/8">but still noteworthy</a>, and with talk of a <a href="https://www.oprahmag.com/entertainment/a30929224/the-mighty-ducks-disney-plus-reboot-release-date-news/">Mighty Ducks</a> show in the works... all of this reminded me. Oh yeah. Mighty Ducks was a thing.<br /><br />Let's talk about a movie that you never hear talked about despite the fact that it was actually quite big when I was a kid, because what the hell else can we do this year? The Mighty Ducks... or as us 90s kids referred to it, "Mighty Dicks" or "Mighty Fucks" or "Mighty Sucks"... (It's not that "hard" of a joke... I mean, they do call it "peewee" hockey, so what do they expect?). Unclever 90s kid humor aside, you really can’t get a more by-the-numbers sports movie than this. They literally spoofed it in South Park a number of times, especially with the <i>"...but he's about to fund out...!"</i> trailer voice. Famously enjoyed by internet meme Tourette's Guy between taking a leak, it's basically <i>Bad News Bears</i> with far more hockey and far less raunch. So nothing huge. If anything, what is amazing is just how many sports movie clichés this thing squeezes in!<div><div><br /></div><div>Now I had my own experience with hockey in my day. Yep. You see, as I'm sure I've told the story before... one time in gym class, eh... about the 4-5th grade... we were playing floor hockey and I happened to be the goalie, because they certainly didn't want scrawny me out there on the floor! All was going good, I was doing pretty good. Then just as the game was counting down, the last seconds on the clock... they slammed a puck at me so fast, I just put my thighs together like a bolt cutter. Oh I blocked the goal alright... with my CROTCH! No cup. Everyone froze. The other kids said they saw the puck freeze in that spot and then drop to the floor. They burst into laughter. And amazingly, I... didn't get hurt... To this day I don't know why it didn't destroy me, but I became a legend that day. The other guys were like "wow dude. That hung there for like a half second and dropped!" It's true too. I had the groin of steel. (Unfortunately for me, and my groin, it was a one time thing...) Don't try that at home kids... (unless your brother deserves it.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So I learned a thing or two about hockey in my day, and the importance of wearing cups, but this movie teaches an even more obvious lesson in the importance of picking the right team, a team that supports you over a team that tears you down. And since everyone these days loves to divide up into teams and go to war, well hey, it's probably time we take a lesson from a sports movie... a sports movie that opens with music right out of a softcore porno, with smooth jazz interludes throughout. Despite being a narrative beat of every feel good sports movie in existence, this movie's also got some smooth-ass cool jivin' B E A T S. And Danny Tamberelli. Hell yeah, they got Young Pete. </div><div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MIv1bYwvEVA/X22oDzM9vyI/AAAAAAAANTQ/-3EYrQXDDbQdUrbxCDZPd4eloX6wftY_wCPcBGAYYCw/s1500/1477496680-mighty-ducks-1992-cast.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MIv1bYwvEVA/X22oDzM9vyI/AAAAAAAANTQ/-3EYrQXDDbQdUrbxCDZPd4eloX6wftY_wCPcBGAYYCw/w400-h200/1477496680-mighty-ducks-1992-cast.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kKNP-oG3jDc/X22oGF6PALI/AAAAAAAANTI/yP94ILi4n6wkkYHPU1x56q-4PhJYvODWACPcBGAYYCw/s1500/image.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1500" height="138" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kKNP-oG3jDc/X22oGF6PALI/AAAAAAAANTI/yP94ILi4n6wkkYHPU1x56q-4PhJYvODWACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h138/image.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brock Pierce 2020</td></tr></tbody></table>We open on our would-be president, young Gordon Bombay (<a href="https://www.brock.vote/">Brock Pierce 2020</a>), missing the final penalty shot of his local playoffs sometime back in the 70s or 80s, costing the game, the season, and becoming the forever disappointment of the town and his evil coach who only cares about winning. And all because he failed that one time, he grows up to become a pretty good lawyer. It's Everylawyer's story really. As a boy, if you failed at sports, you probably beome a lawyer... or an accountant. Your life was over. Trust me. So then we join older Gordon Bombay (Emilio Estevez). He's a hotshot lawyer who wins at everything except life... kind of like a reverse Tom Cruise from <i>A Few Good Men</i>. He gets caught drunk driving one night and shows up in court... the judge (who knows him from being a lawyer) is like "I assume you're representing yourself." (8-year-old me's mind *blown*. Wow, just like doctors must be their own doctors... lawyers must be their own lawyers!)</div></div><div><br /></div>For reasons no kid will understand though, he gets "released on his
own recognizance" (I still don’t know what it means). But being a lawyer, he's like, “they have no case!” (against him driving under the influence with an open container). But instead of fighting it, he takes a plea bargain(?)
I guess(??) and is sentenced to community service and revocation of his drivers license. Suddenly he's forced to coach youth hockey because somehow community service means coaching jobs, and apparently they’ll give
coaching jobs to just any guy with a DUI in the 90s… (oh how times haven't changed). His boss Mr. "Ducksworth" (Josef Somer, who played the scientist in <i>D.A.R.Y.L.</i>) doesn't fire him, and he gets a driver provided by the court. Man this guy gets off easy! But then… I guess the team he’ll be coaching is the "real
punishment," amiright? </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Igym0s9NOuQ/X22txqdFjYI/AAAAAAAANTc/opIW11MGaCI7xOZbZQOkhX28YpjJeUVlwCPcBGAYYCw/s928/tmducks_mdc-2690a-1_l-h_2017-928x523.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="928" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Igym0s9NOuQ/X22txqdFjYI/AAAAAAAANTc/opIW11MGaCI7xOZbZQOkhX28YpjJeUVlwCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h113/tmducks_mdc-2690a-1_l-h_2017-928x523.jpg" width="200" /></a>They're called “District 5.” They’re your typical snot-nosed little
shit 90s goon squad, backwards-hat brigade, obsessed with Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Edition, and “your mom” jokes. There's of course Fat Kid ("Goldburg"), who is afraid of getting hit with pucks (so of course he's the goalie)... Dork Kid (Les Averman), who spouts what are supposed to be hil-laaarious one-liners but are usually just garbled cringey nonsense... Perv Kid (Peter), who is the "Mouth" of the group... Girl Kid ("Connie," I think?), who is a girl... Shy Kid who they call "Spaz" ("Charlie") (played by Jake Gyllenhaal), who is too pure for this world... Misunderstood Punk Kid ("Fulton"), who is exactly what it says on the label... Other Fat Kid ("Dave "Karpster" Karp"), who falls down a lot... Nice Kid ("Terry") (played by Jussie Smollett), brother to Streetwise Kid ("Jesse"), who says "cake-eater" a lot... and Ginger Kid ("Danny Tamberelli"... no wait, ah screw it, it's him), who has a sister who also plays for the team and is a figure skater (uh... not guessing on her name). We meet some of them in the act of doing the good old “dog poop in a
abandoned purse” prank on the sidewalk. And we see every part of the plan from
them feeding the dog, to following it around waiting for it to give them a good one, to scooping it, to setting the trap with the bait (a dollar bill sticking out)… to the mark finding it and then chasing them down the street all sped up ala
something out of <i>A Christmas Story</i>. One nutshot later and Victory is achieved. Profit!!</div><div><br /></div><div>So basically they're little shits. It's set up like they're bored and directionless, but then we learn that these kids also already play hockey together on a team, but are so lousy they're still just called "District 5" (which is not a 90s boy band but the hockey district they all live in). It seems they just lost their old coach to a heart attack from shouting at them too much. (Not a joke, it's in the movie.) Gordon Bombay meets the kids by having his driver drive his limo(?) out onto the
ice they're playing on, just to be badass, and he shows them just how much he cares about his forced community service: “I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience… and maybe one day one of you will even write a book about it in jail!" (And thus, the movie.)</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0JDFh85CHCg" width="500"></iframe></div></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div>“Hey, just so you know, you
really suck.” (Ouch! 90s kid smack down). But no, it is the boys who
suck. But then, saywahhhht? There’s a girl?? But then Coach Gordon: “if you need anything,
fax me.” He gets back in his limo. And there you go. So of course they want a ride in the limo, and all go jump on the
roof and climb in, eat donuts off the dash, mess around with the phone, and rip a really ripe SBD in the backseat…
immediately... and it's all fun and games until psycho-mom ruins it by <strike>overacting</strike>... I meant overreacting to the car being on the ice. Party's over. Parents mad. But the really sad thing about it was... now we'll never know who's fart it was.</div><div><br /></div><div>So okay, that's the Mighties for ya. But what about their inevitable rival team? Well, of course they're a little Cobra Kai military unit. “The Hawks." Evil incarnate, wearing all black, your typical
jerks who drop “wuss breath!” and “girls!” (while talking to boys) every other word and of course sport some pretty rockin’ roller blades when they’re
not on the ice. And you guessed it, they're the very same team that Coach Gordon once played for as a kid, and you guessed it, they're still coached by none other than Evil Coach himself, the same guy who ruined Gordon's love of hockey! Oh and guess what, Evil Coach "has never
forgiven him" for making the peewee team have second place for the only time in
its history that year. Woo doggy! That's some baggage to be carrying around for decades! So now it's not just about community service... now it's personal for Coach Gordon. </div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BA-0hmZEe58/X22oFIHwcuI/AAAAAAAANTE/rruiDE3R9cUH9UKQ6ldEVs_FOtFYEAH2gCPcBGAYYCw/s1200/MV5BOWQ4OGQxMjctMjdhMS00NzlhLThjNjMtMDllYmUzMDZlNDcyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNTIzOTk5ODM%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="1200" height="122" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BA-0hmZEe58/X22oFIHwcuI/AAAAAAAANTE/rruiDE3R9cUH9UKQ6ldEVs_FOtFYEAH2gCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h122/MV5BOWQ4OGQxMjctMjdhMS00NzlhLThjNjMtMDllYmUzMDZlNDcyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNTIzOTk5ODM%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But to say they get their asses handed to them in their first tryout game against the Hawks... is to assume they're anything but a bunch of asses. They suck!! Sticks flying... body checks... body slams... face plants into walls, into floors, into each other... exasperated refrains of “They’re killing us out there!” and “You guys stink!” (Well, they’re sweaty hockey players.) Not to mention some really cringy humor<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by yours truly, dorkatron dorkus maximus "Averman" (<i>“huummm goaliegoaliegoalie... saa-wing-goalie!”</i>). So, seeing as the team he's coaching is really that bad and is playing up against a team headed by a Coach Evil, Gordon starts teaching them the old lawyer-speak whiplash tactic... to fall down on purpose to cheat. “What do we do?" "Take the fall! Act hurt! Get indignant!” "Good. You guys are ready." But Shy Kid Charlie’s not having it, and neither are
the parents. Now it’s not just personal, but parents’ money for hockey
practices is on the line. And oh yeah, German old guy says it’s “not all
about winning, it’s about fun.” “Teach them to fly.”</div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aX3hba7aH2I/X22oEsZJkuI/AAAAAAAANTE/ruyzQVuM6_4LuNQ3lVTdsCIwUihZt2l8gCPcBGAYYCw/s559/7f7323ae4a3a5964632d407974ac5f4b7e745a0ead0ea00815ea35cd8ecdfa0f.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="559" height="147" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aX3hba7aH2I/X22oEsZJkuI/AAAAAAAANTE/ruyzQVuM6_4LuNQ3lVTdsCIwUihZt2l8gCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h147/7f7323ae4a3a5964632d407974ac5f4b7e745a0ead0ea00815ea35cd8ecdfa0f.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Now Charlie doesn’t want to be on the team if he's just being taught to cheat because he's too pure for this world (despite the dog poop pranks), but apologies are offered when Coach Gordon shows up at Charlie's house. At first the kid eye rolls, probably ready to just crop dust the room and leave... until, that is, he realizes that maybe coach can be New Dad to him and New D to his single mom... setting up an obvious
romance plot with Charlie’s mom... and... setting up Coach Gordon for a lifetime of factual and guilt-free "your mom" jokes at Charlie's expense. (Gee, Charlie did you think this through?) In the end, Charlie decides he wants to be on the team and will go to any lengths to get his mom and his coach together. Sweet or weird, you be the judge.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TN2YSUKDXtQ/X22oD_5v9NI/AAAAAAAANTE/_1IZtoetGTcu1SpDqc7knvJSrs69kzXnwCPcBGAYYCw/s400/39215f185f99a6da65bd5c2c5ec5842a.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="400" height="125" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TN2YSUKDXtQ/X22oD_5v9NI/AAAAAAAANTE/_1IZtoetGTcu1SpDqc7knvJSrs69kzXnwCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h125/39215f185f99a6da65bd5c2c5ec5842a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So while Coach Gordan is getting tight with Charlie's whole world, he also gets back tight with the team by utilizing his legal firm
to give money to the hockey team to buy them new gear (SWEET!) and enlisting
the local figure skating kids to come play hockey with them. It's here they get their "Ducks" name from their sponsor (Gordon's boss, Mr. "Ducksworth"), and it’s
also where the kids learn from an old newspaper clipping in the sports store that their coach was a former “Hawk!” Oooh now it’s
getting interesting! At practice, Dorkus Dorkatron Averman says <i>“wax on wax off” </i>in a racist
accent and gets a stick to the stomach, and Scaredy-Goalie Goldburg gets over his
fear of pucks by being subjected to a firing squad of pucks while tied down in a scene that has
a least 15 things wrong with it… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it’s funny because it’s child abuse? Actually, it’s probably 10 times worse than
what Coach Gordon experienced!<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BdPYLeFOtpQ/X226fqPXKsI/AAAAAAAANTk/lTHhsDorls0VQSTcN1x_Xbr3go1SjhCrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/3jgAxt.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="164" data-original-width="320" height="103" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BdPYLeFOtpQ/X226fqPXKsI/AAAAAAAANTk/lTHhsDorls0VQSTcN1x_Xbr3go1SjhCrwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h103/3jgAxt.gif" width="200" /></a></div>But now there’s also “Misunderstood Punk Kid” (Fulton) who keeps following them around but doesn't join the team. He's out breaking windows with his puck shots. What good will ever
come of him? Wait a minute…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he shoots
pucks like bullets… and we have a hockey team… 1+1= 2! But he can’t skate. Well… shenanigans
ensue when they start teaching him how to skate by having the whole team go joyriding through the
mall on roller blades in a montage cut from every single 90’s kid’s fever dream! Splash! Old lady in the mall fountain! <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Now they get their new uniforms. <i>“Ducks? What braindead jerk came up with that name?”</i> To which Gordon inexplicably replies: <i>"I’ll
have you know that the duck is the most noble, agile, and intelligent animal of
the animal kingdom.” “But they don’t even
have teeth!” “Niether do hockey players.”
“Ducks never say die”</i> …etc. (Really, Gordon says that). In reality, it's "Ducks" because Disney’s making this movie and Disney can only draw mice and ducks for cartoons, so they decide on the name “Mighty Ducks” and this wins them
over. (A similar thing happened when we got the “bat” badge in my cub scout den.) This gives them a new glut of confidence because sure, District 5 sucked, “but the DUCKS are UNDEFEATED!” (Technically true...)</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwwVG0dmhbI/X22oEr1GrOI/AAAAAAAANTA/ljgPlkxsjj8syo8FPPZvWbxA1WXFgPTQACPcBGAYYCw/s309/Dz8QGgLWoAA0MRS.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="309" height="132" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwwVG0dmhbI/X22oEr1GrOI/AAAAAAAANTA/ljgPlkxsjj8syo8FPPZvWbxA1WXFgPTQACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h132/Dz8QGgLWoAA0MRS.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>And so, getting cool equipment and being called “Mighty Ducks” also suddenly makes them much better at hockey, scoring
their first goal even, until Other Fat Kid ("David "Karpster" Karp") “takes one for the team” in either his head or his family jewels, it's hard to tell (complete with
bird tweeting sounds)… to which Dorkatron Averman does his schtick <i>“Eh Karpster! You-just-hadta-stopda-puck! Eh Mr. Karpelaney!...” </i>(showing just why it should've been him). But Fulton (“Misunderstood Punk”) turns out to be the ace in the hole, the secret weapon, the real silent but deadly amongst them, for he gets out there and ties the
game! Wow! We TIED! </div><div><br /></div><div>We also learn that Coach Gordon would not have been a Hawk if he was
playing today, since he lived in what is now "Duck territory." But as a result of his legal precision as a lawyer, he also ends up snagging one of the "evil" Hawks kids (a kid named Adam Banks) because technically he too lives within the district
boundaries for the Ducks, not the Hawks. The parents and the Evil Coach protest, as do the
Ducks themselves, since "evil kids" should stay on "evil hockey teams," and the other kids of the Ducks even overhear Coach Gordon calling his team “losers” out of context in front of the Hawks parents, and NOW it means something to them. They feel like it's because they're not good enough, so that's why Coach Gordon is putting a Hawk on their team. Ducks forfeit a game as a result, and everyone on the team's mad at each other. </div><div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrS6N9E25yU/X22oGetCwsI/AAAAAAAANTM/8vU0YdRYPoAC__GElbK7YMy6w0s_tIptACPcBGAYYCw/s512/unnamed.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="512" height="129" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrS6N9E25yU/X22oGetCwsI/AAAAAAAANTM/8vU0YdRYPoAC__GElbK7YMy6w0s_tIptACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h129/unnamed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So now they’re in need of a pep-talk, and Charlie’s playing
scab. He’s meeting Coach Gordon in a neutral location (a diner where his mom
works), and crossing the picket line. Coach is a “Hawk” after all, it’s in his
blood. Once a Hawk, always a Hawk! But Charlie thinks otherwise because coach is also New Dad. So Charlie of course says the line most 10-year-old boys say about their own mothers serving them coffee: “You
know, she has many fine qualities that most men find attractive.” Gordon replies, “I know that Charlie,
it has not escaped me.” But coach has more on his mind than a forced romantic subplot. He wants to quit being
coach because the Ducks don’t respect him, so Charlie runs out in tears because New Dad is walking out of his life... just like Old Dad. Aw.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cut to science class. Teacher: “Now if the red balls are oxygen, what are
the blue balls?” (“hehehe” -Beavis and Butthead in the back of the room.) “Hydrogen!” says Danny Tamberelli. Teacher: “Right, now put them
together and you have a molecule that makes up 96% of your body.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Danny Tamberelli: </span>“Pizza?” (Fact.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Teacher is called away and the team begins having a fist fight due to all the drama with their coach, and the fact that they're all in the same science class together for some reason. Different factions are forming for and against Coach Gordon... but one thing they all can agree on is that they are "Ducks! Ducks! Ducks!...!" all the way to detention, where they are all forced to write "I will not quack at the principal" Bart Simpson style. </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JsiE6OP-YOw/X22oFu4j7zI/AAAAAAAANTM/tiw1jjTBu3YpQtXktsapOs4vL1Eo-PTywCPcBGAYYCw/s435/brandon-adams-mighty-ducks-movie-1992-photo-GC.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="435" height="189" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JsiE6OP-YOw/X22oFu4j7zI/AAAAAAAANTM/tiw1jjTBu3YpQtXktsapOs4vL1Eo-PTywCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h189/brandon-adams-mighty-ducks-movie-1992-photo-GC.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cake-eater!</td></tr></tbody></table>Long story short, "evil" former-Hawk kid ends up having to play for the Ducks anyways, and Evil Coach gets Gordon fired from his law firm job because yeah, apparently his boss WAS going to "fire him over a bunch of ... kids?? And a game??" He doesn’t back
down, and he quits by “quacking” his way out of the building. So because he stuck up for them (and gets them out of
detention), they decide to all love him again as their coach. And at least one “your
mother!” joke later, the team meets evil kid (Adam Banks), the kid from the Hawks, and while Charlie tries to welcome him, he's quickly called a “cake-eater” and Dorkus goes <i>“ooh, the jestman, eh thenewguy, thejester...!”</i> (“Shut up Averman!”) In short, the team rejects evil kid… except
Charlie of course, because he’s too pure for this world. </div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now the Ducks are getting arrogant about tying games like true champions. The gameplan?
