I finally ran out of Circus Peanuts. I wanted to throw them into the bag of other random stuff that I have for you today — like the kids’ party grab bags of yore. But without the Circus Peanuts, it’s not a grab bag. The Circus Peanuts really tied it all together. A theme, if you will. A bag-o-crap, if you want.
So instead of a grab bag, I just have random. Random bits thrown together. No bag. No Circus Peanuts.
But what about raisins? I do have those.
Random encounter. I met a woman at a party last weekend who used to work on the East Coast for — get this! — the guy who launched The California Raisins. “What was he like?” I had to ask. “Oh, my ex-boss?” Actually I had meant my favorite raisin, Beebop. But then I felt dumb so I blurted out, “Of course.”
She said he was still riding out his glory days of living high on the fat hog of stop-motion animation advertising. My favorite nugget — he wore Ray-Ban sunglasses to work. Before they were cool again. That’s how much he wished it was still 1986.
The look on the woman’s face said, This information is probably boring to you.
No, this information is all very important to me. Do you have anywhere you need to be right now? Do you want to get outta here and grab coffee? I had so many more questions to ask, including whatever happened to my favorite 1980s claymation Christmas special, A Claymation Christmas Celebration. I’ve searched in vain for that gem. And if there was time, I’d ask what she had on the Where’s the Beef? lady.
More advertising. I used to (still) get so enraged that the owl in this commercial chomped down on this innocent, trusting boy’s Tootsie Roll Pop that I could hardly see straight. I’m talking serious rage. I’m talking I wanted to rip the head off of that smug owl to see if he had a Tootsie Roll center. It was my earliest taste of injustice. It tasted like poop.
This is Jim, the husband of Darla. Darla of She’s A Maineiac
fame. And also of German Clock Girl
fame (sorry, Darla). I’ve had this sitting around in my email inbox for centuries waiting to do a new Dynomite!
This will probably be controversial, but I’m giving this ensemble a C+. I had to take off style points because polyester by no means has the stretchy give necessary for playing a brisk game of [your guess is as good as mine]. I miss those butterfly collars. Although, they used to be dangerously pointy. If parents didn’t already say it back then, they should’ve said, Don’t run with scissors. And for God’s sake don’t run while you’re wearing that shirt.
Jim’s shirt seems like the perfect segue for this. I hope you’ll join me in pausing for a moment of silence for my favorite Jewish Puerto Rican Sweathog, Epstein. When most Welcome Back, Kotter
groupies were all like, “Oh, Vinnie Barbarino!” I was all like, “Oh, Juan Luis Pedro Philippo DeHuevos Epstein!” Robert Hegyes died last month at the age of 60.
I want to give a shout-out to this new blog I recently discovered. Man of Errors
(aka John-Paul, aka JP). First,
he’s really funny and I like funny — and I bet you do, too. Second,
he’s of my era and a fellow nostalgia junkie. So I get to relive my past there when I’m not reliving it here. Bad music videos and movies, campy old magazine ads, awkward teen pictures (see above).
What more do you need to be happy? Third,
he lives in New Zealand, which I know little about (aside from Flight of the Conchords
). And I feel bad about that. My iPad’s auto-correction changed Zealand to Zebra. And I didn’t even notice. So to recap: 1.) funny, 2.) funny bad music videos, and 3.) funny bad music videos from New Zealand. Other stuff, too. Please follow him
so we can cross paths there, fist-bump and say, Fancy meeting you over here in New Zebra.
Raisins. Last, but certainly not least, here are those raisins I promised you. I hear they keep you regular. Enjoy!