My Valentine’s Day Cards To You

By Andrew Blumetti

I love you all.

Seriously.  Well, not the whole “like-like” school of brilliance dolled out by the Winnie Cooper-ed mind of Kevin Arnold, but you all who read, follow, and support my blog really are the bee’s knees.  I sincerely appreciate and thank anyone who’s taken time to read, enjoy, or roll their eyes at the cornball absurdity that fills this page on a relatively frequent basis.

Ok, enough of this gooey shhhh….ow of emotion.*  Let’s get down to brass tacks here.

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Before we continue, a favor first—  If you reside in the Northeast or Mid-Atlantic portion of the United States, please do me a solid- take a second and go to your window and look outside.  I’ll wait.

Back yet?

Ok, I’ll wait more.

How about now?

Good.

See the Everest-high mountains of white stuff?  There’s more snow out there than in a used CD bin.

Screw you, Blumes.

Yeah, this brutal winter is crawling by with all the lightning-quick speed of Artie Lange’s metabolism, but believe you me fellow snowed-in’s, as hard as it seems to believe, our ‘ol pal spring will be here soon, and before you know it, you’ll be itchy, watery-eyed, and sneezing your head off like the Queen of Hearts was demanding it.

But hey, even in two feet of snow, life would be nothing without small victories- my birthday is only 10 days away, pitchers and catchers are about to embark to Florida and Arizona for Spring Training, The Walking Dead has returned in all of its brain-munching glory, the Winter Olympics are running full steam, and the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition should show up on my doorstep anyday to make me feel pretty awkward in front of my mailman.  February is truly the month that keeps on giving.

“This cover needs more Kate Upton”- Kate Upton, Blumes

Of course mid-February ain’t all AMC-zombies and Abe Lincoln’s birthday cake.  Even if you’re still frostbitten from endless shoveling, you’ll still be sleeping on the couch if you forget the holiday that’s redder than Russia, circa 1960…

Conversation hearts?  Fat baby Cupid?  All-day Julia Roberts movie marathons?  A remarkably thinner wallet?  Make no mistake, make-no-mistakers, Saint Valentine is here with a bright red vengeance and he’s ready to kick yo keister up and down the snowy block.

For some of you, it’s a chance to take out a much-needed second mortgage for a dozen stupid red roses, boxes of mystery heart chocolates, and giant teddy bears the size of Delaware.  For others, it’s an opportunity to throw Adele on repeat, curse the Hallmark holiday for shoving your blatant singledom in your face, and chow down on your emergency stash of Ring Dings while you feverishly refresh your OkCupid profile for new messages till the clock eventually hits midnight and February 15th comes to save the day.

“This guy’s coming with me in the carpool lane!  I’ll just tell them it’s Robin Williams!”

That’s where I come in.  Whether you’re single, taken, married, or a cyborg, I’m here to boomerang back all that amazing support and positivity to you on this Valentine’s Day, Twenty-fourteen.  If it’s Friday and you’re in love, or maybe not so much, I want this day of hearts and crap to be your happiest and heartiest yet.

So, for a few short minutes, put that adorably plump Adele on hold, slam the flap on that box of uneaten Ring Dings, and pause those insufferable “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials… Here’s my personal valentines to you rad readers-  feel free to print and snip.

Happy V-Day.

Love, Blumes

(* If anyone recognizes this quote, I’ll come to your house, hug you, and make you a B+ dinner.)

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The Seven Deadly Sins of Bill Cosby

(2018 edit:  This was a piece written years ago, at a time predating the terrible accusations against Bill Cosby.  At that point, he was still strictly known as the ugly-sweater-wearing TV patriarch we all loved in the 80’s, and not a man found guilty of the monstrous claims against him.

I guess the most important question here is… can I tell the future??  I think it’s apparent the answer is:  Yes.)

 

By Andrew Blumetti  Bill Cosby

This blog has gone off a cliff.

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GLUTTONY

 

“Well, here, I had the taaaaasty ham sammich, and the mustard was just bippity baaa gooood. 

Ya see… the chippppps, they’re the ruffled, kinda like Theo’s hair, DAAAA, and the shirt with the leiiiii… well it’s like Hawaii! with the belly dancers and the volcanoes and it’s too warm for ma’ sweaters!  DAAAAA” 

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SLOTH

 

“Ahh, look at sleeeepy Billllll. 