Give the puck to Fulton, with the sage advice: “soft hands, concentration... not
strength!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (</span>Because he can slap it but he
can’t aim... he only gets "1 out of 5" shots in). So because of Fulton, they win one game, and make the playoffs. (That’s when
you KNOW this is Peewee hockey!) Coach Gordon celebrates with the team by taking them to a
profesh hockey game where the hockey players (who say "oot" and "aboot" a lot) impress the
Ducks by remembering their coach "from peewees," and suddenly Gordon's looking pretty good if he's getting compliments from pros, so who’s
the daddy now? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good times are had to a
Randy Newman-ish song. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Speaking of daddy issues… Charlie and New Dad are sitting down to
a romantic dinner, to which the boy says: “Did you know, the Northstars last year wore the
same underwear all through the playoffs, for luck. I’m doing the same thing.” (...uh... rock on dude.) Somehow this leads to Coach Gordon and Charlie’s mom having a date at the obligatory
skating rink in the snowy Christmas park at night ala Groundhog Day, until she’s realizing that her son
may be more in love with him than she is. Oh but they kiss. Nevermind. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hh_tMuSoSmo/X227T-6DSrI/AAAAAAAANTs/SXLVLYanLxQt1KzzmoiSFWFpjFJkoPJOQCLcBGAsYHQ/s577/1620322794caeb48852398255691.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="577" height="144" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hh_tMuSoSmo/X227T-6DSrI/AAAAAAAANTs/SXLVLYanLxQt1KzzmoiSFWFpjFJkoPJOQCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h144/1620322794caeb48852398255691.jpg" width="200" /></a></p><p></p>So the team goes into the playoffs in a rousing montage of winning
streaks (and of course it makes front
page news every week). And so of course it’s the final game, and they get down
to good Coach Gordon and Mighty Ducks vs. Evil Coach and Evil Hockey Team, the Hawks. In this corner… “Win! Win!
Win!” (because winning is everything) and in that corner, “Quack! Quack! Quack!” (because ducks) … but will evil kid Banks sabotage
the game?? Does he bleed Hawk? Well, the Hawks score their first goal.
Then second. Then third. Then the Hawks conspire to take down their fellow Former-Evil-Kid Banks just because he's playing against them now. They push him
just as he scores for the Ducks, and he’s down, injured, out cold. Evil kid #2 even goes “what
did you do?” To which Eviler Kid says, in the coldest, shrewdest, most
sociopathic voice imaginable for a 10-year-old… <i>“My job.” </i>Oh it still sends shivers down my spine!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div>He does get sidelined for the body check, but Evil Coach gives him a "good job." Meanwhile, the Ducks gather around their injured comrade and suddenly decide that, though
he be a a Former Hawk and a "cake-eater," he did help them score, so maybe he’s not so bad after all. And now the kid lifts up his arm in a dying final request as the medics are wheeling him out in a stretcher: “Do
me a favor… kick some Hawk butt..." He has turned on his old team because they treated him like... well... like a hawk. He will probably die. (No wait, he shows up at the end).</div><div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ayad_gGTo7o/X22oD9lHKtI/AAAAAAAANS8/kRlcLeiS-PQ2v3cfGFMl-Nir-4oN5o-8ACPcBGAYYCw/s780/1180w-600h_100317_mighty-ducks-anniversary-780x440-1507219192.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="780" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ayad_gGTo7o/X22oD9lHKtI/AAAAAAAANS8/kRlcLeiS-PQ2v3cfGFMl-Nir-4oN5o-8ACPcBGAYYCw/w200-h113/1180w-600h_100317_mighty-ducks-anniversary-780x440-1507219192.jpg" width="200" /></a>So Misunderstood Kid Fulton scores with his bullet shot. The score's 3-2. Now the plan amongst the Hawks is to
take out Fulton. Hawks then score 4-2. Danny Tamberelli's figure skating sister somehow
scores a goal with a pirouette. 4-3! A fight breaks out amongst the teams. Misunderstood Fulton gets taken out for
fighting, even though it wasn't his fault (it was a misunderstanding!). It’s all over. No secret weapon anymore. But the Ducks hit back with the “Flying V”
formation as Old German Dude looks on… and… SCORE! 4-4!! WOOOT! TIE GAME!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>23 seconds
to go. Just enough time for the Ducks to win… Charlie’s got it… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>oh the Hawks take him down with a stick beating… times up! But because of the Hawk's bad play, it'll all come down to a single penalty shot for the game, and Coach Gordon somehow knows Charlie’s the one
to do it... because he wants to bang his mom. So will Charlie do what Gordon couldn’t as a kid?? Will history repeat?? … Will Evil Coach finally get egg on his face after all these years?? Slowmo... annnnnnnnnnd... .... YES! ALL NET!!! Last second!! DUCKS WIN!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5-4!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Music swells! <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Evil Coach egg on face! Gordon redeemed! “Ducks! Ducks!
Ducks!...”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMPUo-EK4Ys/X22oFnLhbXI/AAAAAAAANTM/1BnKVrZBux89BaiYW6DSTatiWZ4THc6HQCPcBGAYYCw/s500/MV5BZGNiNTQ3MmUtNDg0NS00NzI3LTlhMzUtYTcxYzZjNjczYWY2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyOTk3MDYxNw%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMPUo-EK4Ys/X22oFnLhbXI/AAAAAAAANTM/1BnKVrZBux89BaiYW6DSTatiWZ4THc6HQCPcBGAYYCw/w200-h150/MV5BZGNiNTQ3MmUtNDg0NS00NzI3LTlhMzUtYTcxYzZjNjczYWY2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyOTk3MDYxNw%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>And maybe Gordon gets the the girl (but was he even looking for one?) and more importantly, Charlie gets New Dad.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">See world, it's not all about winning, it’s about having fun. Because when you
are all about having fun, you always seem to win in these movies. But the real
winning is the friends we made along the way. Inter-team competition is good, but hatred of the "other team" is something always taught. </p>"A team isn't a bunch of kids out to win. A team is something you belong to, something you feel, something you have to earn." </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as long as you don't join <strike>Team I Don't Like</strike> I mean, Team Evil.<br /><br />And hey Ducks, see you next <strike>sequel</strike> season!<br /></div></div><br /></div></div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-31033656453390462852020-05-13T17:13:00.003-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.091-05:00Milk Money<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4wwgY0TyUhc/XrtxMYD_grI/AAAAAAAAMrk/ObJU9I-hpGsspYSFWIapW3MyaNOe3RAFQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/milk-796x483.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="796" height="121" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4wwgY0TyUhc/XrtxMYD_grI/AAAAAAAAMrk/ObJU9I-hpGsspYSFWIapW3MyaNOe3RAFQCPcBGAYYCw/s200/milk-796x483.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
The biggest part of growing up is learning how not to be a perv. Now I can't speak for women, but I can speak for all males of the species (because none would disagree with me), and say that without a basic lesson in not being a perv, we'd all totally become pervs (and heck, some of us even do regardless). Sure, we may have the higher national averages when it comes to doing pull ups for gym class (although I certainly didn't make 'em), but we are all straight-up pipsqueaks when it comes to... certain other physical feats. But whether or not boys of the 90s ever did learn not to be pervs (or me for that matter), this movie certainly had nothing to do with it either way... (Spoiler warning!).<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPdrKlLm_0w/XrxbgqbHTVI/AAAAAAAAMtM/LEtDyuPadBgwl3Sq80y4dPvow3NN0BP7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/94AgmLpD2NtCSwJ13rof6Bn5mfN-683x1024.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPdrKlLm_0w/XrxbgqbHTVI/AAAAAAAAMtM/LEtDyuPadBgwl3Sq80y4dPvow3NN0BP7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s200/94AgmLpD2NtCSwJ13rof6Bn5mfN-683x1024.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
Too saucy to teach a lesson on pervertry and too cringey to say "the hell with it" and just confirm us in our path down the dark side like we wanted, <i>Milk Money</i> was a 1994 (kids?) movie, hyped up as this "past yer bedtime" risque comedy, but actually a head-scratching oddball of a movie that defies any attempt to market it. As a kid, it's a "whoa, how do the grups know about boners?" revelation, and as an adult, it's a straight-up cringefest, both in its accuracy (if you, like me, had the privilege of growing up male) and in its grossness (if you didn't). Either way, I bet it was an uncomfortable time at the movies for kids and parents alike (I don't know, my parents certainly didn't take me to see it!). This is like, if <i>Good Boys</i> was meant for kids, without the subtlety or gags, but with a heaping pile of 90s schmaltz.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ir72i9xWBow/XrtxOYijYfI/AAAAAAAAMrk/xJSj58fb3dszxidF01oDhbsJ7kzhOD8EwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/tumblr_lverrapOes1qbtby5o1_540.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="535" height="128" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ir72i9xWBow/XrtxOYijYfI/AAAAAAAAMrk/xJSj58fb3dszxidF01oDhbsJ7kzhOD8EwCPcBGAYYCw/s200/tumblr_lverrapOes1qbtby5o1_540.jpg" width="200" /></a>What's not controversial about a group of boys going to solicit a prostitute only to wind up keeping her in their treehouse? Well, mainly, the three boys in question. We open up on one of their late night slumber party treehouse meetings, where in rapid secession beneath the covers they go from the opening line of the movie, "You ever fart and sneeze at the same time?" to "You ever barf up something you know you didn't eat?" to describing their best barf stories, and then to the finer qualities of spitting loogies for distance, including an anecdote about a life-ending collision of a loogie off the Empire State Building! (We 90s boys were true philosophers.) They also have some kind of "sacred" box where they put things they don't understand, which for them this night includes an object they either describe as a rubber bathtub drain plug, a drinking cup, or a device that, in their words, "prevents the passage of sperm into the uterus in girls." (One of them was right.) Another one, our main protag Frankie, puts in a photo of his dead mother, saying he'd like to know what having a mom is like. Whoa! Okaaaay... so... yeah... um.... ... ... Anyways, "Have you ever noticed that girls don't fart??" (FACT) and, hey! The flashlight's glow circle on the ceiling "totally looks like a boob!" (Also FACT)</div><div><br /></div><div>So yeah, pretty accurate to guys, I'd say.<br /><div>
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Oh and by the way, these kids are like, 11 years old, at least, so we're in "charming" Goonies territory, not in raunchy "Bill and Ted" territory, but even more amped up, because while those movies were about other things with a sprinkling of wink-wink-nudge-nudge naughty sex for laughs, this movie's <i>whole plot</i> is the naughty bits! So get ready, because you're in for a ride down the hormone roller coaster for this one, but it's everydude's hormone roller coaster, so it's gonna make you laugh, not cry, because boners are funny. It's like a bowl of Lucky Charms that's just the Lucky Charms... all sex all the time.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLzwxdt40t4/Xrt6RGszn5I/AAAAAAAAMsU/oa6g9DeftZcfuBE8KK5efFWGrXUiz4OuQCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqxfQF7946yy34UayGpMVR1f2M0yIzpLUHN2YL6KVRM5u-IAq8ttL22pZOGrseCCKXaokoI492vkZq8WFfLjY-vGfT88UK7UQMgekzD0FfGnftmQw59e8VJnbocCZcl0XUpfo2QDDe5C44_CeL0u9-9HaidvQRmimUhJlKXzRRNys8vQfhAVxgI7_c9MII-z75IAkSPIk3FLL0F92BxnAaNM_oSDZyFEWw5ylm6JTMVhvz5T17ah3r-P9Csyo51rmcPWQiFlDQTcReWQ-CqYokpxIQgYn60ffXZ_W7YjUNxFlKxMC8SrhlR69kpN4NsT0BuOzEfsOA8ZogtP3hnI27gPGNjMeZcxW8S7lVOeSLySDrBq3kNGpaYPMU4wcBduy00HfSJ7aHCA_Dq5FXOf5-qHje4BRZHeu4xxPCq6kUTIoY-KMm3OM2ef9ee5xHYBxA8P-j9WR7NW04B1j7wpOQE_Ype_dgIbR2Uh1M67wN49VtjJ_1nud-Xd-7Zi_2-nrTpZEyqjT30Y3stliCQoqd0MjmFmjmFm07HfepNnRPEheij6XSd0T-vj1hAKDoeEP7pvsv4Ch0g44oytBLVcwPVZ1oLxBFMHZ0MwpPvt9QU/s1600/unnamed.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="512" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLzwxdt40t4/Xrt6RGszn5I/AAAAAAAAMsU/oa6g9DeftZcfuBE8KK5efFWGrXUiz4OuQCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqxfQF7946yy34UayGpMVR1f2M0yIzpLUHN2YL6KVRM5u-IAq8ttL22pZOGrseCCKXaokoI492vkZq8WFfLjY-vGfT88UK7UQMgekzD0FfGnftmQw59e8VJnbocCZcl0XUpfo2QDDe5C44_CeL0u9-9HaidvQRmimUhJlKXzRRNys8vQfhAVxgI7_c9MII-z75IAkSPIk3FLL0F92BxnAaNM_oSDZyFEWw5ylm6JTMVhvz5T17ah3r-P9Csyo51rmcPWQiFlDQTcReWQ-CqYokpxIQgYn60ffXZ_W7YjUNxFlKxMC8SrhlR69kpN4NsT0BuOzEfsOA8ZogtP3hnI27gPGNjMeZcxW8S7lVOeSLySDrBq3kNGpaYPMU4wcBduy00HfSJ7aHCA_Dq5FXOf5-qHje4BRZHeu4xxPCq6kUTIoY-KMm3OM2ef9ee5xHYBxA8P-j9WR7NW04B1j7wpOQE_Ype_dgIbR2Uh1M67wN49VtjJ_1nud-Xd-7Zi_2-nrTpZEyqjT30Y3stliCQoqd0MjmFmjmFm07HfepNnRPEheij6XSd0T-vj1hAKDoeEP7pvsv4Ch0g44oytBLVcwPVZ1oLxBFMHZ0MwpPvt9QU/s200/unnamed.jpg" width="200" /></a>The movie mainly follows this kid Frank, who suffers from "90s dead mom" disease and reads Cosmo at the breakfast table to get info on women for his Sex Ed class, and his aloof dad who suffers from "needs to get laid because he's interested in swamps" (because "Hey Butthead, wetlands!" "Heheh you said "wet."). He asks his dad if his mom was a virgin when he married her, to which his dad replies, "what, are you studying religion?" (Genuine lol!) So yeah, we get the idea here that this kid is reeeeeeeeeally missing his mom. Not even Littlefoot was getting into gynecology to assuage his dead mom bereavement (just crawling into her womb-like footprints). This kid is all kindsa messed up to say the least, since he conflates "knowing more about his mom" with studying the mysteries of the fabled G-spot in girls (not even joking, this is in the movie). Freud would have a field day on this kid. But his dad is also kinda messed up, because the man retorts with, "in my experience, there is no such spot."<br />
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(Well, okay, maybe dad here and I agree on something...)</div>
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Anyways, after that totally normal father and son breakfast, the movie then follows the quest of our three "charming" young would-be johns watching porn on their Zenith TV-set and hatching a plan to make some quick cash so they can go to "a place where the girls are naked all the time, where guys can see naked girls all they want, all hours of the day, for anyone with guts and a hundred bucks." You guessed it... "the city!" They do this via a "milk money" scheme at their school, and thus the movie's namesake is revealed. It's also revealed that our little goon squad here is not so smooth with girls their own age at their school for being dorkii maximii to the extreme (like we didn't already figure that). (See, Frankie wants the stereotypical blonde "bitchy" girl at school, and so ignores the advances of the more dorky girl who may actually like him but clings to the bitchy blonde girl out of instinct). In any case, before I could even figure out what they were actually doing to make their "milk money," they're off to "the city" on their two-speed bikes (flags and cards in the spokes 'n all) with a bag of nickels to go find the hallowed thing known as "the hooker." They get there and discover that just waltzing up to random women on the street and soliciting for prostitution gets them only a slap in the face (in a scene I WISH I had a GIF for!). This normally would've been the end of most young boys' journeys into true manhood at that time, but it turns out these three are in luck!<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-brCJ-BQsJXk/XrtxNgxVpuI/AAAAAAAAMrk/fzPv1xpdwlAZDxpHW5HN-ebJbnmvAWtgwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/MV5BNDg5ODM2YzYtMmVmNS00NTQ4LWJlNGItNDZiOTI4NjNkNGUxXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjUyNDk2ODc%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="1000" height="121" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-brCJ-BQsJXk/XrtxNgxVpuI/AAAAAAAAMrk/fzPv1xpdwlAZDxpHW5HN-ebJbnmvAWtgwCPcBGAYYCw/s200/MV5BNDg5ODM2YzYtMmVmNS00NTQ4LWJlNGItNDZiOTI4NjNkNGUxXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjUyNDk2ODc%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a>While all this was going on, wouldnchaknowit, a smokin' hot prostitute who only goes by the name V ("heart of gold" included) is getting screwed over by her latest john in a mafia shootout that lands her in trouble with both her pimp and this cartel being run by Malcolm McDowell. Long story short, she crosses paths with our young champions of masculinity in training, and decides to take them under her wing (after all, they WERE paying her a bag of nickels). She decides to give them a little "peepshow" for their money's worth and takes them up to her flat. And after some haggling around, she actually does end up lying down on the bed and showing off "the goods" to our three intrepid little goons. Well, unfortunately for him, our hero Frankie suddenly decides he wants to be a "gentleman" and covers his eyes at the moment of truth (no Frankie, whaddayadoin!). She takes their bag of nickels and runs back to her pimp with it right afterwards to try to pay him, to which he replies, "What am I, a Laundromat?" and throws it against the wall. (Once again, genuine lol!)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMJsufykb4I/XrtxMJK2bYI/AAAAAAAAMrk/Mttd1bwt_s8sxXpe9k9MZV92V55_77tJgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/melanie%2Bgriffith%2Bmilk%2Bmoney.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="845" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMJsufykb4I/XrtxMJK2bYI/AAAAAAAAMrk/Mttd1bwt_s8sxXpe9k9MZV92V55_77tJgCPcBGAYYCw/s200/melanie%2Bgriffith%2Bmilk%2Bmoney.jpg" width="200" /></a>Long story short, she ends up running into the goon squad again after she steals the car of her pimp. She realizes she has to take these kids back to their own neighborhood to presumably masturbate the rest of the day away, not knowing that there is a large sum of money hidden in the gas tank (of all places!), which was going to be used to pay off Malcolm McDowell. He then becomes obsessed with finding her and retrieving his money from the car (so much so he murders her pimp). The car promptly poops the bed outside the house for reasons our heroes don't know yet (money in the gas tank will do that) and now she needs a place to stay. So the plot of the movie sets in. V is on the run and hiding in this kid's treehouse as his dimwit dad mistakes her to be his son's math tutor (<i>she can multiply my hypotenuse</i>... crap, never mind). His dad tries for a few days to fix the car and offers her a place to stay as they engage in a slew of double-entendres that he fails to get. Heck, the audience of 10-year-olds watching this could get that she's not talking about "starting his engines" literally, or whatever, but wow... how did this guy ever reproduce? (The role of the dad probably should've been played by Robin Williams, or someone who has a little more natural charm than the dry board that this guy was here, but Williams obviously didn't need this at the time.)<br />