Well, what happened here, I had a long night the day before this.  Little Rudy, ya remember HER?  Well, her little mustache keep collecting the FLOP SWEAT!  Baaaaa!  The bright lights, ya seeeee, they kept glistening off her little whiskerrrrs, and zippity zop bop, we had to keep filming My Bill Show late into the nighttttt!  Daaa…” 

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PRIDE

 

“My showwww.   Bippity zip, man ya know I was the firrrst black guy on the TV!  I did the Picture PAAAAAAges, with the Mortimer Ichabod Marker.  He was squeakier than my old shoes!  Bip bobbity… 

Ya know what time ma’ watch says?  It says it’s the bibbity booop blorp!  BAAAAAA.”

 

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ENVY

“That stupid Urkel kid! – that showwww was the stupid! 

He just sat there with the snortin’ and bortin’ and the hip bob bibbity boo zopp, with the pants up to his stupid kid nipples.  I can’t believe they stayed on the air, and ‘ol Bill got thrown in the garbage like a used Kodak Film box. DAAAAA.”

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LUST

“I went to TEMPLEEEEE.  The UNIVERSITTTY!  And nobody beats the Owls.  Except for the Penn, who’s sweatshirt I got on.  …and these fine young trackleetes from The University of the Tennessee. 

Boppidy bop!  I wore my best sweatpants to impress ‘em and hopefully get them the pregnant!  They had the orange shorts and I thought I was at the Hooooooters!   I said, ‘I’ll have some Buffalo wings with the hot sauceee!’  DAAAAA…” 

(Blumes note:  Bill later settled undisclosed lawsuits with both of these unfortunate girls who claimed Mr. Cosby encroached upon them, asking  “You want Dr. Huxtable to help you deliver the baby?!?”)

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GREED

“GHOST DADDDD!!! DAAAAA!!!  Biggest hit of the summer of 1990!!  And the second most successful film from that calendar year with the word ‘Ghost’ in the title! 

I got lots of the dead prezzies to play a dead guy.  Ghost Bill was zoobity zip zip!  I came back with my TOP HAT and the zipppty and the zorp and the kids wanted to play with ‘ma briefcase!  Frizzle frazzle!” 

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WRATH

“Well, the chubby kid, ya see, he ate all my puddin’ POPPPPPS. 

The little porker, well he got what was comin’ to him.  He’s eatin’ ma’ foooood instead listening to the jazz music!  I dropped him on the floor, and he fell on Lisa Bonet!  DAAAA   Zippity zip zorp bop!  Ya know what?  That little meatball never touched ma’ food again!  He knew Bill had the boppity bip zaaa!!!”

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Editor’s Note:  Bill Cosby said every single word on here.  Truth.

My Favorite Super Bowls (That May or May Not Have Happened)

By Andrew Blumetti

Well, this certainly didn’t happen.

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February.

Talk about getting the most bang for your buck.  They really do pack a lot into a little month, don’t they?

In a mere twenty eight days, we’re graced with a bountiful bevy of winter celebration–  Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day, President’s Day, Mardi Gras, Black History Month, Spring Training, and the most important of ‘em all (after Spring Training of course), there’s the great American holiday of Super Bowl Sunday, the biggest party since New Year’s Eve, only one month ago.

While granted, February’s short run is not as eventful as the unseen four weeks during 28 Days Later, but it makes me happy to celebrate my birthday during what would normally end up being a freezing, snowy, boring month with a girly-colored wuss birthstone.

Are you kidding me?

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Living in the greater New York area, especially within earshot of Giants Stadium (or MetLife Snoopy Stadium, or whatever it’s called now), the excitement, traffic, and overall buzz has been ramped up to a Spinal Tap-worthy 11 as the Denver Broncos go mono-a-mono with the Seattle Seahawks for all the gusto and glamor of gridiron glory.  It’s truly rocky vs. rainy in the Legal Marijuana Bowl.

Blumes note:  This offer still stands!  Now half price! 

But frankly, it’s Friday, January 31st, this is all old hat by now.

At this point, you’ve been endlessly bombarded with Super Bowl ads, magazine covers, news reports, cocky fans, and nonstop party planning for weeks now.  When Monday morning comes, and you’re more chili than man, you’ll undoubtedly know the Super Bowl had come and left its mark.

But that’s not who this article is for. 

Maybe you’re not a fan of hawks or horses, perhaps Richard Sherman’s post-game interview rubbed you the wrong way, or heck, or maybe you’re one of those people seriously considering a 7th Heaven marathon instead of football this weekend.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Your special teams for the Oakland Raiders!

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself enjoying the festivities of Super Bowl Sunday.  Dr. Oz-unfriendly food, offensively expensive commercials (that always feature a baby doing something un-babyish), the sickeningly adorable Puppy Bowl, and trying to get your greased-up fingers to press the remote buttons to change the channel as Bruno Mars performs at halftime- this Sunday is a bombastic event that will please folks of all tastes.  …as evident by this walk down memory lane of some truly classic and heavily unorthodox Super Bowl games of yore.

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1. SUPER BOWL XXXII: BATMAN VS. STORMTROOPERS

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na SAFETY!

 

As John Madden once called it in a most clever anagram, “Capes vs. Space”, this battle royale pitted The Dark Knight vs. the Imperial Army for 60 minutes of a nerdtastic pigskin extravaganza.  After a first quarter that was heavy on the Big D, Commissioner Gordon’s 45 yard rush into the endzone to close out the first half put Team Gotham up on top.

No guts, no glory, as the ‘Troopers marched their way back in the 4th quarter.

The second half was a superhero explosion of history-making offense as holy touchdowns Batman!—  the Caped Crusader aired it out to the Boy Wonder (who took a time out from cheerleading) in the Gotham endzone.

But, when the going gets tough, the tough get going, as the Stormtroopers, with their armored backs against the wall, bounced back to tie the game as the 2-minute warning approached.  Coach Vader flipped a crap when an ill-timed interception by Alfred the Butler spelled death for the Star Wars crew with the Bats taking home the trophy to Gotham City with a score of 28-21.

Go Team! Arwwwwwaaaaaaaarrrrrrahahahahahhaahhhhaa!!!!

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2.  SUPER BOWL XI:  KISS BOWL  (AKA THE TOILET BOWL)

 

“I wanna hike the ball all night!”

And you thought the Jaguars were bad…

Nothing screams out “gridiron glory” like mime makeup and gaudy platform shoes on men, but that’s why the KISS bowl was so unique.

Walking embarrassment Gene Simmons bit his long cow tongue as he slipped on his own fake blood on no less than three occasions, turning the usually triumphant game into a fumble-filled lowlight reel.  Pain in the ace, Mr. Frehley, shanked four field goal attempts, and starchild, Paul Stanley?   Well, he might as well have been the MVP… for the other team.

Chest hair and touchdowns!  Not just for Joe Namath anymore!

As far as scoring went, it was Detroit Block City.  The spandexed makeuped-ones never did touch the endzone, as KISS went down in defeat to good taste 49-0.

The best worst part was that they weren’t even asked to play the halftime show.  That honor went to The Doobie Brothers.

The great part about being KISS, is you can sell any crap you want at the souvenir stands…

 

The epilogue to this heavy metal tale of the 100 yards:  KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl, but on the plus side, KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl.

That jersey has the actual number of KISS fans left on Earth.

 

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3.  SUPER BOWL XLV:  ZOMBIE BOWL

Let’s have a hand for the hometeam!

It may have been only three years ago, but who could forget when the undead took down scalpers stadium-wide and invaded the turf during the timeless showdown of the Green Bay Packers and Pittsburgh Steelers?

Turning Aaron Rodgers into an Aaron Rodgers kabob?  Transforming Clay Matthews into an undead Thor?  Sending “Big Ben” Roethlisberger to the sideline to finally get some brains?

It all happened.  I guess.

Indigestion from overindulging in extra hot Buffalo wings rendered Daryl and Michonne practically useless that Sunday.

While the gameplay may have been painfully lumbering and a bit lethargic at times, it was no worse than any given Cleveland Browns game on a random Sunday.

The “Running Dead” tried to bite Tim Tebow on the sidelines, but he was immune to it.

But if Broadway has taught us anything, (and I guess it has…) —  the show must go on, flesh eaters or not.