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Okay... now in most movies of this type, this would set the stage for a typical hijinks-filled romp plot about thirsty teen guys willing to do anything for roll in the sheets, but this movie for some reason had to be a kids movie, so it had to ruin all this "sexy" setup by getting schmaltzy around this point. What ensues is mostly a more by-the-numbers series of "bonding" moments where she becomes more like a mom to this kid and more like a girlfriend to his dad, and also more and more enamored with this slice of domestic bliss she's never been able to experience... yadda yadda. If anything, the movie starts to serve the purpose of taking the boyhood joy of "bringin' yer old man a cold one!" to its furthest extent, as in, "bringin' yer old man a HOT one!" The moral being, kids... get your dad laid. Your life will be so much better for it! (It's a sentiment that probably landed very well with the test audiences.)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aX5rAPa5lHk/XrtxONNDdjI/AAAAAAAAMrk/z1mDVYj6zBweuPypPb6V4FGG9Do_OeOlgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/rs2SP8j0tgGkGUfLh8k4BpteIQjUnPnjYA78HZMtFJNFMvPmf46xZ9-e9wkUdFMnQDhjLSI_EuJcrZvxLGDCsTXKNEHA9OAc1VGe3HM4Xpc.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="1152" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aX5rAPa5lHk/XrtxONNDdjI/AAAAAAAAMrk/z1mDVYj6zBweuPypPb6V4FGG9Do_OeOlgCPcBGAYYCw/s200/rs2SP8j0tgGkGUfLh8k4BpteIQjUnPnjYA78HZMtFJNFMvPmf46xZ9-e9wkUdFMnQDhjLSI_EuJcrZvxLGDCsTXKNEHA9OAc1VGe3HM4Xpc.jpg" width="200" /></a>It's amazing what a hooker will do for your life in middle school. The confidence boost that Frankie gets from having a "mom" figure in his life seems to do the trick, especially when he starts telling the girls at his school that she's his "aunt" (making her his dad's "sister"... and then leading to that girl's utter confusion at a restaurant when she sees his dad and V making out on a date!) (Mom to brother and sister: "You kids should be more affectionate with each other, like them!" *Kissing* Brother: "I am NOT doing that!"). This leads to the funniest line of the movie where dorky girl realizes the obvious: "Mom she's not his aunt... she's a hooker." (LOL!) The rest of the film plays out much as you'd expect, except for one gut-bustingly hijinky scene where little Frankie boy brings his "aunt" into his Sex Ed class to use as a living demonstration of the female anatomy in front of the whole class... giving him instant LEGENDARY status with everyone and probably an expulsion in the mail. But it does help his chances with the girls he was trying to get with at the beginning, and suddenly he's turning down the advances of the stuck up bitchy blonde girl to get with the dorky girl at the school dance, right in front of her face! Ohhhhh snap! Maybe Frankie's actually doing something right for a change and getting with girls who are more in his league, (or at least in his age group), or at least who maybe have a soul.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-57IeJHMlaYM/XrxaJ-WCndI/AAAAAAAAMso/8Kf_tleuGZAT79JPMPz9v6dQOWFFMcn9gCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1Ocqxakoq2-cIIhWtjD4yWoLYnxq_OCW6M_kM7WQCmIOMgZ8OtW02jYVbvnyD3vaLRfjDkNoLRGDr8iWT9hKhlOYtByPPLpfSEMO6DDKiAEfjbJzBSKnN27PPeHvmLv0ZFlGm3Gy5j7DyNkLM18qND-wztLm_dTJ5fnGiVj7E2Z3u4IGLRIF_juWto8P9Myb_dpIiVTXYZ8yCY61K0rwK-JSTV3t72ldVW9Gxrhh7UdLuHVRf2jcb6XYklRPyZMCDi31zkxwaCELDHDBMy3MKfKA2E3-cNwUkK-F5_CgaM8Mhf7RSUXqmJrbRx0ERPMyKwUZRBw8tL0KyrTzO_V17LmFIp8B6A2V7nUZ6mQ10cKsKf622cATLhyafCB3JOc7OeUPfrUAyEpGXe2FnINcj_57j6dzi0OPoeVhzprr_KdFw1GkX_L65qsMqb0YjzJ6muXx7Qy5Bq54nKJmpLCIuQYJ_aJwYPnHIuJDLlr7--ww6l2klCB-RSN5O5krdTX3GgmYuHJMQ6V5fBujlyB-isqDPmaRlsL3PezJXogKdZtDBfgkyPaKlJ0n3sKcJ6dbFxU5DYnv3JL2QuIr3cQ3uoXAZVfCJtusHDvlwwjrnx9QU/s1600/ckvah-MZ0QGWA3BZQ-Full-Image_GalleryBackground-en-US-1574740979908._SX1080_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="1080" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-57IeJHMlaYM/XrxaJ-WCndI/AAAAAAAAMso/8Kf_tleuGZAT79JPMPz9v6dQOWFFMcn9gCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1Ocqxakoq2-cIIhWtjD4yWoLYnxq_OCW6M_kM7WQCmIOMgZ8OtW02jYVbvnyD3vaLRfjDkNoLRGDr8iWT9hKhlOYtByPPLpfSEMO6DDKiAEfjbJzBSKnN27PPeHvmLv0ZFlGm3Gy5j7DyNkLM18qND-wztLm_dTJ5fnGiVj7E2Z3u4IGLRIF_juWto8P9Myb_dpIiVTXYZ8yCY61K0rwK-JSTV3t72ldVW9Gxrhh7UdLuHVRf2jcb6XYklRPyZMCDi31zkxwaCELDHDBMy3MKfKA2E3-cNwUkK-F5_CgaM8Mhf7RSUXqmJrbRx0ERPMyKwUZRBw8tL0KyrTzO_V17LmFIp8B6A2V7nUZ6mQ10cKsKf622cATLhyafCB3JOc7OeUPfrUAyEpGXe2FnINcj_57j6dzi0OPoeVhzprr_KdFw1GkX_L65qsMqb0YjzJ6muXx7Qy5Bq54nKJmpLCIuQYJ_aJwYPnHIuJDLlr7--ww6l2klCB-RSN5O5krdTX3GgmYuHJMQ6V5fBujlyB-isqDPmaRlsL3PezJXogKdZtDBfgkyPaKlJ0n3sKcJ6dbFxU5DYnv3JL2QuIr3cQ3uoXAZVfCJtusHDvlwwjrnx9QU/s200/ckvah-MZ0QGWA3BZQ-Full-Image_GalleryBackground-en-US-1574740979908._SX1080_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
In any case, dad finally fixes the car and... you know where this is going. The mobster guy Malcolm McDowell tracks them down and they're off in a high speed chase that ends with all the money going up in flames and Malcolm McDowell certain she went up in the blaze with it, or just not caring either way. But he actually gets away in the end, which is... pretty bold for a movie like this. Now free from being hunted, V is also free to settle down into what we would assume would be that "domestic bliss" happy schmaltzy ending... but not so fast! We learn that V had confiscated at least some large portion of the mobster's money before the car wreck, AND that she's bought the wetlands from being turned into parking lots (making dad really aroused!), AND we learn that she's also bought the ice cream parlor in town... so now she's an independent business woman who donneed-no-man! Whhhhhaaat? But... <i>why don't you guys come down for a scoop some time? </i>Aw shucks! And so in the end, we learn that the only thing better than not being a prostitute is being free to have your ice cream and eat it too.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruvwisHSfnI/XrxaJyiNJ6I/AAAAAAAAMtA/ZSaDkqSPwIYv1-CH3v55gyZv5xqipSWkwCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1Ocqy6oajcuS2dQnRWKxR-NM7-5sJhLSlJY4m-jCXefZfEeW7tKBlbu2vle_J0yImoMQjWn3tLFqQ0SujGDdoiS-pqMFUUKBSu6vDFWFWbS2280B5MSWHCDiSPfyBVFah-RAUZyLNZoWdqTQRHjAOWWU2m0Xuq3GMsC8PodJSBf6QkO0Y20NpFYxd6TZAa7j8ds9pviQNErAhCiLosMy_xLtT8gjwCPqLj8uIQg31Wcstd8ZU6T53VX9Ad3MOWt30fA4JJ50D26m5J51NdCmwnpusXLCb_i-7EzVJbpUb77bydq6cvMGJgvYqTs40HIncweK22p3wEO604Ou0nktsfUNzgN73YaTiYTw0AnVOK3-OCvqUeZ8A0ZBx6hStm2EVbzpAUSN4Nd5ZdAS32fz5V4QbEeMwF6he7wPdk8qItwd6KDkgbHYonfk6S9txA0wA7EBha2MDtan1Y-hojwx34ImBuqcXoINVIMY-KE_Fx8N2PLEmbhRukdDg0KTefQj6FRxUNnPCKLTIqvHFppKi16i3HoNaZLtQtYGRVDxkZdGlS_17KsGC3D6swI-1bdM9gwV0GeezT8OC-xFEavgm4g_lvwIrVgXoynpkwirvx9QU/s1600/bdb2603de317fa534e42f165436d5f4e.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruvwisHSfnI/XrxaJyiNJ6I/AAAAAAAAMtA/ZSaDkqSPwIYv1-CH3v55gyZv5xqipSWkwCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1Ocqy6oajcuS2dQnRWKxR-NM7-5sJhLSlJY4m-jCXefZfEeW7tKBlbu2vle_J0yImoMQjWn3tLFqQ0SujGDdoiS-pqMFUUKBSu6vDFWFWbS2280B5MSWHCDiSPfyBVFah-RAUZyLNZoWdqTQRHjAOWWU2m0Xuq3GMsC8PodJSBf6QkO0Y20NpFYxd6TZAa7j8ds9pviQNErAhCiLosMy_xLtT8gjwCPqLj8uIQg31Wcstd8ZU6T53VX9Ad3MOWt30fA4JJ50D26m5J51NdCmwnpusXLCb_i-7EzVJbpUb77bydq6cvMGJgvYqTs40HIncweK22p3wEO604Ou0nktsfUNzgN73YaTiYTw0AnVOK3-OCvqUeZ8A0ZBx6hStm2EVbzpAUSN4Nd5ZdAS32fz5V4QbEeMwF6he7wPdk8qItwd6KDkgbHYonfk6S9txA0wA7EBha2MDtan1Y-hojwx34ImBuqcXoINVIMY-KE_Fx8N2PLEmbhRukdDg0KTefQj6FRxUNnPCKLTIqvHFppKi16i3HoNaZLtQtYGRVDxkZdGlS_17KsGC3D6swI-1bdM9gwV0GeezT8OC-xFEavgm4g_lvwIrVgXoynpkwirvx9QU/s200/bdb2603de317fa534e42f165436d5f4e.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
So all's well that ends well. Frankie gets a girl his own age and a "mom" figure in his life. Dad gets his wetlands (and maybe a friend with benefits). V get's a million smackers rather than a million smacks and operates her own small business. And Frankie's friends... well, at least they don't turn out to be pervert pimps (we assume). Oh yeah, and we all learn that there IS a spot on a girl you can touch that will drive her crazy... (A: "it's her heart.") It was her "heart" all along! Go figure!<br />
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Oh the feels... (in the heart that is.)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--psgReDA51E/XrxaKRK77cI/AAAAAAAAMs0/BQkOr-pvdssuVkGEVJPu8MV8-cSBVZXYQCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqxOq48eko9utAkwcio7WHw3Bb6uKlv_l0cirLNc2ahoUc2JOHImB_JbwUoA1eV35iW8rXEWw5n-oB9MYE6cMMSXuwdI80KEjr8UgSDaMBH2907Sr9_Mmq_lOB-6AywCpie10WyYavLq78O5NtwF9VQYgkTP967Qe3PClUsFUIFXdC4-zxLl_VTdR5X_vyZPSBa42pqXSS2qFLATvHZiIswccvV52Wyp01Xev5RYvvq1ycrf60AZsC3p7ib5w5nytvOdsJwHwrPNPQS0XKYciod82V6eoh34Kb7kvyZT2-XTOD0z3CmZ8udttgav3jS-lbcBw2I1DzdLgOCe4FtZUMAD-bHVn1hdNsrSOp6JCN2HNpKMYQaRZVs8a6DmZTJKIcs5xTWNjLn7rELJgo5zoCNRFpohZS2pABWVPTH5BPVhYR0VGJU1f3hpSWPHUOjcAZZw4hSfdkLVoIrQWCOGGb8iN63s6Iz9yzqZR2U0RdOp-XwaYRT3WFtObKwUWAIx1wjDepsMPdH3e5VWH7JH1PxR9zPSZB7crvAqZ0vrR91061_GSNzQMdjapBpnvbBKIr-xP9-bWl2XDeLLxIK7Gmua8PUKNBJVhSAwpbnx9QU/s1600/milk-money-lg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="600" height="136" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--psgReDA51E/XrxaKRK77cI/AAAAAAAAMs0/BQkOr-pvdssuVkGEVJPu8MV8-cSBVZXYQCEwYBhgLKs0DAL1OcqxOq48eko9utAkwcio7WHw3Bb6uKlv_l0cirLNc2ahoUc2JOHImB_JbwUoA1eV35iW8rXEWw5n-oB9MYE6cMMSXuwdI80KEjr8UgSDaMBH2907Sr9_Mmq_lOB-6AywCpie10WyYavLq78O5NtwF9VQYgkTP967Qe3PClUsFUIFXdC4-zxLl_VTdR5X_vyZPSBa42pqXSS2qFLATvHZiIswccvV52Wyp01Xev5RYvvq1ycrf60AZsC3p7ib5w5nytvOdsJwHwrPNPQS0XKYciod82V6eoh34Kb7kvyZT2-XTOD0z3CmZ8udttgav3jS-lbcBw2I1DzdLgOCe4FtZUMAD-bHVn1hdNsrSOp6JCN2HNpKMYQaRZVs8a6DmZTJKIcs5xTWNjLn7rELJgo5zoCNRFpohZS2pABWVPTH5BPVhYR0VGJU1f3hpSWPHUOjcAZZw4hSfdkLVoIrQWCOGGb8iN63s6Iz9yzqZR2U0RdOp-XwaYRT3WFtObKwUWAIx1wjDepsMPdH3e5VWH7JH1PxR9zPSZB7crvAqZ0vrR91061_GSNzQMdjapBpnvbBKIr-xP9-bWl2XDeLLxIK7Gmua8PUKNBJVhSAwpbnx9QU/s200/milk-money-lg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Actually, trying to figure out how Milk Money even got made is half the fun of watching the movie. As you're sitting there as a kid watching it with your parents, you get the sneaking suspicion that they're in on your secret, porn-mag-under-the-mattress world. As a parent, you're wondering why they didn't just make this either some heartfelt kids' movie or some American Pie raunchy adult comedy. It's a weird one... (if that wasn't obvious to you), but one thing is certain. All's well that ends well, and for once it was all because "boys will be boys!"<br />
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For once!</div>
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Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-34809711091512967522020-01-16T18:31:00.000-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.092-05:00Harriet the Spy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_GbuTk7GYc/XgrLcJ-HJGI/AAAAAAAAMR8/zjj1Tj2gIEwavQDTaZ1vTNVJmqZ0Dc0iwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/-Harriet-the-Spy-1996-michelle-trachtenberg-34961093-938-520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="699" height="146" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_GbuTk7GYc/XgrLcJ-HJGI/AAAAAAAAMR8/zjj1Tj2gIEwavQDTaZ1vTNVJmqZ0Dc0iwCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/-Harriet-the-Spy-1996-michelle-trachtenberg-34961093-938-520.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
In all the hullabaloo about female heroines these days, it's refreshing to pull from the past and find examples that actually get it right. Ellen Ripley in the Alien movies. Sarah Conner from the Terminator movies. Dr. Ellie Satler from Jurassic Park. Jodie Foster in Contact...etc. And that's crazy because it's not something that should be so hard to begin with, especially these days, this whole idea of a "strong female character" who is also human, maybe even flawed, but still gets the job done. That's like, an everyday thing. If anything, it should be harder to write emotionally deep and complex male characters who are also "heroic" (indeed, 'tis much more rare). <i>Harriet the Spy</i> though accomplishes both feats, and for that and many other reasons, it may not only be a defining movie of any 90s childhood, but an important movie for our current times of Twitter take-downs, "savage" hot takes, and "call out culture." Harriet knows why none of this is good. She blazed that trail, and we would do well to learn the easy way what she learned the hard way. And no, it's not just that "a good spy never gets caught."<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wRWLrCR_-24/XgWVtdb-doI/AAAAAAAAMRA/3X_Yin9RJCgQ2Ngivk9SxIe1GfLgj1x7wCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/MV5BY2UwOTQ0Y2QtZmM4NC00ZTRiLWIyZDUtMmIzYzg4MjQyNTUyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDAxNjkxNjQ%2540._V1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1013" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wRWLrCR_-24/XgWVtdb-doI/AAAAAAAAMRA/3X_Yin9RJCgQ2Ngivk9SxIe1GfLgj1x7wCPcBGAYYCw/s200/MV5BY2UwOTQ0Y2QtZmM4NC00ZTRiLWIyZDUtMmIzYzg4MjQyNTUyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDAxNjkxNjQ%2540._V1_.jpg" width="135" /></a>I may be biased because when I was growing up and first saw this movie, I had a childhood crush on Michelle Trachtenberg, who plays our titular heroine Harriet. I was familiar with her as Younger Pete's tit-for-tat girlfriend on <i>The Adventures of Pete and Pete</i>, one of my favorite shows back then. Her antics were what made the later season of <i>Pete and Pete</i> worthwhile, and it was downright awesome that they saw her potential and gave her her own movie to boot. And as an avid Nickelodeon watcher, I was well aware of the fact that Nickelodeon was pumping their "first ever movie!" all over the airwaves, starring none other than "Pete and Pete" star Trachtenberg. Since then we've gotten used to Nickelodeon movies being sure bets of trad Nick properties (Rugrats, Good Burger, Jimmy Neutron, Hey Arnold, Spongebob, Wild Thornberries, Spongebob, Last Airbender, Spongebob...etc), or big dumb "boy movies" like <i>TMNT</i>, <i>TMNT: Out of the Shadows</i>, <i>TMNT: Return to Ooz</i>e ... and 2017's <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monster_Trucks_(film)">Monster Trucks</a></i>. Eek. With that track record, it's surprising to think that Nickelodeon once took a risk on their first movie and decided to do both a coming of age dramady, an adaptation of an old children's book... and one starring... a GIRL!? That just goes to show you how... far?... we've come since 1996? <i>*shrugs*</i><br />
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(Okay... <i>Snow Day</i> was a hoot, I'll give them that. Not a good movie, but still a hoot.)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dEY6CFcdpmE/XiEBhhW1uqI/AAAAAAAAMWY/5P3AUSOX6PsqyRkvRtJJ2ttRnmU-brEVgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/tumblr_mdrs8lT0F41r79nqko1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="410" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dEY6CFcdpmE/XiEBhhW1uqI/AAAAAAAAMWY/5P3AUSOX6PsqyRkvRtJJ2ttRnmU-brEVgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/tumblr_mdrs8lT0F41r79nqko1_500.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
Which brings me back to Harriet. "Hoot" is not how I would describe this movie. Matilda was a "hoot." Harriet is what we would describe these days as "deep," or at least "woke AF," but that could just be because we're dealing with a girl for a change, and a particularly precocious one at that. She dreams of being a writer. She keeps tabs on people in her life, her school friends and enemies, and everyone she runs into in her neighborhood, including the family who owns the Chinese food restaurant in town, and she writes everything down in her "private" notebook. She's kinda spoiled, but headstrong. She's got rich parents who don't spend much time with her, so she bonds mostly with her nanny, Rosie O'Donnell, a wisdom-spouting Obi Wan Kenobi. Yeah. Speaking of Twitter gods, Rosie O'Donnell plays Rosie O'Donnell in this movie. It's amazing. Anyways, Harriet's other best friends include this boy named "Sport" who is a kind of "domestic goddess" in his own house because he's poor and his dad's a drunk, and a girl named Janie who performs dangerous chemistry experiments in her bedroom. See what I mean? Not only can girls do science, but boys can cook and clean house with the best of 'em! <i>*mind blown* </i> 1996 ftw!<br />
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Harriet's life changes one night when her nanny Golly brings a date over for an evening meal at the house, leading to the absolute funniest and most inexplicable "stare off" between any two characters in any movie ever. (If you're reading this, you know the scene!) Anyways, Golly burns the meal and three of them decide to go out to the movies instead. They have a great time and come back late. Too late. Harriet's mom and dad are home from their high class business lifestyle or whatever, and FLIP the F@%K OUT for no other reason than they're two snobby buttholes who object to Harriet bringing tomato+mayo sandwiches to school every day (and other stuff, but that was always the take away for me). They fire Golly on the spot, and then immediately beg her to stay. But Golly's got some pride and decides to leave anyway. And right there. That's some real shit. Golly could return and stay a part of Harriet's life, but she decides that it's better to be a good role model for Harriet and leave on her own terms and allow Harriet room to grow on her own terms as well. Right there ladies and gents, is a strong female character. Anyways, Golly tells Harriet to never give up writing and to channel all of her observations about people into a novel... so that she can one day buy an autographed copy. Then Golly rides off in a yellow taxi, in a scene that is WAY more heartbreaking than that little dickcheese Simba losing his dear ol' buttfart dad.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aRwP6ICMCw8/XgWVty0q3OI/AAAAAAAAMRI/7TdZpIxLnhkxNu96SilOzKc1ARDEURvGQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/QHYW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aRwP6ICMCw8/XgWVty0q3OI/AAAAAAAAMRI/7TdZpIxLnhkxNu96SilOzKc1ARDEURvGQCPcBGAYYCw/s200/QHYW.gif" width="200" /></a>And so, in the absence of her mentor, Harriet goes full-tilt into the "spy" role she loves so much, which means suiting up in boots and taking along spy gear such as cameras and scopes, and for some unexplained reason a bright yellow trench coat (conspicuous much?). She even sneaks into a mansion at one point and spies on some old lady from the inside of the house's dumbwaiter in a scene as tense as anything you'll see in a Mission Impossible movie (and much more funnier when she's discovered). In all her travels, she records detailed notes on what everyone she's interested in is up to... and you can kinda see where it's going...<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Lc8V0cJNFc/XiEBhjwagzI/AAAAAAAAMWo/FX06fTW1dE0dw7h5dFWSpFeqNDanDOTZgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Harriet_the_Spy_12106_Medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="412" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Lc8V0cJNFc/XiEBhjwagzI/AAAAAAAAMWo/FX06fTW1dE0dw7h5dFWSpFeqNDanDOTZgCPcBGAYYCw/s200/Harriet_the_Spy_12106_Medium.jpg" width="133" /></a>Harriet the Spy branded <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/757788657/harriet-the-spy-promotional-movie-fanny">"spy" merch</a>! Hell yeah! Back in the day there was a call in sweepstakes on Nickelodeon where kids could call an 800 number for a chance to get an exclusive "Harriet the Spy Kit" ... presumably a belt with a binoculars, a magnifier, a flashlight, and one of those black-and-white school notebooks with the word "PRIVATE" written on it. Awwww yeah. Needless to say, I was not one of the lucky few. Not like I couldn't make my own kit... which apparently <a href="https://www.retro-daze.org/site/article/id/9393">many kids did</a>... and I'm sure none of them got busted for "super sleuthing." Nope. I sure didn't. "A good spy doesn't get caught!"<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMgpsihsMXk/XgvI2aJZpxI/AAAAAAAAMSI/-hvFkzqOC2QnCwe-0ar_wNA4HpGqzONBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Harriet-The-Spy-gregory-smith-20687125-544-304.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="544" height="111" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMgpsihsMXk/XgvI2aJZpxI/AAAAAAAAMSI/-hvFkzqOC2QnCwe-0ar_wNA4HpGqzONBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/Harriet-The-Spy-gregory-smith-20687125-544-304.png" width="200" /></a>So Harriet gets caught. As is the case with most coming of age girl movies, the main villain of the movie is a stuck up <strike>bitch</strike> ... I mean <i>rich</i> girl in their class, Marion Hawthorne, who seemingly spends every night and day plotting ways to torment our main cast. In doing so, the movie really sheds a light on just how mean and vindictive girl bullying can be, and also how accurate. There are scenes between Harriet and Marion as this thing progresses that get so real that you almost wonder how these characters are going to survive the movie without throwing a toaster in the bathtub (and this was before <i>Mean Girls</i>!)! Well, one day in the park, Harriet is playing with her friends and gets a little careless with her private notebook where she's been talking trash about everyone behind their backs. The notebook goes missing, only to be found in the hands of one, Marion Hawthorne, who proceeds to read Harriet's "observations" about everyone in attendance right from the page. Suddenly, everyone knows Sport is poor and his dad's a drunk, that Janie's science ambitions are strange, and that Marion Hawthorne's parents are never around or something. Indeed, no one is safe from Harriet and her pen! Immediately shocked, they all turn on her in probably the most played scene in the movie.<br />
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But this reveal is only the beginning. What really makes this movie interesting now is that Harriet knows she done goofed, and yeah, she sulks and apologizes and tries to do the right thing and move on. She even tries to give people space and give them time to get over it, but no one lets her live it down. She's pariahed. She's ignored. And just when she accepts her fate, they all start conspiring against her to make her life a living hell at the school and abroad, even starting a "Spy-Catchers" Club and dousing her with blue paint during class in the basic "tar and feather" routine of every angry mob in history. She slaps Marion in the face, and is immediately under the Gestapo as her desk is now checked daily for "notebooks."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This kid is so 90s it's funny...</td></tr>