Time will tell us that the zombies vs. zombies Super Bowl was a tad gory, maybe too confusing at times, and it may have taken five days to finish, but in the end, it was much less traumatizing than the Black Eyed Peas halftime show.

4th Down of the Dead!

 

One would be safe to assume the zombie apocalypse and certain doomsday would put a damper on the game’s festivities, with all the undead cannibalism and spilled guts, but the TV ratings reached an all-time high.  The NFC z-team ended up hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy, rotting limbs and all, bringing it back to frigid Green Bay where decaying slows down like Kirstie Alley’s metabolism.

THE ZOMBIES HAVE BECOME HIDEOUS!

The trophy had to be immediately sent out to be cleaned and shined due to the high volume of blood on it …on a weekly basis.

(On a positive note, in the zombie onslaught, Steelers safety Troy Polamalu was attacked, but escaped by a “hair”.)

Parking was tighter than George Costanza’s wallet…

…but the tailgating was awesome!

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4.  SUPER BOWL XLII:  THE RETURN OF BUD BOWL

 

 

Eli vs. Tom- buds for life!

 

For those too young to remember, the Bud Bowl was an early 90’s stop-motion beer bottle football tour de force that found its home during commercial breaks, squeezed in between multi-million dollar ads for Crystal Pepsi and The Bodyguard soundtrack.  It was a kick-glass all-out brawl between Budweiser and Bud Light.  Even as a long retired campaign, for me, that fateful Sunday in 2008 always be the year that the suds saved football.

Hut, hut… HOPS!!!

 

Phoenix, AZ–  When a thunderous monsoon that would’ve knocked over human brick wall, Howie Long, hit, it kept planes grounded and prevented both the Pats and G-Men from making their way into warm, sunny Arizona, the NFL pooped their britches, panicked and pooped them some more.

“But I wanna go on the PLAAAANNEE!!”

Sadly, cancelling the big game seemed like the only choice left, seeing as how there was no way to get the unfortunate stranded teams into the balmy city in time.  Luckily, the answer was only a bar away…

Long dead since 1997, a time when candy-lovin’ alternarock trio Marcy Playground was brimming with untapped potential, the beer bottles were called off the bench as Bud Bowl sat in as the substitute teacher for the real teams.   It was truly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but for drunks.

“My nose is red cause I’m half in the bag!”

The bottles tossed on the teams’ uniforms, and no one in the massive Arizona crowd was the wiser.  Nearly sixty minutes of play time and we all know what happened next-   Ale-I Manning to Beer David Tyree (what a good pick in the draft), the miraculous helmet catch, and a near-perfect season for New England ended in an 18-1 conclusion, as the bottled Big Blue were swimming in confetti in the Big Apple soon after.

No feelings were bottled-up in this game…

Understandably, in Massachusetts, spirits were wicked low, and where did they go?  To a bar of course.  NORM!

“Sammy, I’ve told you for years that beer saves all.”

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5.  SUPER BOWL XLIV: GAME MVP- ABE LINCOLN

Four Scores!  … and seven years ago.

 

For a few brief hours, the “L” in NFL stood for Lincoln.

We all know Abraham Lincoln was a president, emancipator, and a vampire hunter, but do you remember Abe’s big-time appearance in the Super Bowl?

The bearded one was called in to play when Peyton Manning had to leave the game early to film an impromptu Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercial.   He ran out, flying past the cheerleaders, zooming by the mascots, with the glisten of anger in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and a chin beard so mighty, the heavens above stopped to gaze in majestic awe.

The stovetop hat was thrown down, the shoulder pads were thrust on, and that pigskin flew like you wouldn’t believe.  It was going perfect, until… clumsy ox Drew Brees went down with a pulled hamstring on the slippery turf.  And being the helpful chap he is, ‘ol Honest Abe took the reigns and stood in for him as well, changing uniforms as the Colts defensive squad ran out.

He abolished the slaves, and demolished the Colts…

As the clock struck zero, the Big Easy soon was celebrating with the sounds of jazz and firey-cajun food up the wazoo as Abe Lincoln received an early birthday gift- a declaration as Super Bowl MVP.

It was rumored plentiful posterior-ed socialite Kim Kardashian emancipated her relationship with then-Saints running back, Reggie Bush, that night to lock lips with the sixteenth prez.

And how did A-Linc become so good at football? 

Just how you get to Carnegie Hall…  Practice.

Note:  Sadly, Lincoln’s pro-career was cut short the following pre-season when Ravens linebacker John Wilkes Booth broke Lincoln’s legs.

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Enjoy your Super Bowl weekend!  As usual, please Fed-Ex any uneaten chicken wings to me. 

Carl Winslow Kills His Whole Family! (Family Splatters)

By Andrew Blumetti

“You can find me on Twitter, @COP4LIFEINEVERYTHINGIAPPEARIN”

To address that seemingly exaggerated title, let’s bust out of the starting gate with an important question.  One simple inquiry that should, no, make that needs to be answered by the end of this article.

“Did he do thaaaaaaaaat?”

..and my dear friends, the answer to that haunting query, beyond a shadow of a doubt will absolutely come back, yes.

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Carl Otis Winslow is an island.

No, that’s not just because the zoftig patriarch of the Chicago household is filled with more coconuts than a Rupert Holmes song, it’s because, despite his penchant for adult hissy-fits and Sears Tower-high cholesterol, this doughy donut factory is still standing on two legs.

…and more importantly, it’s because a good chunk of his family isn’t.  

This is going to get ugly.

Take a few seconds to gander, ganderers.  Above this very sentence is a delightful photo of the Winslow clan mid-series.  Sure, they’re all smiles and bright colors here, but fate would reach its cold, calloused hand down and throw them in a different direction.  You can print that adorable picture out, tape it to your wall, toss a dart at it, and there’s a likely chance the character it lands on quietly disappeared by the series’ unfateful demise in 1999.

Well, of course, unless it landed on Carl.

Now, by comparison, here’s a cast photo in the show’s final (nauseatingly bad) season:

That’s some bone-chilling Winslow subtraction.

A few additions, a lot of subtractions.  My, my, my, that is some frighteningly suspicious TGIF math there.   Granted, television is a fickle land, shows do pick up and drop stars at will.  Heck, look no further than the differences between E.R.‘s first and last season casts, there’s nary an Eriq La Salle to be seen for miles around.  What made the cast changeovers on Family Matters unique is how heavy, yet subtle the subtractions came.

A typical 90’s neon-drenched sitcom whose seed was deeply planted in Perfect Strangers, (the Odd Couple for Eurotrash in the 1980’s), Family Matters quickly grabbed the “loving middle class African American family” baton from The Cosby Show, and ran like the Dickens through the following decade.

“Now I am so offended, we do the dance of joy!”

The hilarious irony is that the longer the show lasted, the less family seemed to matter.   Quietly dropping like flies, all while pants-to-his-stupid-nipples next-door nerd neighbor, Steve Urkel, apologetically hijacked the show, dunked it in silly juice, crashed it on the moon and eventually turning it into a grade-A slapstick mess on toast.

If there’s one thing Carl knew well, it was food, and if “you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs” rings true, it’s time to start looking at the last man standing for the remains of those tossed broken eggshells…

THE WINSLOW FAMILY BODY COUNT:

1.  Judy Winslow

I know we’re all thinking it, so I’ll just say it: “Poor Man’s Rudy”.

In real life, Jaimee Foxworth, who portrayed the youngest Winslow kin, took a major league spill down crap mountain so historic, even the world’s most adorable meth-head, Jodi Sweetin, rolled her bloodshot eyes at her in pity.  In the world of Family Matters though, Judy just flat-out disappeared, (although to the viewing audience, she actually disappeared somewhere between episodes 2 and 4).   The best part?  The family blew it off like the girl never existed in the first place.

Or, just what Carl Winslow would have us believe.

THEORY:  Desperate for a ratings bump and with blood-sugar issues driving him up a wall, Carl, infamous for his 28 Days Later-level of rage, turned to cannibalism during a dark, unaired episode.

Let’s begin our meal…

• 4 quarts of chicken broth
• 1 onion, diced
• 2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 young Winslow child

Annoyingly useless character gone, hunger pains gone?  Sounds like a Win/Winslow situation to me!

“Harriet, my Judy Noodle Soup was too salty.”

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2.  Rachel Baines-Crawford

“I wonder if Hollywood Squares is hiring.”