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The emotions get so raw here that Harriet then begins lashing out at everyone else in retaliation for their attacks on her, and the movie actually starts taking a dark turn. She spreads the fact that Marion's father doesn't love her to everyone in attendance in that most sacred of gossip areas... "the girls room." She sabotages Janie's science experiments to disillusion her friend. And then the worst: she spreads leaflets all over school to emasculate Sport, picturing him in a dress and a duster under the moniker "Man of the House!" Yikes. She is sent to one of those new-agey sycophant child psychologists who get paid 100 bucks an hour to play board games with kids, so nothing comes of it.<br />
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And that's it. It's over. And she spirals into a deep depression and probably contemplates suicide in the bathtub... But then, just as every bridge is burned... she gets her notebook back and Golly comes back into her life (now on good terms with her parents) and gives her some sage advice: "Beauty is truth, and truth, beauty." Basically, maybe the truth about people doesn't have to hurt them. Words can destroy, but they can also build, and Harriet has to learn to use her powers of observation for good.<i> "I want to know everything"</i> she says, but for what purpose if not to make the world better?<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcrolkBLgM/XgWVtVeAMfI/AAAAAAAAMRE/sX6fKiyBO8gjwyqWOL9a57kaByTPilQgQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/MV5BMTM4YmNiMTAtM2U5OC00ODEwLWE1NDctNDA2YTUxZDliYTZkXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzU4ODM5Nw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C668%252C1000_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="668" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcrolkBLgM/XgWVtVeAMfI/AAAAAAAAMRE/sX6fKiyBO8gjwyqWOL9a57kaByTPilQgQCPcBGAYYCw/s200/MV5BMTM4YmNiMTAtM2U5OC00ODEwLWE1NDctNDA2YTUxZDliYTZkXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzU4ODM5Nw%2540%2540._V1_SY1000_CR0%252C0%252C668%252C1000_AL_.jpg" width="133" /></a>So despite the fact that her relationship with her friends seems shattered beyond repair, the only thing more factual is that Marion Hawthorne turns out to be an even worse star for all of Harriet's friends to have hitched their wagons to, suddenly realizing that they've all been turned into her little pets. They decide enough is enough one by one and sever their loyalties to the rich girl, but back to Harriet they still dare not tread, not until Harriet gets her opportunity to use her observation skills for good. She recounts to all of them in the class paper all the good things she likes about them, and that certainly chalks one up for her side. But she really gets her chance to shine when a series of fortunate events leads to a performance of the typical "healthy eating" school play becoming ground zero for a good ole' biohazard stink bomb blowout that her and her friends wage, all while Marion Hawthorne is playing the signature role! Woobah! I guess you could say, it's "curtains" for her!<br />
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So all is well that ends well. Harriet learns her lesson, her friends are back in her column, and we are all the better for it. So yeah, pretty important stuff for the "call-out" culture we are living under. Learn the lesson that Harriet M. Welsch has to teach us, that if you can't say something nice about someone, don't... er... well, see, gossip spreads like a proverbial stink bomb in the wind. Let him who hath not been a douchebag cast the first blue paint... m'kay? Someone please get the message to Twitter users. Oooh snap!Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-38924928531810766502019-11-08T23:41:00.006-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.093-05:00Something Else Worth Being Alive For...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">A E S T H E T I C</span></i></td></tr>
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Any kid of the 90s knows how popular <i>America's Funniest Home Videos</i> actually was... in the 90s. Perhaps just as popular as "home movies" were. But unlike "home movies," apparently America's Funniest Videos (or AFV) never went away... like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEuRWLgWMjo">the original theme song</a>... which is still tattooed into my brain forever. It was stage two of what would eventually become Bob Saget's final form, half way between Danny Tanner and <a href="https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.app.com/amp/7525915">Funny Bob Saget</a>. But apparently, while camcorders and "sending your VHS tape to the PO Box on your screen" don't exist anymore, what does still exist (besides the theme song on rotation in my head) is the hallmark of their video adulation: namely, dudes of all stripes... getting whacked in the nuts.<br />
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Some things never change!<br />
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Yeah, they did other things, and yeah, now we got <i>Tosh.0 </i>and <i>Ridiculousness</i>... but those are explicitly adult shows. With AFV, there was always something so much more charming about the whole family being able to gather together around the TV, prime time ABC, and enjoy a nice wholesome home movie, perhaps... of a dad and son... havin' a catch ... only for dad to end up on the ground, holding his groin. Or brother and sister... havin' a sparring match in the living room... only for brother to end up sterile for life.<br />
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Ahh... the memories.<br />
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So, in the spirit of looking back, the geniuses over at AFV (now sans saxophone intro) compiled 600 groin shots in 600 seconds from across the years of user-generated content submitted to the show, once stored deep in their archives, now unearthed once again as the marvel that it is... proving yet again that... yes, guys getting whacked in the nuts <a href="https://eightyearoldme.blogspot.com/2010/11/man-pain-is-hilarious.html">is still funny</a>.<br />
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And so... without further adieu, AFV brings you, for your viewing enjoyment... "600 Groin Shots in 600 Seconds"...<div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='520' height='300' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dypoRDEM6oIINDZpfAfU4K0aS48IkIQlJceB42dNxw1wBj_kK5XAdScC1qVFbakMx5BqG9SM7kC-NeUQilqhw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How is this show still on the air? Because some things... never get old<span style="text-align: center;">. </span></div>
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</div>Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-90736569687371465732019-10-14T05:19:00.005-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.105-05:00Bushwhacked <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4sUmHrlwrw/XaP06pA_MPI/AAAAAAAAL5o/ETNdhRh2P4Av7nyY218BpBj50YlE6Cd7gCEwYBhgL/s1600/MV5BMjBhNWQ0MDYtN2NhMC00ODYyLTg0ZGYtYWY3MDM0MTdiYTBmXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDEwMjgxNg%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="800" height="134" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4sUmHrlwrw/XaP06pA_MPI/AAAAAAAAL5o/ETNdhRh2P4Av7nyY218BpBj50YlE6Cd7gCEwYBhgL/s200/MV5BMjBhNWQ0MDYtN2NhMC00ODYyLTg0ZGYtYWY3MDM0MTdiYTBmXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDEwMjgxNg%2540%2540._V1_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_2075594450"></span>Why? Because it's time for some good ole Bush. Back in 1995, I was a 9-year-old boy, and two things happened. The all-time best Jumanji movie came out (<i>"What year is it??"</i>), and the best all-time movie about being a Boy Scout came out. What a two-fer! But as Jumanji was a better movie (and as such has gone on to be something of a nostalgia bait-and-switch "franchise" in recent years), the little scouting movie called <i>Bushwhacked</i> has remained, thankfully, largely unscathed. In fact, like Daniel Stern's career afterwards, it seems to have almost disappeared. Unlike his career though, this one is fondly remembered. I am one of those braves, because I happened to be a scout at the time (and proud of it), so you better believe that I blew chunks over this movie. This was like "you know you're a scout if..." kind of humor, and I just sat there the whole time saying "yup!" and eating it up ... most likely along with my boogers.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-01zVjg4zCBQ/XaQQRYQrqgI/AAAAAAAAL6I/9NhkDBwJhWo-SAd77RLEfFekjZeuHnhBgCEwYBhgL/s1600/71Vuoy7KMYL._SY445_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="314" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-01zVjg4zCBQ/XaQQRYQrqgI/AAAAAAAAL6I/9NhkDBwJhWo-SAd77RLEfFekjZeuHnhBgCEwYBhgL/s200/71Vuoy7KMYL._SY445_.jpg" width="140" /></a>Wow mom! A movie about boy scouts! And hey, it's... that guy! Yeah, the dumber half of the "Wet/Sticky Bandits," and he's roughing it with a bunch of scouts while on the run from the law? That's the one to rent! It was a hoot. And yeah, Daniel Stern was just right for this. Jim Carrey might've been able to pull it off, but it would've been too cartoony. Daniel Stern gets in the mugging just fine, but also adds a little touch of risque menace as well, which really sells it. You might say a little of that mugging goes a long way, but you're not the 9-year-old me. Being nine and being a scout, this Daniel Stern vehicle was so far up my alley at the time that it might as well have tried to take me behind a tree at Jamboree! (Yeah, I know, bad joke... but come on! This movie is begging for it now, especially given the baggage of time that the BSA has absorbed.) Seriously, after the BSA molest-athon that was the 80s and 90s... they decided to smarten up and <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2019/02/01/us/boy-scouts-girls-trnd/index.html">let GIRLS join the "Boy Scouts"</a> because apparently there were too many penises and not enough cookies, and too many penises is always a recipe for disaster (And for more cookies? Sounds like a good trade off to me.), and oh yeah, because the Girl Scouts won't mind.... <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/09/us/girl-scouts-sue-boy-scouts.html">*fart noise*</a><br />
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As for the plot, Daniel Stern plays a bumbling loser named Marv... oh wait... wrong movie. He plays a bumbling loser named Max Grabelski, a delivery man who is falsely accused of murder and has to go on the run from the cops. He takes off for the woods to retrieve evidence that will clear his name, but along the way he gets mistaken as some kind of "famous scout leader" Jack "Spider" Erickson, who is expected to take a band of boy scouts on an overnight into the woods. In a monumental feat of incompetence that sadly must've been the norm for the BSA back in the day (given what we know now), the clueless parents send their kids off with Max into the woods on that very overnight (assuming he's the scoutmaster they're expecting), a task which Max (desperate to not be found out) reluctantly accepts. Then, despite his attempts to shake the kids off at every turn, his ad hoc outdoor advice to mask his ruse, and their relentless fawning over him as their scouting messiah, the stage is set for some stupid good ole' hijinks in the woods, and a lot of Daniel Stern's trademarked mugging.<br />
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Seriously though, after an extended opening credits sequence inexplicably spoofing "Saturday Night Fever" (which I never got until now)... as a kid, this movie had me at "Sno Balls". I absolutely loved those things as a kid, and I too would often just jam the entire things in my mouth in one bite. But I digress...<br />
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Early on in the movie, it's revealed that these boys are... kinda lame (<i>"Gordy! You're supposed to get your cooking badge by roasting a porcupine with a magnifying glass!"</i>). Yeah. Like that. In fact, we're intro'ed to them climbing what appears to be a rocky cliff, but a quick camera swirl reveals that they're... just crawling horizontally across their driveway. Haha! So lame! I definitely got it though. It's hard to be a Dork Scout... having the other kids egg you on to "get it together" because you failed to get a certain badge on time like the rest of the troop... etc. That's real shit when you're a scout. But these yahoos are just a goonsquad of overprotected pussies (and coming from Yours Truely, Dorkus Maximus here, that's saying something). So ball-less are they that the fact that a girl is joining their ranks doesn't even seem to faze them. As soon as she jumps in the mini-van with them for the trip, they all kind of just go "nice... finally!" As in, finally they have someone... capable... joining their ranks! Woke? Nope. Just dorks.<br />
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The Girl doesn't even do any classic "told you so'ing" in the movie, and for all in tents and purposes, pretty much becomes "one of the guys" for the rest of the movie, with one exception. It's kind of a missed opportunity for some "girl power!" stuff, or something, but whatever. All the kids start to blend together as the thing goes on anyways.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Tq2ww9yJ0/XaQQRSVqZxI/AAAAAAAAL6E/Sqy0UDbrolQA7UAhLyQHXPd7PpMI8SSgwCEwYBhgL/s1600/MV5BNDUyN2MwNWItZjUyMS00N2Q5LThhMDMtNzhlMzQ0OWIxYjUzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNzU1NzE3NTg%2540._V1_CR0%252C45%252C480%252C270_AL_UX477_CR0%252C0%252C477%252C268_AL_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="477" height="111" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Tq2ww9yJ0/XaQQRSVqZxI/AAAAAAAAL6E/Sqy0UDbrolQA7UAhLyQHXPd7PpMI8SSgwCEwYBhgL/s200/MV5BNDUyN2MwNWItZjUyMS00N2Q5LThhMDMtNzhlMzQ0OWIxYjUzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNzU1NzE3NTg%2540._V1_CR0%252C45%252C480%252C270_AL_UX477_CR0%252C0%252C477%252C268_AL_.jpg" width="200" /></a>Like Ace Ventura movies, do yourself a favor and don't even worry about the plot, or the characters. This movie is a hijinks check sheet. Bear chase scene? Check! Rickety rope bridge scene? Check! Waterfall action scene? Check! Cliff climbing scene? Check! Tree climbing scene? Check! Sexual innuendo scene? Check! Beehive sting scene? Check! Peeing in the woods scene? Check! Inconceivably stupid schmaltzy ending? Check! Fart jokes? Check! I'm sure there's a nut shot in there somewhere too. And this even extends to the characters. The kids are your basic checklist as well. You got your foul-mouthed cool rebel kid (with backwards hat of course), your Scout-Code-spouting dork virgin (wearing glasses of course), your wide-eyed tenderfoot, your lardbutt (who is fat), and your girl (who is a girl). All they needed was Token Black to complete the checklist. And at first, while they still think this guy is their actual scoutmaster, they do seem to be nothing more than a bunch of mindless idiots, gleefully following this random werido around while marching along and chanting songs their moms wrote for them:<br />
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<i>"We're Troop 12, the scouts' top crew!</i><br />
<i>We're honest, kind, and real fun, too!</i><br />
<i>We yell hurrah, we yell hooray!</i><br />
<i>We run and dance and sing and play!</i><br />
<i>We do good deeds, we help our friends..."</i><br />
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Max: "Alright! Alright!! Knock it off!! What is that?? We run and dance and sing and PLAY?" Kid: "My mom kinda wrote the words...." Max: "Well they suck! OK?!"<br />
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This really hits home. Every Cub Scout and Boy Scout thing I was involved in was overwhelmingly run by moms... and you know... there was a lot of lame, cissy, ball-less, soulless, bubble-wrapped, very un-boyish stuff they'd often have us do... clearly because all our moms were misandrists who wished we were girls instead! (Hi mom!) But yeah, I could totally relate to their sorry plight. And maybe, just maybe, a guy like Max is someone these sheltered brats need to show 'em the real ropes, right? Well, soon enough the kids start to suspect that this guy isn't their real scoutmaster, because believe it or not, he doesn't know a spruce from a deuce, and he chain smokes like a chimney (seriously guy, forest fires are no laughing matter).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Please don't kill us Mad Max!"</td></tr>
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Well, once the reality of their actual kidnapping becomes clear back on the ground (the news even nicknames him "Mad Max Grabelski"), the kids find out over a makeshift radio that they are indeed THE kids who were kidnapped! And as the authorities are called in, the kids end up getting trailed by their actual scoutmaster, a man they know as "Spider" ...a gung-ho scouting-marine who raw-dog shaves with a friggin' machete from the front of his military-grade Jeep (awww yeah, hoo-rah... yay masculinity!), and a crooked cop who turns out to be in on the money laundering scam that framed Max to begin with. The kids attempt smoke signals in the hopes of a rescue, but it doesn't go well. The real "Spider" does indeed see them, but they spell out "BELP! BELP!" ... (Kids: <i>"No! It's two long, two short!" "Well what am I supposed to do? Cross that letter out??"</i>). Then things get pretty dark as the kids even try to poison their kidnapper by drugging his canteen with their medications... but hilarity and body horror ensues instead.<br />
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Actually, it's refreshing how quickly the scouts go from blissful ignorance to "holy shit, this guy is a fugitive and we need help" to "please don't kill us Mad Max!!" ...all on the way towards Max's hamfisted personal redemption and the kids' inevitable Stockholm's syndrome. The movie actually seems like it's setting up to be a black comedy, but then we get to the, um, bonding. "Hey guys, maybe this guy isn't so bad after all..." definitely sets in, as they go from misadventure to misadventure in the woods, to which Max bumbles his way each time towards the Herculean task of ensuring their safety, proving his innocence, and promoting the growth of their self confidence... and balls... (including the girl)... You know, basically doing what scouting was supposed to be doing all along...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be Prepared.</td></tr>
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"I'm Superstud!" ... is what Max gets the frightened dork scout to say to coax him across the rickety rope bridge while the kid's shitting himself in fear. Indeed, it's something I probably said once or twice to coax myself to jump off a diving board or ride a chairlift. It's a charming scene for sure about learning courage, but does saying that work? Probably not as much as chanting "I have a big penis"... but I guess they had to somehow make this PG. As a dork myself, I too know the importance of lying to yourself. (Sorry kid.) And indeed, Max's good ole fashioned "fireside sex talk" with the kiddies should also be required viewing by all kids due to its hilarity and its accuracy, both in its eye-opening Barbie-Ken doll orgasmic cacophony (thanks Girl), and its aftermath (<i>"And then the man smokes a cigarette, watches a little Leno, and goes to sleep..."</i>). Or how about the girl's bra-slingshot?! And they said girls can't be good scouts! <i>"Be prepared"</i> I always say!<br />
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Plus, this great lecture on the (very real) importance of pine cones, by Dork Kid... with associated shenanigans:<br />