She wore stupid hats, sang at strange times, opened a restaurant with the most narcissistic name humanly possible, and bizarrely enough, left her weirdo son out of nowhere, only to make periodic returns at the oddest times with no explanation given.

Rachel’s sudden and unexplained disappearance was even more peculiar than Judy’s, as the character played a bigger, more important role (in other words, she had actual lines of dialogue).  Richie basically lost a mom, Harriet lost her sister, Rachel’s Place lost its owner, and Telma Hopkins lost her paycheck.  Tragedy was dinging like a pinball machine all over the Matters universe.

THEORY: During the final season’s Christmas episode, Rachel, after opening her presents, skedaddled and was never to be seen again (although leaving the show at that point really was a present).  To explain her lengthy absences, it’s safe to assume Carl “Buffalo Billed” Rachel, keeping her in an underground pit in her own restaurant’s basement, to fry up glazed donuts/yaks for him upon his request.

“It puts the sprinkles in the basket!”

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3.  Estelle Winslow

THUG LIFE.

SHOWDOWN!  Her new hip is the new hip!  A battle royale of this streetwise granny vs. yours truly

                ESTELLE                 BLUMES

Dates:            MANY                      HAHA!

Social Life:    YES                          HUH?

Hip Factor:   HIGH             PAUL PFEIFFER-ISH

Yet, despite kicking my sorry white kiester in carpe diem-ing, after marrying her main squeeze, Fletcher, the eldest Winslow also mysteriously went POOF! from the show, taking her new baritone hubby and the greater Chicago area’s supply of Ben Gay down the bottomless pit with her.

THEORY:  Let’s just put it this way… you don’t want to know what the secret ingredient in Carl’s “Taco Tuesday” menu is.  Yes, those are bits of support hose in there.

“Carl’s tacos gave me the Urkel squirts.”

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4.  Richie Crawford

“I don’t know why God made me either!”

Mother of all creatures, big and small!  This creepy little troll-faced hobgoblin…

Nowhere near as adorable as they portrayed him, freaky little Richie Crawford somehow managed to pull off the Everest-task of sporting both a terrible Jheri-curl AND a mullet simultaneously.

It’s like this… you know how when viewing photos of Michael Jackson as a child, there’s that wave of shock about how normal he looked in comparison?  Well, Richie is like an adult Michael Jackson, but as a freakin’ kid.  Trying to try to figure how that molestation scenario would play out hurts my brain.*

*too soon.

THEORY:  As if one weirdo youth wasn’t enough, the Winslows adopted the biggest sass-mouthed orphan since Annie.  Enter Jerry Jamal  Jameson, also known as “3J”, in the eighth season.  The powers that be deemed this too many kids, so latchkey Richie vanished with his flaky mom during the final season’s Christmas episode, leaving 3J to take the reigns as the low-Winslow for the show’s final half-season.

Or more likely, Carl paid 3J to poison Richie’s Capri Sun pouches.  The little runt never saw it coming.

No big loss, half of Richie’s paycheck went towards 70’s curl gel anyway.

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5.  Waldo “Geraldo” Faldo

“I just used Harriet’s luffa.  Does that make me less of a man?”

The resident city village idiot and best friend of Eddie Winslow, Carl’s eldest child.  Waldo was the owner of a Forrest Gump-ish lQ, an unexpected culinary flair, and is the single-handed reason I still annoy people to this day by responding, “No prob, Bob”.   But, in typical Matters mystique, he vamoosed during the show’s December years faster than a dirty-footed hippie dodging the draft during the 70’s.

So…

(wait for it…)

(keep waiting…)

Where’s Waldo?

THEORY:  When good-natured simpleton Waldo tried to cook calorie-Carl a healthy, low-carb broccoli dinner, Winslow snapped like a postal worker in the 1990’s.  That’s the number one reason you don’t bring your piece to the dinner table.  (Number two reason?  Buckshot in the rice pudding.)

Well, that’s the wrong Geraldo if I’ve ever seen one.

6.  (original) Harriet Winslow

“Hey Harriet, stop giving us a bad name.”

-Wet Blankets

Close to the series’ close, when it had unceremoniously been dumped on CBS to die a slow and painful, and well-deserving death, Jo Marie Payton, the show’s second-billed actress, left the show, to unseemlessly be replaced by a different Harriet Winslow, played by JudyAnn Elder.  Yes, we all noticed.  It was like a bad toupee.

Nope.

THEORY: To any readers in Chicago, go to Soldier Field.  Yes, literally on the grass.  Now, start running.  Notice that huge lump bulging out on the 20-yard line?  Courtesy of Harriet Winslow!

“DA HARRS!”

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When would supa-fly homeboy Eddie, goody-two-shoes fussbudget Laura, and massive shark-jumper Urkel have bit the proverbial dust too?  Maybe a tenth season would’ve given “Carl the Calorie Killer” Winslow the chance to work his malevolent magic on those unsuspecting stupid kids, but alas, we’ll just never know what horrors laid ahead at 1516 W. Wrightwood Avenue in Chicago, Illinois.

…or should we call it… HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES?!?

“HAHA! That Urkel sure loves his cheese!”

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Now remember that adorable family photo from earlier?  By comparison, it looks a heck of a lot sweeter than this haunting piece of evidence, found by detectives in Carl’s disturbing bedroom:

Till next time… no sweat, my pets! 

The Drink Knight: The Saga of Super Grover and Gatorade

By Andrew Blumetti

“I am whatever Sesame needs me to be.”

 

Ringo Starr…

Judy Winslow…

The guys in Aerosmith who aren’t Steven Tyler or Joe Perry…

Sometimes you’re just that guy.

There’s a street, and while the name screams out a magical land of bagel toppings, it’s actually a place where jovial fur-covered monsters teach us our ABC’s, our 123’s, and the importance of sharing a bathtub with just that special rubber ducky.

♪  Can you tell me how to get… how to get to Sesame Street?  ♪

Practice, practice, practice, and stick your hand up a puppet’s keister. 

Too bad there’s only so many colors in the rainbow, because if you reside at 123 in the brownstone-laden land of Sesame Street, and you’re the blue monster who’s not Cookie Monster, then you’re that guy.  And your name is Grover.

“What does ‘nom-nom’ even mean?!?”

I Got the Sesame Street Blues

While loveable and time-tested, being the second most popular blue Muppet means naturally, you’re gonna lash out to be noticed.   So, when everyone and their grandmother is waxing poetic over that gravel-voiced, pre-diabetic Oreo-muncher, you spill some soup, toss out contractions completely from your vocabulary, pop on a cape, and hurl yourself out the window, cause you’re the redheaded blueheaded stepchild, and you’re getting some attention, come cookies or high water.

Enter, SUPER GROVER

He’s loveable, he means well, and he crashes more often than the Obamacare website.   Heck, he even took time out of his busy schedule to protect our Thanksgiving from evil tryptophan and blowout Detroit Lions games.

Soaring like an eagle, Super Grover protects the skies of Gotham… on Turkey Day.

And if by this point something just looks slightly familiar about Super Grover, replenish those lost electrolytes and take a gander at this, gander-takers…

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There’s a storm a-brewin’ and the forecast calls for a 100% chance of lightning bolts.  They’re flashing all over Sesame Street and they’re leaving huge smoking craters all over the football field.  This is a chicken-and-egg situation so gigantic, it’s like Big Bird squated his feathery-yellow self down and popped out a massive omelette right in front of us.

“Snuffy, breakfast is on me today!”

————————

Be Like Mike

Simple answer to this origin… history lesson!   But unfortunately, this thirst-quenching quest isn’t really that cut and dry…

Gatorade, America’s most popular sports drink, founded on the campus of The University of Florida in 1965, and currently owned by PepsiCo., has incorporated the lightning bolt into it’s advertising since 1970.   Despite that, with a number of logo redesigns, it wasn’t until 2009 that the current “G-Series” logo was introduced with the bolt included.

Super Grover, the alter-ego of the Sesame Street character was introduced in the 1970’s, and used the “G” logo similar to the Gatorade font for decades, but it wasn’t until a 2010 re-branding that a lightning bolt was added to his costume.

So, while Gatorade was the first to use the lightning bolt, at the same time, Sesame Street can lay claim to the “G”.  All of this nonsensical circular research is really enough to make you feel winded and sweaty.

“After all of this flying, I am going to need many sips of Riptide Rush to feel quenched!”