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/o6U5RlrRbFs" title="YouTube video player" width="540"></iframe>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I6DWcQhA1Xg/XaP06MxVxiI/AAAAAAAAL5w/0ckZE5uWtCAVOqWZBnlFr2cs0w36qEzRACEwYBhgL/s1600/1000691045.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I6DWcQhA1Xg/XaP06MxVxiI/AAAAAAAAL5w/0ckZE5uWtCAVOqWZBnlFr2cs0w36qEzRACEwYBhgL/s1600/1000691045.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1024" height="131" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I6DWcQhA1Xg/XaP06MxVxiI/AAAAAAAAL5w/0ckZE5uWtCAVOqWZBnlFr2cs0w36qEzRACEwYBhgL/s200/1000691045.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>Great stuff, right? Well, there's more. How about the cliff climbing scene, which truly becomes death defying in the most Boy Scout way possible ("Dude, did you just rip one?" "No." "Yes, you did! You stink! Hey I can't climb behind this guy anymore!" "Don't make me climb down there guys!"). Haha! Seriously kid, you don't fart while scaling a cliff one by one in a line. That's in the manual. Or how about the hilarious scene where dork kid stops to assure Max (now suspended over a chasm as the scouts crawl across his back) that he should be able to "hold out" for 3 more minutes, to which Max strains in reply: "good... then TAKE YOUR TIME!"... Or what about the scene of Max coming to the rescue of... Other Kid... (Gordy) dangling off the edge of a cliff by a cracking pine tree ("I'm just a delivery guy!!"). Or heck, even as Max is trying to untie Gordy's mother later on, who had been tied up by the bad guys (Max: "What kind of knot is this??" Man's voice: "It's a clove hitch..." Max: "Thank you!" Bad Guy: "I learned it in the scouts..."). Hahahaha!</div>
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(Btw, that def wasn't a clove hitch... just sayin'...)<br />
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And of course, how could the 9-year-old me not revel in the poetry on display:<br />
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<i>Shake your lizard, let it drain!</i></div>
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<i>Move your hips and spell your name!</i></div>
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<i>Send it straight and send it hard!</i></div>
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<i>Now a sword-fight! Go! En guard! </i></div>
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<i>Eat your veggies, eat your starches,</i></div>
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<i>Lean back boys! Golden arches! </i></div>
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Didn't I say this was an accurate portrayal of being in the Boy Scouts? That's heartwarming stuff right there. As well as the punchline: <i>"Hey Spider, we just pissed on some guys!"</i><br />
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It's funny... because it's real. <br />
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Anyways, enough fun stuff. Back to the "plot." Spoilers, but after some standoffs and action scenes, and with the eventual help of their actual scoutmaster (who had been handcuffed around a... very tall tree... and somehow manages to "Marine" his way up and over it in the course of a night!!), Max is able to clear his name, get on all the good guys' good graces, and walk free, despite all the obvious. But even more importantly (now that we're all invested as an audience), having decided to protect these kids from the real bad guys who are just inexplicably evil suddenly (<i>"and after you're done killing him, kill the kids!"</i>), he's finally able to prove, to himself, that he's maybe not so much a "loser" after all. Aww shucks, right? And yeah, I guess he... has some kind of impact on the kids to "toughen them up" and make "real men" (and "woman") out of them from their sheltered, millennial, 90s, helicopter parent'ed lives... which I assume is good. This is enough of a stretch, but then the clincher. For having survived an overnight with this would-be fugitive wingnut, the kids get promoted to "First Class Eagle" (which is BULLSHIT AND WOULD NEVER HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE, and I KNEW THAT EVEN AS A KID!!)... And then, even more shockingly, this guy... despite the fact that he should be in jail even if he was innocent of murdering the guy... gets appointed as their new scoutmaster... "poof" ... just like that... and then gets "orders" to take them ALL on an overnight to Yosemite... and you just gotta say... NO WONDER THE SCOUTS GOT SUED SO MUCH!<br />
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I mean, sure, he saved their lives, but he also almost got them all killed... ah, whatever. The movie's over.<br />
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Obviously it's played for laughs, but it's the kind of non-sequitur ending you're not even sure is real because it's just soooo over the top schmaltzy that even me, as DUMB as I was as a kid, knew this would NEVER HAPPEN and that this guy would be in JAIL for this shit.<br />
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But then again, it was the Boy Scouts, and it was the 90s...<br />
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Anyways... This was a fun movie. And a great thesis for why, yeah, boys should never be allowed to join the Girl Scouts...<br />
<pre style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; left: -99999px; position: absolute; text-align: center;">Shake your lizard. Let it drain!
Move your hips and spell your name!
Send it straight and send it hard.,
Now a sword fight. Go! En garde!
Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=bushwhacked</pre>
<pre style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; left: -99999px; position: absolute; text-align: center;">Shake your lizard. Let it drain!
Move your hips and spell your name!
Send it straight and send it hard.,
Now a sword fight. Go! En garde!
Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=bushwhacked</pre>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-8149107054606395262019-07-10T21:33:00.001-04:002023-10-07T13:28:16.660-04:0090s Facts of Life that Are No MoreSometimes you'll come across something that you know used to be just a fact of life but now seems like a remnant from another world. All of the following are 90s facts of life that are no more, officially, for better or worse.<br />
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<b>Fuzzy toilets.</b> (Trigger warning! People who were traumatized by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjTd2nLDr9Y"><i>Look Who's Talking</i></a> may need to skip this) Remember how toilets used to be fuzzy? At some point they were all shaved, which was probably for the best, seeing as toilet rugs' only purpose was to get wet and soiled. Especially between me and my brother! Our war on toilets saw no end and many deaths! I mean, what was the point of putting the plush "carpet" on the toilet lid? Just in case you want to be comfortable while you're sitting there getting a splinter taken out or a Bandaid put on? And then how are you supposed to use the shelf in back if it's all fluffed out? At least they could've put the plush carpet on the toilet SEAT... you know, just for comfort, but no. That would've made too much sense. Present status: non-existent.<br />
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<b>Satellite-dish chairs?</b> (Or whatever they were called.) How about these sliding, two-piece, kiddie Venus fly traps? So inviting, but when you try to climb in, the whole thing shifts and dumps you out. But if you do succeed at scaling in, holding onto the rim without pinching your fingers as the thing shifts violently beneath your weight, you'll probably end up falling into its pillowy bowl center, never to be seen again. But, at least it was great to be able to trap siblings underneath and then go and sit on top. And then once you were in, this thing was your throne. If you did succeed at getting into it, you're probably still there as you read this. Just stay absolutely still... it can't know you're sitting in it if you don't move! Present status: non-existent.<br />
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<b>Fake plants a la mode!</b> As long as they're not real. I enjoy plants. I enjoy the free oxygen. I even had a pet cactus as a kid. It died because I over-watered it. What I don't enjoy about plants? Treating them as though they were living things. I loved the rain forest as a kid, and fake plants were a way to bring the biome... home, although almost exclusively reduced to the "palm tree and fern" variety. Remember the coconut fibers or wood chips they used to be potted in? I must have stole a hundred of them from the doctor's office. Present status: everywhere dead malls can be found... or forever existing in a landfill somewhere. What's the difference anyways. I mean, <i>"you got plants in this building... you pick them because they look good... but these are aggressive living things and they will defend themselves... violently if necessary."</i> --Dr. Ellie Sattler, Paleobotanist<br />
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<b>"Entertainment centers"</b> that looked like something out of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Knobs and blinking lights everywhere. I seriously think HAL 9000 was just a JVC VHS sitting on top of a silver stereo. Want to have some 90s kid fun? Press random buttons, and see what happens! I suppose that was the 80-90s equivalent of the Ipad. Want to watch a movie? Well, you gotta get a scientist or tech support to figure it all out, all for the tape to jam, the tracking to be off, or for it to be on the wrong channel anyways. "I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that." Besides, the old VCR ports didn't play cookies all that good. Present status: non-existent.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slzDGIcSX18/XPRD3rbujiI/AAAAAAAALK4/PSIEyKIuq3oZu0NcJJ6513WiqL1yuXsLgCLcBGAs/s1600/torchfloorlamp.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="228" data-original-width="221" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-slzDGIcSX18/XPRD3rbujiI/AAAAAAAALK4/PSIEyKIuq3oZu0NcJJ6513WiqL1yuXsLgCLcBGAs/s200/torchfloorlamp.jpg" width="193" /></a><b>Torch floor lamps, or just... floor lamps in general.</b> Present status: confined to therapy waiting rooms. I would know. Moving on.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P7SdTK2FoBE/XPRDLde72cI/AAAAAAAALK0/1juVmRpvFLkS_WYj9kI7XsLiUTA2t5T_wCLcBGAs/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P7SdTK2FoBE/XPRDLde72cI/AAAAAAAALK0/1juVmRpvFLkS_WYj9kI7XsLiUTA2t5T_wCLcBGAs/s200/maxresdefault.jpg" width="200" /></a><b>Wood-paneled ceiling fans.</b> They were literally in every house. Now they just look scary-looking. They looked like mosquitoes or giant spiders just perched up on the ceiling. They never actually cooled the room down, but they certainly confused people about just what string to pull to get the lights and/or the fan. They made nap time entertaining at my babysitter's place. Present status: quarantined to mobile homes and your aunt's house.<br />
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Right now there is a plot to cover up the very existence of <b>indoor wicker furniture</b>. Present status: "never existed, your memories are false! --CIA"<br />
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And John Hughes movies.<br />
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Enough said.<br />Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-33415053297095955682019-05-03T00:39:00.001-04:002019-09-05T02:09:37.735-04:00Mid90s Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J6XhyeXNtNk/XMuMu_q5EvI/AAAAAAAALFA/KZAd1jaZKWwoFyssjyR8DGcP5vc3YFeaQCLcBGAs/s1600/Mid90s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="825" height="170" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J6XhyeXNtNk/XMuMu_q5EvI/AAAAAAAALFA/KZAd1jaZKWwoFyssjyR8DGcP5vc3YFeaQCLcBGAs/s200/Mid90s.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Whodah thought Jonah Hill had it in him? Watching Mid90s recently (because let's face it, I kinda had to eventually) was downright painful, harkening back to a simpler time of kid cruelty... big brother asswipes, good friends turned bitter enemies over something as trivial as some other kid giving you mad props, trying to be "cool" in the eyes of the world at the cost of your bodily and spiritual integrity... and Nintendo Game Boys. (<i>Oh I 'member Game Boys! They were fantastic!</i>) Yeah this movie was painful to watch, like, "hockey puck to the nuts" painful, but only because it was so f'ing TRUE. (And not in the "wazzzuuuup?" kind of way). It's chock full of the kind of inevitable childhood foibles and follies you've repressed that probably traumatized you, which makes it real, and real good emotive stuff. So along with the references and callbacks to that glazed-over, fondly "membered" 90s of orange-splat Nickelodeon and Blast-Processed Genesis/SNES, this movie was painful to watch because while watching it, in ways only someone who has been a kid trying to prove himself can attest, all I could think was "yeah... I remember that."<br />
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Kids are f-ing cruel, and this story doesn't pull any punches. In fact, the opening shot involves this kid getting jacked in his home by his older brother. "Ooof!" And so we follow this kid from LA in the year 1995, a year I mostly remember for being the year Jumanji came out (mainly because the girl said it was 1995 in the movie... "what year is it??" indeed). His name's Stevie and he's about 12 or so, and absolutely caught up in that whole urban, street-craze rough skate culture right at the time when it was at its <i>Road Rash</i>, classic Tony Hawk zenith. Of course he and his gang dream of one day "going pro," but are usually found nursing their wounds. BUTT... this ain't no throwback "RADICAL!" or "Cowabunga" "skater" flick with Dom Deluise voice acting a talking magical skateboard (<i>Skateboard Kid </i>anyone?)... this is a movie about the very demographic those 90s kid movie cash grabs were ostensibly "made for." Dumb boys with boners for ex-celennnnt tricks and gnarly wipe outs! Wasted in the x-TREME man! Yeah... These adolescents are more human and down to Earth than typical movie skater boys, and more like the genuine article than perhaps any other depiction of them thus far, realistic and relateable, but also deeply flawed and vulnerable, desperate for something to cling to and protect them... but still pretty dumb.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gT7JW6_lwZo/XMuq3nE0XVI/AAAAAAAALFg/SVetEFv7Qdg3sy3pnzEFZsIEAjVw5NxLwCEwYBhgL/s1600/Screen-Shot-2018-09-25-at-8.13.59-AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="779" height="118" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gT7JW6_lwZo/XMuq3nE0XVI/AAAAAAAALFg/SVetEFv7Qdg3sy3pnzEFZsIEAjVw5NxLwCEwYBhgL/s200/Screen-Shot-2018-09-25-at-8.13.59-AM.png" width="200" /></a>Like most boys, Stevie's life is simple: wake up, get your ass beat by your OJ-chugging, ganja'ed out, butthead big brother (the kind who probably has another daddy, farts in your face, and tells you his penis is bigger than yours on the reg but you still kinda look up to him for it anyway), get bitched out in public by your deadbeat single mom (who was obviously date-raped at some point in her past and you know it, and is probably yelling at you to get to school because she doesn't know it's the weekend), ditch school anyway (because it's not the weekend), yell racial and homophobic slurs at cops, get called a "faggot" by your "friends" for not executing a perfect Ollie while holding an M15 for street cred and impregnating and subsequently slapping the nearest group of high-skirted, halter-topped hos in the inevitable vicinity... spend time at a skateboard shop just scoping out the scene and getting called a "poser" for wearing a hat the wrong way, then come home, get bitched at by your mom again for being late and how "she doesn't know you anymore," and then get your nightly pummeling in the nuts by big bro who's calling you a homophobic slur again for drinking his prized OJ (and for having a smaller penis). All that, and yeah, Game Boys were a thing. <i>'Member Game Boys?!</i> Whhhoaaaa! It really is the story of every 90s kid!<br />
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Given all this, you can start to understand why skateboarding is so important to Stevie, and why trying to find purpose and connection with other skaters in the pecker-order of that crowd may just be his only shot at escaping his own "90s kid!!" experience. (If only we all had been so lucky.)<br />
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In any other Jonah Hill movie, this kid and his group of friends (which probably would've included Jonah Hill, and probably did behind the scenes) would've just been a bunch of dimwitted, pussy-obsessed, stoner, loser skaters, ditching school, cracking gay jokes, getting stoned, getting drunk, and striking out at gettin' some. But this movie shows us this typical "goon squad" in a bit more of a, well, human light, doing all of the above, but doing it like actual teenage boys do it. There's Reuben, who is the youngest (until Stevie enters and trumps him in the hierarchy). There's Ray and Fuckshit, who are the oldest in the group and therefore the most radical skaters this side of the Rockies (and I mean, everything east of the Rockies) and so naturally pretty much rule Reuben and Stevie's worlds with both their stoner wisdom and headcracking stunts, plus the presumed mondo-ness of their genitalia. Then there's Fourth Grade, the quiet type who films stuff, and not on his phone. No. He uses actual "film."<br />
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In all their bone-headed and yet charming exploits, the film does a good job of what it's like to grow up as a dude within that urban-type environment and at that particular time in kid culture, with all it's pros and cons on display and not a hint of judgement or commentary attached to it. So allow me to comment on it. (Spoilers be here!)<br />
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Stevie struggles to be accepted by his raggedy skater clique, even spending all kinds of money to pimp out his skateboard with something he thought was so cool until a "cooler" kid than him, Reuben, informs him that what he thought was cool was actually lame, and he would know, because he's cool and his skateboard is so much cooler, obviously (damn, that's pretty sound kid logic right there). Stevie struggles to make any name for himself he can with these guys and you really believe he would literally do anything, ANYTHING, no matter how low, criminal, self-destructive, or even whorish or dehumanizing, to get so much as a Y-shaka sign from any of them (damn millennials, always thinking they're entitled to being accepted among the cool kids). This is until he stages a concussion for himself by skating off a roof, landing several feet down onto a table, no helmet. While he's sitting there bleeding from his brain, his chosen set of dudes understandably welcomes him into the fold as one of the gang and confer on him that much-needed "cool" status that every 90s boy needed to survive. But his rapid ascension in the ranks also raises the ire of his one-time best friend Reuben (who was only his friend as long as he could lord his own street cred over Stevie's bushy head), since now Reuben is the one all the guys are cutting down to size and calling a "faggot." Loyalties rapidly shift, as even Stevie now partakes in the denunciation of Reuben and his very status as a male. Does this shit ring a bell? Sounds like the 90s childhood I remember!<br />
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Stevie's rise to the top only gets all the more cemented among his peers the night he's invited to a teen party to get wasted with the gang (again, sounds like a dream come true). While at the party, he awkwardly fumbles his way through a conversation with a halter-topped teen girl who is very much his senior, meanwhile trying to act suave while drunk and understandably hiding his erection at the very idea that a chick that hot would even be acknowledging his pubescent existence (the way I would've at that age... or even now). But unlike any chick I've ever embarrassed myself in front of, this one decides that it's time enough for our little boy Stevie to become a man and give him what every boy his age could only dream of getting from someone like her. So she drags him into a back room where she totally... yeah... despite being quite a few years older. (And as South Park so eloquently put it... <i>"Nice..."</i>) Emerging entranced and euphoric from that, presumably a full minute later (he's a pubescent boy and she was hot, come on, it couldn't haven taken long), he gets the admiration and commendation of his whole gang who know he just totally scored. His "man card" is officially in the mail. Masculinity unlocked, amiright?<br />
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This newfound confidence though brings with it troubles at home. Sure, he now has the cajones to stand up to his big brother and even steal his OJ, but that only means he gets his ass whooped within a pinch of his life even harder because now his brother is "concerned" about him. Suddenly, even his brother is starting to think he's hanging out with the wrong crowd (and that's saying something), but only because beating his ass took more effort this time than it should've. But what's worse, he gets chewed out by his bitch mom and is forbade to converse with any of them at the skateboard shop. But come on... this "bad crowd" got him status and got him laid within the course of a few WEEKS! What has his mother or brother ever done for him? And so, the final act is set up for a confrontation between the forces of evil at home dragging him down into unhinged mediocrity with them, and the forces of good out on the streets who are giving him purpose, connection, camraderie, and getting him laid with smokin' older chicks (who also literally be smokin').<br />
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<i>Nice...</i><br />
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All in all, it's everyboy's tale (well, except with the actually having sex part), with a bit more period-specific homophobia thrown in. Why it's called Mid90s, why it even really needs to be set in the 90s, other than for possible Jonah Hill autobiographical cues, is kind of a mystery to me, but its setting and the promise of getting to see the year 1995 depicted in all its glory certainly got me to give it a view. Despite all the heavy stuff, it's actually still a fun romp. Its nostalgia is not a punch to the gut like other recent movies (Captain Marvel, I'm looking at you!). No lingering shots of "Blockbuster Video"... no stupid references to Furbies or Gel Pens or Dial Up Modems whatevers. It's nostalgia is more of a painful reminder of just how damn hard it is to be a kid, and why, when you were one, you wanted to grow up and not be one so damn bad! Relateable much?Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-34287454942603660662019-04-18T18:48:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.092-05:00You On Kazoo!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some things you get nostalgic about are things you were lucky never to have seen when you were a kid, but you know exactly what it is when you see it because there was so much like it back in the day. And there was. The amount of weird direct-to-video VHS tapes that were pumped out in the 80s and 90s on every conceivable (and inconceivable) topic in existence can not be overstated. At a time before smart phones, anything you could put in a VCR was a parent's best friend to shut us up for a half hour... and they sold very well, although the quality of content is now... well, you know... the stuff that memes are made of. </div>
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At first all I knew about the "Kazoo kid" was that he was a 90s kid meme goldmine. All I can say is, when I first saw "You On Kazoo" it was a few years ago on Youtube, and it genuinely, legitimately, horrified me. Not only did this kid look and behave pretty much like the 8-year-old me (as cringey as that is by itself), but I actually began getting more and more unnerved as the minutes wore on, and had to shut it off, convinced that there is real evil in this world and that it will possess you if you let it. To this day I haven't been able to watch the whole thing, plus some of this kid's other direct-to-video works which are just as terrifying, without getting legitimately, genuninely, creeped-the-fuck out... </div>
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So here you go! Just don't look him in the eyes. You've been warned. </div>
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So just what from the depths of hell ARE you watching? Well, what if I told you that everyone involved in the production of these videos was found ritualistically sacrificed in that very same field? Hmm? Well, then I'd be lying to you because that didn't happen, but after watching this, you'd believe it, right? And what if I told you you'd be next? You can thank me later. Seriously... I just keep waiting for the kid to go, "seven days..." </div>
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Now I'm sure there's a perfectly silly and fun dorky kid cash-grab VHS rationale behind all of this cringe and genuine horror, and yeah, maybe the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzkIboOqN8Q">guy who played "the Kazoo kid"</a> or "Brett" as he calls himself (Brett Ambler) came out in recent years to tell the story of just how these direct-to-VHS 1989 creepypastas came to be. And yeah, it's nice to know he's doing alright and proud of his work when he was an 8-year-old dork himself, but still...</div>
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Sometimes you just have to get the spirit to come out... partner...</div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-20935074146704473862015-08-15T01:58:00.002-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.089-05:00Bye Bye RadioShack <div style="text-align: right;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wired.com/2015/02/dear-radioshack-adored-love-wired/">RadioShack circa 1993</a></td></tr>
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So as many of my fellow dorks are aware, RadioShack is no more. All the rest of you are obviously the reason (where the heck were you?). Yes, while it's true that they are now owned by a <a href="http://www.wsj.com/articles/radioshack-rescue-deal-clears-bankruptcy-court-1427830159">random wireless carrier</a> and function as spaces to sell Sprint products, the nostalgic RadioShack of the past is no more. For those who don't know though, RadioShack was like... <i>the</i> number one place to buy capacitors, resistors, dual axis accelerometers, and other thingamagidgets Scotty needed to repair the Enterprise. Trust me. This is a big deal for DIY people. Oh yeah, you could also buy a wide variety of batteries (and have them shipped to your house), antennas, small televisions, remote controls, sound systems, electronic gadgets and assorted do-dads, cameras, short wave radios, 150-in-One kits, and of course, RC TOYS! RadioShack was amazing back in the day and there was no other store quite like it.<br />
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Seriously, in the age before plastic touch-screen rectangles ruled the universe, anything "tech toy" usually came on four wheels or two copter blades, and sometimes both. RadioShack was the Disney Land of the local mall to the uber dorks in training, the one place I'd actually beg to be taken to, and I have vivid memories of going in with my folks just to play with all the RC cars they actually <i>let</i> the kids play with. Some of them later mysteriously made their way under a few Christmas trees even (funny how that happens). Now I don't know if it was common practice or not, but I remember almost every toy in the store being "try before you buy." I of course was also very young at the time and maybe my imagination is just acting up, but I remember actually getting a hold on the RC cars and driving them around the store, torturing the customers. I remember being told not to drive them outside the front of the store, although I certainly did try it. In fact, I seem to remember them not being <i>able</i> to be driven outside the store. They had some kind of force-field on the doors or something. <br />
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RadioShack indeed had a good run. They started out in the 1920s selling radio equipment. They sent around mail-order catalogs to enthusiasts of the new technology before they began actually manufacturing their own. They set up their first stores to sell their own radio products before they were bought by the Tandy Corporation, and that's when they really took off. People forget that they were one of the major retailers of computers in the 1980's and did a lot through their print advertising in mainstreaming the sale of computers to the average public. People way before my time know them for their TRS-80 computer, which actually came pre-assembled and not in the form of a "kit" (something rare for the time). In the long run, Tandy couldn't compete with IBM and they began restructuring. In the 90s, they shifted more toward retailing consumer electronics. They sold off their computer manufacturing and cut down their product line. Since then they've been trying to compete in the cellular and smartphone market, but obviously not doing so well at it.<br />
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I distinctly remember having one of these RadioShack 4x4 Off-Roaders my brother and I probably ended up driving down the stairs one too many times. In any case, it was definitely a truck and it was definitely blue, and definitely had little lights on the top and a strong front grill that probably protected it for at least twenty minutes of slamming into the kitchen chairs.<br />
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In the end, it seems even RadioShack knew their glory days were behind them when in 2014 they played up their own nostalgic image in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUCHy5y23nI">this Superbowl ad</a> where an innocent storefront gets ransacked by an army of 80s pop culture. Noticeable in the backgrounds are the "VCR" and "Boom Box" sections, perpetuating the joke of their retro-ness. Now as a loyal RadioShack consumer through the years (particularly around the holidays) I couldn't be more upset by this twist of fate for this part of my childhood. How will I go on without my <a href="http://siliconangle.com/blog/2015/02/06/memories-of-a-radio-shack-addict/">"Battery of the Month Club" membership</a>? But as a lifelong dork I am probably more upset about just where I'm going to go for capacitors. Seriously, the LED display went on my stereo and where was I going to go to DIY the thing back to working order? BEST BUY? Hah! In other recent news, the stereo I tried to DIY the display back to working order on is now RIP completely. How poetic. <br />
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RIP RadioShackMarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-29551944192172836742015-02-05T20:02:00.000-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.090-05:00"I'm a Cartoon!" (The Pagemaster) <div style="text-align: justify;">
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Here's one of the many facts of my life some people I know will never fail to let me live down... the fact that I looked like the kid in <i>The Pagemaster </i>(the animated one). I remember they first played <i>The Pagemaster</i> for us in "library class" (because in elementary school, even just the name of a room could be a whole class). They rolled out the big four-wheeled cart on the rug and popped in a VHS that blazed somewhere on the screen and probably fuzzed out the speakers ("all about that bass, no treble" yes) always set to max for some reason. After probably four minutes adjusting the tracking came this bland movie called "<i>The Pagemaster</i>." This was probably around 1995 or so because for some reason I had never heard of it before then, but what did I care? "Yay, no work for the next hour."</div>
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I suppose they put it on in "library class" because it's book-related (which now makes me angry there was no "cafeteria class" or "bathroom class" because just imagine the possibilities!). Books were cool until this movie raped them. In any case, the moment Mac gets... mac-n-cheesed... into the fantasy stuff, I started noticing something. It was just a funny feeling. There I was sitting on the floor (the <a href="http://eightyearoldme.blogspot.com/2011/10/school-floor-time-fart.html">floor was our chair</a> in this school) with my trademarked big round glasses hanging off my face and my dorky dorkatron-ness, and ... quite frankly I didn't see the resemblance at the time. I guess there was a time when I still saw myself as Alan Grant or Indiana Jones. Nope! Turns out I was just the Page Master dork. </div>
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Now I'm not claiming to be Macaulay Culkin, but the resemblance between the 8yo Me and the cartoonized version of Big Mac is downright uncanny. Judge for yourself. My friends certainly did! So, given this coincidence, what did I think of the movie? It was an hour time waster during a slow school day. I'm sure all the teachers got paid. </div>
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Oh yeah, but for those of you asleep in the 90s, the <i>Pagemaster</i> was actually totally awesome and completely not lame, but don't go and watch the movie for yourself or else the movie may prove me wrong. I know the <a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/2Ig3NxPP4ro/movieposter.jpg?v=52034f51"><b>current box art </b></a>makes the movie look like a Harry Potter clone to get you to pick it up by mistake when you're waiting at the K-Mart checkout, but do yourself a favor and just don't. That goes for Harry Potter as well, which totally ripped this off. Granted, at least the title "Pagemaster" sounds a little bit more badass than your average My Little Pony villain. That should be say something. (And not just that Rainbow Dash is my favorite). </div>
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Basically the plot of the Pagemaster, for all it's cracked up to be, features a worry-wart of a dork played by Mac-Attack himself, in the flesh (though not for long). His father is upset about his son's sissyness and tries to kill him with hammers and nails and the 10 foot heights of a treehouse. So he sends the kid out to get nails. Along the way, our hero seeks refuge in a library because facing a light rain is apparently far more frightening than being kidnapped by Christopher Lloyd. That's right. Angels in the Outfield proceeds to turn Mac into a cartoon because he's "in need of a fantasy." It was at this point the movie does its best to make sure no kid will ever want to read <i>Treasure Island</i>, <i>Gulliver's Travels</i>, <i>Jekyll and Hyde</i>, and <i>Moby Dick</i> (although we all got a laugh out of that one). How do I know? Because I certainly never read any of those books (although I'm thinking of giving a second look at that <i>Moby</i> one). Booko-pomorphic cereal mascots voiced by Star Trek actors spouting bad puns and one liners is about all I know about literature now. Thanks movie. </div>
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And so they go on adventures and face down various hi-jinks as they Dragons-Lair Don Bluth into a coma (or into a courthouse at least). In the end the kid fights a dragon, which was pretty badass... at least at first. That is, it was cool until I... I mean, Mac, got eaten in one fire-breath belch-inducing chomp. "I'm not scared of you!" he says. Oh the irony. The one time in his life he had a right to be ball-less. Oh well. He obviously wasn't going to breed anyway...<br />
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Oh wait. In the end, the Pagemaster shows up and Deus-Ex-Machinas Mac back into the real world, teaching him the valuable lesson of facing fears and avoiding Christopher Lloyd and libraries like herpes. The kid returns to the real world without nails. So what was this movie really getting across then? It seems obvious. Never send a guy out to get anything hardware related. This is truth. We go out for nails, we end up lost in a fantasy world, get hung up with pirates, confronted by dragons, learn about our fears, and then always seem to return home with the 12-Amp Sawzall Reciprocating Saw with the 16 blade kit. And no nails. </div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-42034560415908094302014-07-16T02:32:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.094-05:00Playskool Tape Recorder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fake radio shows. News and weather. Traffic reports. Sticking the end of the microphone in your mouth and making noises. Even pirated music! All that was great, but seriously... there was never a device better suited to record your burps and farts for posterity.<br />
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Needless to say, I had one.Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-24789463079640520792014-01-25T13:46:00.002-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.090-05:00Hunting the Wumpus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For those who aren't in the extreme know, the TI-994a was one of the early "personal computer devices" of the 80's and was manufactured by the same people who probably made your high school calculator with all the fancy functions. I say all this in the hopes that 99% of the reading public has probably tuned out by now, so I address the rest just to the brave souls who have a special affinity from their childhood to this ancient device. The TI-994a came with an array of games that my brother and I used to while away the hours with in those early, simple years of ours, and one of our all time favorites among the <i>Burger Times </i>and <i>Parsecs </i>was this little obscure title called <i>Hunt the Wumpus</i>.<br />
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<i>Hunt the Wumpus</i> was originally a text-based game going back to the stone age, but the TI-994a had a colorful version of it, designed to bring out our collective caveman instincts. What exactly was a wumpus? It was essentially a giant mouth with legs that liked to lurk in the swamps (not unlike my ex-girlfriend), and you had to hunt it down. You basically started out on a white field and as you moved around the screen, you'd uncover a maze of pathways through the swamps tracking the near-presence of the beast who seemed to like to leave behind giant red circles (also not unlike...). Watch out though, or you could fall into the swamp. Along the way you'd also run into these bat-like creatures who'd I guess pick you up and drop you in random places--usually right into the spot where the wumpus was!<br />
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The object of the game was to make your way around in the maze, watch out for the green circles (that told you of the presence of swamps), the red circles (that told you the wumpus was nearby), and fire an arrow in the direction where you thought the wumpus might be based on the trail of his "residue" (I suppose). If he was there, then you won the game. If he wasn't and you fired an arrow, then no matter where he was on the field, he'd kill you. His big teeth would come down on the screen to the tune of Chopin's Funeral March (dun-dun-da-dun...etc) and your goose was cooked (your ASS being the goose of course, and served back to you roasted and glazed). If you fell into the swamp, you'd see a green screen where your little guy plunges into a watery death to the tune of "running your hands down the keyboard."<br />
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This game was endlessly entertaining as we fought over turns to hunt down the elusive beast, and the music played a big part in its humorous effect on us. Sometimes just seeing those big teeth come down on the screen and his grinning face was worth getting killed for and that would always crack us up. The game also had a hard mode where the maze wouldn't reveal itself as you walked around on it, but we didn't do that one very much.<br />
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It was more funner than <i>Minesweeper</i>. There, I said it.Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-59369887887593291792013-12-12T19:58:00.001-05:002023-12-19T18:17:24.098-05:00Lego Pirates Ships<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the frustrating things about Lego was the choices! We'd get to the Lego aisle and be instantly overwhelmed, wanting it all and coming away with one, but knowing all the while that whatever we came away with wouldn't disappoint, even if it was your standard <a href="http://www.brickset.com/detail/?Set=6234-1">Renegade's Raft</a> or <a href="http://www.brickset.com/detail/?Set=1492-1">Battle Cove</a> (both of which I know we had). Every little piece added to the Legoland mythos we were slowly building up in the bedroom. The Lego Pirates were always my favorite Lego system because they had the coolest boats and I was really into boats. Introduced in 1989, the Lego <i>Black Seas Baracuda</i> (pictured) had to be one of the classiest Lego products ever assembled, with its striking red-striped sails and stern-side cabin (complete with little windows), raft, real-working pulley and anchor system, plank (as in, "walk the plank!"), and two canon ports, it really just doesn't get any more cool from Lego (and that's saying a lot).<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cggvwuxTOQ0/UqpHlzAf5OI/AAAAAAAAETU/JN52OhfslkE/s1600/6286-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cggvwuxTOQ0/UqpHlzAf5OI/AAAAAAAAETU/JN52OhfslkE/s320/6286-1.jpg" height="140" width="200" /></a>That was of course until the even more impressive <i>Skull's Eye Schooner</i> came along in 1993. On this one they really outdid themselves, decking it out with all the above (minus extensive stern-side cabin although it's still there), but adding taller masts, black-striped sails, and four canon ports. They even threw in a shark for good measure. So if you were lucky enough to get your hands on the best of the Legoland universe, it was still sure to be the choice of "I want both."<br />
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Then there was the more battle-rattled <a href="http://www.brickset.com/browse/themes/?Page=2&theme=Pirates">Red Beard Runner</a>, which featured some more movable parts and torn up sails for combat action and functioned as the the pirate's response to the Armada Flagship. For those who don't know, the Lego Pirates system included a few spinoffs with its Imperial Armada and Islanders collections designed to give the pirates some foes to contend with and ultimately some more sets for you to buy to complete the saga. The Imperial Armada were supposed to be the "good guys," but as any swashbuckler will persuade you, the pirates were always the real good guys with the heart for adventure while the Armada was just "the Man" trying spoil the fun. That "man" (so to speak) was called Commander Broadside, the archenemy of the fierce Captain Red Beard, or so we are told. This was the equivalent of <i>Treasure Island</i> on my 8yo me's imagination. </div>
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Many of the Imperial Armada sets had something to do with brigs and jails for the pirates, but they also had their own fleet of ships which weren't as impressive as the pirates of course, like the <a href="http://www.brickset.com/detail/?Set=6280-1">Armada Flagship</a> (also called the Royal Warship), which only had one main mast and stern sail, one canon, and movable masts for combat, so of course you just had to have both to get any high-seas adventure going. Despite this, just the contrast of the blue-striped sails and feather-hatted, stuffed-shirted soldiers clashing with the patch-eyed reds made this also a must-have, and it's actually not as small as it looks. It was joined by the more striking <a href="http://www.brickset.com/detail/?Set=6271-1">Imperial Flagship</a>, which had two canon ports and was obviously designed more to go ship-to-ship with the pirates. 2010 apparently also saw the release of an even more impressive <a href="http://www.brickset.com/detail/?Set=10210-1">Imperial Flagship</a> to rival its pirate archenemy, showing just how much progress they made the first time around. You can't beat the pirates, but you can certainly try!</div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-34574222217189198522013-11-23T03:59:00.002-05:002023-12-18T20:19:56.080-05:00Tramways and Gondolas <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every couple weeks I search out more and more odd things just to give the couple dedicated readers I (probably) have yet more insights into everything that was quintessential me as I was growing up. Nothing quite says "8yo Me" like the excitement of a gondola ride up a mountain, for the highlight of any trip north to the White Mountains all those Precambrian years of my life was undoubtedly the five minute ride along those waves of cables and towers. </div>
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If I'm not mistaken, I believe Mount Canon was the one with the tramway, which was like a bus-sized lift bringing people to the summit and back, and Mount Loon had the more intimate gondolas, which I liked better. I remember the tramway actually had only one big tower post in the middle doing all the heavy lifting while the gondolas had them marching up the side like a ski lift. Mount Wildcat also had the gondolas, but that was more of a skiing destination, so we didn't ascend that one much. Ironically the biggest one of them all, Mount Washington, is a drive up, which is also the most harrowing ascent of them all for reasons those of us in the know will know! "This Car Climbed Mt. Washington" is a popular bumper sticker up here for all those who've done it and survived. But at least they give you an audio tour guide when you're driving up that is both informative and hilarious to play along the way if you should ever find your front end dangling off a ledge! <i>"Make sure to take this opportunity to view the beautiful vista to your left..."</i> <b>Ahhhh! </b><br />
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When riding the gondola though, I actually wasn't so much interested in the views my dad was constantly trying to get me to "stare out at." Like most boys, I was way more interested in the mechanism of the actual lift itself, its lonely outpost towers sticking up the blinding-white snow slope like advancing high-tension lines every here and there, that slight "bump-bump" I'd hear every couple minutes, and of course all the waving at the other gondolas passing on the way down. Once at the top, the excitement cooled as we'd enter that Enterprise docking bay, although coming up on it was always a contest of "who could spot it first." <i>"Oh I see where we're going now!"</i> I'd usually spend the whole time at the top just dreaming of the way down, and at the bottom be all like <i>"let's go again!"</i> </div>
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<a href="http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/00/0f/5d/e7/loon-mountain-park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/00/0f/5d/e7/loon-mountain-park.jpg" height="138" width="200" /></a>Now all this was rather odd because I had a deathly fear of heights, but something about taking off in one of these guys was more exciting than fear-inducing, probably because I figured if they ever fell off at least the enclosure might break the impact a tad. This love of riding the lift itself (and never the actual skiing experience, for I have never skied) may seem rather trite now compared to all the grandeur going on around it, but you got to imagine what these things were to the proverbial 8yo Me. When these guys came sliding down the line into place and those futuristic doors opened, they ceased being a mere lift device and became Enterprise shuttlecrafts! You step in and it's nothing but "God help us in the hands of engineers!" and "warp speed ahead!" It was nothing but a little futuristic escapism in the great middle of nowhere. </div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-5864882259866416332013-10-29T03:02:00.005-04:002013-10-29T03:09:58.122-04:00McBoo Halloween Pails<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sit down kids and listen to a scary story: Every once and a while back in the day, around Halloween night, McDonalds would give kids Halloween-styled pails with their Halloween-styled Happy Meals (frightening stuff in there!) to go trick-or-treating with, so you got to know that for a dork like myself, this probably had my name all over it, and it sure did. Despite how dorky you may have looked carrying one these around trick-or-treating, at least the old McBoo pails they used to send us home happy with actually had <i>something</i> to do with Halloween. Usually it was a pumpkin, a ghost, and witch, and I know I definitely had the pumpkin one with the queasy "ga-harsh!"-looking face, and probably still do somewhere, burred out in the garden, waiting to rise again!<br />
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But here's the real scary part. The new 2013 McDonalds Halloween "McBoo" pails (which aren't even called that now) are just <a href="http://www.strangekidsclub.com/2013/09/24/first-look-2013-mcdonalds-halloween-happy-meals-revealed/">crass marketing tie-ins</a> for Angry Birds and some other junk they think girls will go for. What a shame.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: orange;"><b>Happy Halloween!</b></span></span></div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-84711152524972357922013-10-21T00:43:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.104-05:00Forgotten 90s Kids Movies IIIWe watch a lot of movies as kids, the good, the bad, and the forgettable, and they all kind of just exist as facts of life at the time. We don't know any better, or maybe we do, but we don't care. I've said it before and I'll say it again, kids aren't as dumb as they look. They can discern trash from gold, they just don't always care and usually find something to like in anything. I guess that's where I come in, because I actually remember being disappointed by a few movies even as a kid, and that's got to count for something, even if it was rarely for grown up reasons. Here I'm going to look at some kids movies I spent hours of my life parked in front of back in the 90s, some of which I remember liking and some of which I remember being disappointed by, but still coming away like "eh, it exists, so it couldn't have been bad." Most of these are of the "inspirational" variety. You know, the ones with lots of title cards and stock movie scores in the trailers and deep-voiced men saying <i>"Paramount Pictures presents..."</i> very slowly. That's the kick I'm on now.<br />
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<b><u>Andre</u></b> - I was massively disappointed by this as a kid. First of all, the movie bills itself as based on some inspiring true story about a seal named Andre that got adopted by a family in Maine in 1962 and then kept returning to shore every year or something and went on to a life of fame because of it. But all of that "inspiring true story" I wanted to see seemed to be condensed to the last two minutes. The rest of it was Free Willy, happening before all that took place. It was instead the touching story of a girl and her seal doing stuff together like blowing copious raspberries and getting into mischief, until the big bad fishermen try to put an end to all the shenanigans because shenanigans shouldn't be had and they got fish to catch. I think it suffices to say that I don't remember anything much about this movie, and so it probably is truly forgotten. And just doing a little reading reveals that the animal in the movie is a sea lion, not even a seal! <b>"He's just a friend!" "A bad-smelling, fish-eating, raspberry-blowing friend??"</b><br />
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<b><u>Fly Away Home</u></b> - More girl power. Yay? On the flipside to <i>Andre</i>, when it comes to "girl and her animal" movies, this one I saw with the lowest expectations, even laughing at the premise, and then actually came away much impressed with. I mean, the story sounds ridiculous: a girl becomes mom to a bunch of geese chicks that grow up and need to do what Canadian geese do (fly away home...), so she gets her dad to build a giant flying goose to lead the way for them north or at least back to their homeland Canada before their visas expire. Despite that, this film actually works as a story. The characters are pulled together in this common cause, this girl and her dad become closer during the experience, she learns what being a mom is all about (I don't think she had one, or something), and we even get these spectacular flight scenes. Overall, not totally forgettable, except that it was largely forgotten. And now thanks to the wonders of the internet, I no longer have to feel crazy for calling it "<b>Flying Wild</b>!" Apparently that was its original name. I KNEW I saw it in the commercial once! It took me 20 years but I <i>finally</i> won that argument! <b>"You are risking your daughter's life for a bunch of geese!" </b><br />
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<b><u>Angels in the Outfield</u></b> - This movie could not disappoint, because it was exactly what it seemed. A young foster-care boy longs for the affection of a father who pins his entire acceptance of parenthood on whether a baseball team will win the pennant. So said boy doesn't just wish for this to happen, he prays for it: <i>"God, if there is a God, do you think you could help them win a little?"</i> And because it was a prayer and not just a wish, God responds to it by sending "angel Christopher Lloyd" to do just that for the team, and they do just that, but wouldn't you know it, the kid had a family all along! This movie actually wasn't that bad, and even had some funny bits involving the slapstick physics of the angels (<i>"There was an angel in my Coke!"</i> and the gut-busting scene where a guy sits down on one!), but it also had a heart in there somewhere. Not too many kids films deal with foster care, although maybe Free Willy also had something to do with that. You also don't see too many mainstream kid movies actually deal with religion, even if this is about as saccharine and non-denominational as it gets. I still liked it. Little known fact: Joesph Gordon Levitt had to start somewhere! <b>"Even though you can't see us, we're alllllways watching!" </b><br />
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<b><u>Balto</u></b> - This movie really disappointed me, but only because I was so looking forward to it. The trailers made it look like this epic, mature, beautifully made adventure film based on a true story of the Idig-a-dog snow teams and how they saved Nome Alaska with a shipment of "antitoxin" during an epidemic. Imagine my disappointment when all those beautifully animated scenes in the trailer weren't so amazing in the context of the story, like the trailer's "aurora borealis scene" which turned out to be just... broken glass shining on snow wall... that kind of thing. While there is quality animation at times and the real life story elements are treated pretty well, I wasn't expecting just how much of the film was going to be so "kiddied-up." I didn't care for the live action parts, although I suppose they explain all the fantastical elements, and I actually didn't care for all the slapstick for once, which normally would've been my thing, but maybe I just expected more from <i>Balto</i>... although I did end up loving the polar bears just for being funny, despite their uselessness. <b>"Wolf-dog! Better get back to your pack!!" </b><br />
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<b><u>The Indian in the Cupboard</u></b> - Politically incorrect title aside, this movie was kind of the same as <i>Balto</i> in that it promised much and delivered little. The whole thing is full of strange scenes, like a kid getting a cupboard for his birthday for one. I don't want to see that. I was embarrassed for him! Then there's the long scene where the older brother steals his precious cupboard only for it to be found in the crawlspace two minutes later, and, oh now the key is missing, so now we got to get the key, and it's just goes on and on. Mostly the movie just underwhelmed me. If I had a magic cupboard that made my toys come to life, I'd be bored with a little Indian real fast. I'd be sticking my dinosaurs in there! Let's get some toys to eat the other toys and then we'd be talking. I wanted this cupboard to become a threat to civilization, but no such luck. I don't even remember what the plot to this was. But I will give it credit for depicting dorks in a true and positive light, because this kid and his circle of friends could've easily fit in with my friends back then, real horror-show. <b>"You should not do magic you don't understand!" </b><br />
<br />
So there we have it. Until next time, wait for next time.Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-435745980996687922013-10-14T03:11:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.087-05:00Camcorders and "Home Movies" <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-azEc1FO8zbg/UluIQ9Cmn5I/AAAAAAAAD60/MbTyHFkONZE/s1600/1980camcorder.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-azEc1FO8zbg/UluIQ9Cmn5I/AAAAAAAAD60/MbTyHFkONZE/s320/1980camcorder.png" height="120" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay everyone, say 'Griswolds!'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Nowadays we can take pictures and video with a few taps of the touchscreen, but I remember a time when we actually dreaded making what we used to call "home movies." I remember how dad (usually dad) was always whipping the big-honking thing out every Christmas, birthday, and just any day he felt like being an amateur filmmaker, propping it up on his shoulder and gathering us all together to be the main attraction, whether we wanted to or not. I remember the "squint" in the view-finder, the ever-present JVC or Panasonic logo, the assortment of big glass lenses covered in fingerprints, and (though it may be total anachronism now) I remember a time when you <i>really did</i> see the little white lines and the blinking red "REC" in the corner when you recorded something. This is where it all comes from kids.<br />
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At least these days you can delete horrible shots, but there was a time when your dad's film ambitions would be stuck down on celluloid forever, whether they were picture-perfect Kubrickian high cinema or (more likely) Michael Bay shaky-cam clip show. How many of us have reams of celluloid devoted to us flipping the bird on vacation, getting pukey-faced after too much ice cream on our birthday, or the ever-popular "sitting on the toilet" voyeurism they used to torture us with? Home movies were always more of an interruption. How annoying was it to have to stop tearing into your presents on Christmas morning to announce "what you got" and "show it to the camera" every five minutes like the camera was a person and gave a damn? In fact, I will go out on a limb and say the camcorder was a weapon of psychological destruction... even if it couldn't have been any worse than what these <i>"Disney World! Nah, just kidding..."</i> Youtube parents do these days. At least our humiliations weren't broadcast for the whole world to see! So I guess you could say the camcorder has screwed up two generations of kids, or at least, the people wielding them have. "Daddy did it" indeed.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHx6A668UYs/UluIRJadlqI/AAAAAAAAD64/oMnWthnYLnU/s1600/8mmCamcorder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHx6A668UYs/UluIRJadlqI/AAAAAAAAD64/oMnWthnYLnU/s200/8mmCamcorder.jpg" height="121" width="200" /></a></div>
It was easier said than done anyways. I could never get camcorders to work right. Nobody ever seemed to know if they were actually recording when we thought they were recording, or not recording when we thought they were doing what they were doing when we thought they were recording, or just not recording. If that's confusing, then yeah, that's kind of what it was like. There was always some little "blinking light" hidden somewhere on it that would tell you, nevertheless, I can't tell you how many vacation videos were void of any of the sights and full of hour-long bouncy shots of the interior of the camcorder case. There'd always be that moment after we all got together in front of some landmark, all grinning like a bunch of fools, and dad (usually dad) would go, "Hmm... that's funny... it says the tape is out... I put a new one in two hours ago... just hold still family... got to figure this thing out here..." Better was sitting down later to see your dad's short shorts in a whole new light... for a half an hour.<br />
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Not only did I not care very much about making or viewing home movies, I don't know anyone who did. People even used to host parties and invite people over to watch their home movies, embarrassing the hell out of all involved, so I made sure whenever I got the spotlight, I'd make it worth it. I'd usually do things like smooch the camera lens or do a funky dance, just to give the people something. Likewise, my uncle used to play games with it, like turn it upside down randomly so that we were jumping on the ceiling, and my dad used to do "magic tricks" with it when we were little, using jump cuts to make us suddenly "vanish" from a shot. Those were always fun. And I got to say, every time I got to play around with one of these camcorders, getting to prop it up on my shoulders, it never failed to make me feel like an amateur Spielberg. If I had a touchscreen camera as a kid though, I'd probably <i>be </i>an amateur Spielberg by now. <br />
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Can I get a boom mic on this?Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-75995104782599066562013-09-30T03:27:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.103-05:00The Greatest Birthday Gift <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJzgCVmaFSU/Vc7Y0t-tY2I/AAAAAAAAGFk/Xd2t1pYN44I/s1600/8a20d398-a758-4a38-9b1e-b1ffe8fa0898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJzgCVmaFSU/Vc7Y0t-tY2I/AAAAAAAAGFk/Xd2t1pYN44I/s200/8a20d398-a758-4a38-9b1e-b1ffe8fa0898.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desk lamps: The birthday present<br />
of champions!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I will not tell you when my birthday is for obvious reasons, but I have video document evidence of myself on my actual 8th birthday tossing aside clothes, games, and then virtually flying into pure elation hysterics over getting a desk lamp. This was the home movie I saw years back where I throw aside a birthday card to get to the present, only to be redirected back to the card.<i> "You got to read the card!" "Read the card first!" </i><br />
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Of course, who can forget having to be <b>told</b> to stop and "read the card" when you're in the middle of tearing open presents? Your eyes fixate on those words you can barely read and yet still find their way back to the new game or toy sitting on standby, waiting for you to decide when enough "card time" was enough, especially with everyone watching you "stare at it." I was all like "Are they still looking? Screw this... can I just put it down now? What's in that box?"<br />
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So once that duty was over it was on to the presents, apparently I had my heart set on a desk lamp that year for some reason because my eyes just blew open wide with amazement at this ordinary white desk lamp and I just couldn't stop talking about it. Even long after, I can be seen very visibly sneaking peaks at this desk lamp. Now if that reveals anything about me, it's that my excitement threshold for the mundane has probably always been exceedingly low.<br />
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The major thing I remember about that desk lamp was it was white all over (like the picture) and I ended up putting a green light-bulb in it so that all those late nights would be lit in a green glaze, which I thought was the coolest thing ever. This was the case until the early morning when my milk looked like orange juice (I shouldn't have to explain how eyes work). Red had always been my favorite color, but I think I blasted green into my brain so many nights that green just took over. How groovy was it that I got to spray our bedroom green every night as I crawled into that top bunk (much to my brother's chagrin down below)?<br />
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Even today if you saw the way I live, you'd say this guy is all about green. Not only is this time-waster of a site decked out in green, but I even have green sheets and towels (yes, I bought them for college). My walls are green. My desktop is green. I even like green tea. And I guess I have my 8th year of life, and one very funky birthday present, to thank for it. You know what else is green? No, not money. The Klingon Bird of Prey!Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-75942242707309221992013-09-27T01:29:00.000-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.102-05:00The "Soda Bark"<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgGOFIQFxOY/UjwTgUd9zCI/AAAAAAAADr4/xz0gKecOoFQ/s1600/621df60c8496157132541d8e6b0bcfba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgGOFIQFxOY/UjwTgUd9zCI/AAAAAAAADr4/xz0gKecOoFQ/s320/621df60c8496157132541d8e6b0bcfba.jpg" width="120" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun fact:<br />
Sprite cans<br />
<a href="http://2penniesworth.com/2010/04/01/the-evolution-of-sprite/">don't look like</a><br />
<a href="http://2penniesworth.com/2010/04/01/the-evolution-of-sprite/">this anymore</a>.<br />
*Mind blown*</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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To this day I am addicted... URRRP! (aw yeah) ...to all things fizz. Even plain old water, just put some bubbles in it and I'm good to go. These days I'll usually be in the process of finishing off a can of something or other any given hour of the day and my palette changes a lot (I've switched sides in the Cola War... sorry Pepsi, I still like your diet though), but when I was a kid <a href="http://2penniesworth.com/2010/04/01/the-evolution-of-sprite/">my thing was Sprite</a>, maybe because it was <a href="http://eightyearoldme.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=4FilX0EBAAA.yWEQyl25-S4Bc6vjD1SNAA.PJmNpuSppGLeo65Sr4Y-Og&postId=4398684989253595982&type=POST">sweeter than 7up</a>. I lived on the stuff. I drank it like water. You know how when people can't sleep they usually go for a glass of water or a swig from the ol' milk carton at 3am? I was not one of those people. When I was wandering the house in my undignified attire at 3 in the morning looking for fluids, I was gunning for the Sprite, because hey, it's "caffeine free" after all. That means I could have it before bedtime and not have to worry about being up at 3am and unable to sleep... which obviously didn't happen.</div>
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And not only did all this carbonation excess from the Sprite never fail to induce a powerful spell of deep-throated and continuous burping, it also made those burps taste their very best. That is, like pure monstrous awesome. And I don't care if you're going to hate me for saying it, but if you were ever your 8-year-old self once, you should know what I mean when I say that the second best part of putting soda into you was what it causes to come back out of you! I might polish off a can and lay back bobbing my head for minutes as the "rolling thunder" was wrought, or I might go a whole minute, the pressure building like a volcano, and then just release it like a beast! Loud and proud enough to make Simba blush, and especially if there were other maturity-impaired persons in the area, or just anyone who can appreciate art when they hear it. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Later I moved on up and outgrew such silly pursuits. I mean, why practice such an immature pastime as the "soda bark" once you've figured out how to burp loudly on command? My friend Nick taught me how to burp on command in the 3rd grade, and at school no less! It was like learning a super power. Now my burps were no longer tethered to food and drink, but anywhere and anytime, and with some practice (and a lot of accidental puking), I was able to make them at least as loud as the good old "soda barks" of yore. I know, it's a useful skill for any boy, but then again, seen any mammoths lately? We gotta do something to feel like true champions of manliness in a world with no mammoths! This is what we have to work with.<br />
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The only problem, besides the fact that girls avoided me like the plague (either grossed out or genuinely scared of the fucking TIGER I had roaring in my throat!) and teachers either thought I was just priming myself for the principal's office or about to explode ("are you okay Mark?), was that burps on command never came with that sweet, fresh, lemon-lime zest that just made the soda barks all the more special. But no worries, that's what burp-talking was for! And that usually consisted of me saying "penis" over and over, delivered in the key of tiger roar level belch. I was just a few letters away from the full alphabet.<br />
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It really is an art. And like any art, anyone can do it (anyone can pick up a paintbrush or bang on a piano too), but it takes talent and practice to REALLY rip 'em out loud and proud, like beautiful crescendos of throaty bullfrog blasts. I was never a prodigy, but I could hold my own. I mean, nothing was funnier sometimes than being around mixed company, like other parents or teachers, sitting there and letting out this ear-piercingly loud monster URRRRRRRRRRRRP!!! like a fucking subwoofer blitzing out, a tire popping, a lion roaring, or whatever else a deep-throated, full-throttle, earthquake-inducing, rip of esophageal man-thunder could be compared to... only to follow it up with a cute little "excuse me!"... like, you know, because that makes it all okay. And then do it again! Ah... memories.<br />
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Sometimes I swear I sucked so much air in, some of it would go missing inside me, only to come out as a fart instead. I mean, you'd be sitting there just clenching up again and again, sucking in air, putting stress on your whole body, and suddenly it would come out the other end.... FRRRRPF! And then it's like, wow, that was an unexpected treat! Yeah, nothing was wasted! Me and Nick both got a kick out of that, and wondered if it could work the same in reverse, or if we could master burping and farting at the same time, which is to be living the dream. We never reached that level though. That's beyond manly. That's God tier.<br />
<br />
Still, with a little more practice...</div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-52561685362663527362013-09-20T04:13:00.001-04:002023-12-18T20:19:56.082-05:00Favorite Chapter Books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I really liked to read as a kid, maybe only because I didn't grow up with a GameBoy for a hand, but I'm sure I'm not the only one. Any book that had a big shiny Newbery Medal embossed on the cover had to be legit, and that was good for me, because how would I have known if a book was good or not without it? When it comes to Newbery medals, there were books like <i>Hatchet</i>. I remember picking up Gary Paulsen's <i>Hatchet</i> in the 4th grade and regarding it like "high literature," like the kind of thing "adults read." Here I was thoguh, I didn't even know what a "hatchet" was (even long into reading the story), but I knew at least that the cover had a howling wolf and teen guy, a giant ax, and a plane. It looked like it was shaping up to be a great outdoors adventure story, so of course I dove into it. <i>"I can read,"</i> I figured.</div>
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Like most kids, I loved adventure books and had grown up on really obscure book series like <i>The</i> <i>Ladd Family Adventures</i> and <i>Adventures in Odyssey</i>, and so this book really was right up my alley and even looked so much more "mature" about it's adventure, so I knew I had to give it a look. In fact, it may have been the first so-called "adult book" I ever attempted. And I really mean "attempted," because the first time around I never finished it. My un-diagnosed dyslexia that I don't have (I think) was causing me to call the main character "Brain" rather than Brian, and I just remember thinking what a weird name "Brain" was for a guy. Whether Brain or Brian, this book really was a good adventure story of a youth going down in a plane crash and having to survive in the wilderness completely alone and with nothing but his trusty hatchet (which I only later figured out was an ax, since the cover didn't clue me in). I enjoyed it so much that I still find myself calling any weird berry I see in the woods "gut-cherries." Remember kids, red <b style="text-decoration: underline;">and</b> sweet.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXtjG1wb2IM/Ujv03HsglfI/AAAAAAAADrE/ODF7WgHvVd0/s1600/200px-DearMrHenshawBookCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXtjG1wb2IM/Ujv03HsglfI/AAAAAAAADrE/ODF7WgHvVd0/s1600/200px-DearMrHenshawBookCover.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
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There was another book a teacher read to us about a young graffiti artist's daily romp for survival and his mad dashes to avoid the cops that I just drooled over, but for some reason I can't find any record of this story's existence and don't remember any details about it (even the title or anything) other than a thrilling shopping mall chase scene where he skillfully paints his insignia and manages to avoid security. He goes on to become a famous graffiti artist in the process. Now despite vanishing from existence itself, that story about the besieged graffiti artist may have been the first time I said "I want to WRITE one like that!" in response to a book, and that inspiration has never left. But then there definitely was yet another book that definitely does exist that I didn't so much read but had read to me (the teacher during story time in the 4th grade), but it has come down through the years as one of my all-time favorites and one that I still tell people had a major influence on me wanting to be a novelist and what kinds of novels I wanted to write. This was <i>Dear Mr. Henshaw</i>, by Beverly Cleary. </div>
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I had read Cleary's <i>Ralph S. Mouse</i> books, or maybe had them read to me in story time, throughout the 2nd grade, but when it came to <i>Dear Mr. Henshaw</i>, I just remember being so captivated (even as a kid) by the drama and realism of that book. The story is a compilation of letters written by a boy over the course of several years to an author "Mr. Henshaw" who had visited his class when he was just a tyke. The first letter the kid writes is a class assignment and reads like a small child wrote it, but then for some reason this kid just keeps writing letters to this same author over the course of his life and that's where we get to see him grow up, we get to hear about all the turbulence in his family, his obvious need for a role model, his mood swings, the ups and downs, and his letters even start becoming long and detailed as he gets older. The book was all about growing up at an age when I thought I'd be 9 years old forever. I mean, this was pretty heavy stuff for a kids book, like LMN-heavy stuff, but it was the realism about life that got me, and that's why I said "I want to write books like that." </div>
Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-77980873109986960592013-09-06T05:55:00.002-04:002015-08-15T03:18:36.278-04:00The Rescuers Down Under<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had previously said in ages past when I did my reviews of <a href="http://eightyearoldme.blogspot.com/2011/10/five-forgotten-kids-films-i.html">"Great Forgotten Kids Films of the 80s and 90s"</a> that I hadn't seen 1990's <i>The Rescuers Down Under</i> since I was a kid, and since the quality of the film is often cited (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4gG55L_mpY">Nostalgia Critic</a> hath decreed), I decided to have it added to the Netflix a few weeks back to see if I could rediscover the lost glory that is this film. Dare I say, it actually didn't disapoint. What can I say? This is funny as hell: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPgTj46X5tg">"These are NOT Joanna eggs!!"</a><br />
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I will admit that the story was a little 'slight' (particularly with the mice), but that was true with the first one too, probably only because there isn't enough story here to support a premise this interesting. But the movie is still a riot and a roller coaster from start to finish. In fact, it may be one of my personal favorite Disney films, maybe because I just love everything about this sumptuous idealized Australian outback landscape we get to go joy-riding through, and I know I did when I saw it as a kid too. I mean, just take a gander at this incredible scene which comes hot off the equally-awesome <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=YYAQcIdb3lM#t=54">opening credits sequence</a> which I'm sure we all have burned somewhere in the back of our minds just waiting to be rediscovered. Boy did I want to be having these kinds of exciting wildlife adventures:<br />
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They don't make 'em like that anymore.Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537801349581289883.post-28789784756676428132013-08-27T04:21:00.004-04:002023-12-19T18:17:24.090-05:00Super Soakers aren't "Squirt Guns"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who you callin' "Squirt"?</td></tr>
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For all of human history, guys have taken joy in shooting things at other things... whether it was the bow and arrow, the slingshot, the cap gun, the paintball, the BB gun, or... whatever other long, cylinder-shaped, obvious-metaphor-for-something-else your mind will inevitably (and correctly) include. The joy of it goes back to our origins as hunters (I'm guessing), but over time it evolved into sport, and then into shooting harmless substances at each other for kicks. A useful skill, I know, but then again, seen any mammoths lately? (And yeah, before I get gunned down, I know girls are into projectile weaponry too, it's just... for some reason it's just dumber that guys are, like pretty much everything.)<br />
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See, besides the obvious built-in "gun appendage" strapping young lads could always have fun squirting off with (distance contest anyone?), they might've also been given the classic slingshot, usually so they could make themselves useful killing small rodents on the family farm. When this was no longer necessary, the weaponry became more of a toy... all the fun of sling-shotting rodents but without the unnecessary cruelty. Besides, now you could take aim at your friends! And so, in the 1950s, we had the introduction of the cap gun, the "burp" gun, the "BRAAP!" gun (both ends represent!), and the BB gun as the quintessentially sexist "boys toys." But despite the look, the sound, and the feel of a death machine at your fingertips, the fire power was still all imaginary. So in the 80s, Sega and Nintendo developed video game shooters, and most notably Duck Hunt, using a gun-based controller to make the carnage look a little more real... but still, nothing actually came out of the gun. The evolution of toy weaponry had yet to mature beyond making funny noises, broken skin, and make believe. We were still shooting blanks.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1MVaXrT12io/YRSX6HFoCuI/AAAAAAAAOw4/sk8mBarHXTwgtESjHgF9EUf_5L8r0Tu_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s373/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="373" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1MVaXrT12io/YRSX6HFoCuI/AAAAAAAAOw4/sk8mBarHXTwgtESjHgF9EUf_5L8r0Tu_wCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/giphy.gif" width="200" /></a></div>So enter the early 90s, and the generations'-long desire to shoot your friends in the back for fun (without causing injury like a paintball or BB does) was finally unlocked! Yes, there were "squirt guns," but please. Please! Mine's bigger! The early 90s did have one major innovation in the history of toy weaponry, and it was the SUPER SOAKER. Way better and badder, and therefore more awesome, the original Super Soaker, released in 1990, could hold about 1 liter of water and fire it a good 50 feet! It also finally looked like a pretty badass futuristic "gun" like you'd expect in a Predator movie or something. The major innovation of the Super Soaker was that, unlike squirt guns, it had a "pumping action," which not only made you look like a badass Rambo-warrior when you were out prancing around the backyard with it, but also compressed the water so that when it actually did fire, it would explode like MJ at a Chuck E Cheese! And when you got hit with these jets, you were bound to be streaked and squishy-heeled in short order!<br />
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Thus, the ultimate in toy weaponry was finally achieved in our lifetimes, and the world was not safe from the chemical warfare about to be unleashed. Sure, H2O is recommended, but you could put anything in them things, even piss. The male psyche never surprises, and the circle was complete.<br />
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Over the years these things just got bigger and meaner, holding more water and firing it farther and farther distances, with all kinds of accessories, like lazor guides and multiple shots with less pumping and easier "pump" refill (much easier than having to take the water jug off!), but whatever form they took, these things just about ruled whatever birthday party I was ever invited to. Once the guns were dusted off from the garage, there was no stopping the blitzkrieg... until they had to be reloaded of course. And so it was that after decades where toy weapons were only for target practice, kids were finally allowed to use <b>other kids </b>as the bullseye, thanks to this device. Boys will be boys, but only because a little water never hurt anyone.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALNkzC9JIjc/YRSXUrUZUwI/AAAAAAAAOww/JdCo1XXI30wE6_KhDcz_yTWH5146yeNYACLcBGAsYHQ/s300/s-l300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="300" height="184" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALNkzC9JIjc/YRSXUrUZUwI/AAAAAAAAOww/JdCo1XXI30wE6_KhDcz_yTWH5146yeNYACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h184/s-l300.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But do yourself a favor and stop calling these things "squirt guns." I had many of those small see-through plastic pistol-shaped squirters with the push-button trigger, and I don't even see how they can be compared. Every squirt gun I ever had only carried about a cup of water at most, and it only fired it about a foot or two. Please. Totally not manly. You maybe got one or two decent tiny squirts out of it before you had to pour water down that impossibly tiny hole in the top or submerge the thing and wait for it to "glub glub" its way to being stocked. There's no question that the Super Soaker and its band of clones blew the squirt gun out of the water.<br />
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Wetter is better indeed. And bigger is better. Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14835018457629824500noreply@blogger.com2