————————————–

Lemon Lime or Lemon LIES?!?

So, if no one can officially produce concrete proof of placing their flag into the soil, it sunk in… maybe this is some kind of clever tie-in?  Maybe coincidences are for squares… Cahoots!  Cahoots I say!

After contacting both parties involved, here’s what I received back:

OFFICIAL STANCE FROM GATORADE/PEPSI CO.:

Andrew:

Thanks for writing to us. While I can’t comment on other consumer feedback, I can tell you that there is no official tie in between Gatorade and Super Grover.

I hope this helps.

Jenny
Gatorade Consumer Relations
A Division of PepsiCo

(sent on January 5, 2014)

OFFICIAL STANCE FROM SESAME STREET/THE JIM HENSON COMPANY:

No reply.   (as of January 10, 2014)

————————–

Well, crap.

“All of this reading and things are still fishy!”

So, all that work, and where does that bring us?

Gatorade can weave a clever yarn, but it’s impossible to overlook these little coincidences…

• As recently as 2011, Sesame Place ran an on-can promotion with Pepsi, Gatorade’s parent company…

Well, I guess there has to be some kind of reward for suffering through a can of Diet Pepsi…

• Sesame Street characters, Elmo and Abby Cadabby appeared in a segment with Los Angeles Laker, Kobe Bryant, who has appeared in Gatorade commercials as recently as last year…

“Elmo help fix Kobe’s broken knee!”

• Last year, Diet Pepsi used actress Sofia Vergara in a campaign.  Sofia Vergara is essentially evolving into a giant, jiggly, impossible-to-understand, cartoonish Colombian Muppet as each day passes. 

“I love PEEEEEPSI, and being on SEEEEEESSSSAME STEEEEEET.”

 

With Sesame’s tight-lipped stance, perhaps we’ll never know if this sports beverage and this puppet superhero are in bed together.  Despite what Gatorade’s official statement is, like it or lump it, kids plopped in front of the tellie will know that lightning bolt, and when they cramp up on the soccer field this spring, we all know what beverage they’ll be handed first.   To quote Ned Flanders, while this remains foggy, I’ll remain a bit of a “Suspocious Aloysius”.

In a year’s time, when we’re treated to “Grover Grape” flavor Gatorade, we’ll all know where that marriage began.

Looks like Oscar’s flavor is still not confirmed yet.

A Full House Comic

By Andrew Blumetti

 

Horror Villains Celebrate Halloween: THE FINALE!!

Illustrated by Andrew Blumetti

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… What happens when your favorite film ghouls break the bank at Party City?

… How many fun-size Snickers bars can Ghostface fit into his mouth at one time?

… Just HOW many costumes did Jason actually buy this year?

The answers to those questions …AND MORE* will be answered right now in the thrilling* conclusion of what happens when treats and tricks meet your favorite flicks.

* (Probably not too likely…)

* (Again, fat chance that’s true…)

If you missed out on the moderate chuckles, part one and part two can be viewed here.

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ALIEN QUEEN (Alien) as MILEY CYRUS

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THE INFECTED (28 Days Later) as CRAYOLA CRAYONS

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GHOSTFACE (Scream) as SURPRISED TAYLOR SWIFT WINNING AN AWARD

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THE GOVERNOR (The Walking Dead) as A CANDY CRUSH SAGA BOARD

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TARMAN ZOMBIE (The Return of the Living Dead) as KURT COBAIN

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KAYAKO SAEKI (The Grudge) as A DALLAS COWBOYS CHEERLEADER

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DRACULA (Bram Stoker’s Dracula) as PIZZA

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EVIL ED (Fright Night) as AL FROM HOME IMPROVEMENT

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OOGIE BOOGIE (The Nightmare Before Christmas) as WOODY FROM TOY STORY

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FREDDY KRUEGER (A Nightmare on Elm Street) and JASON VOORHEES (Friday the 13th) as WAYNE AND GARTH

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Is Stephen King Creepier Than His Own Characters? Yeah, Probably.

By Andrew Blumetti

“My next story features David Ortiz…it’s full of bats.  Get it?!?”

WARNING!  BEWARE OF THE NORTHEAST UNITED STATES!

When the red, yellow, and orange leaves begin to swiftly flutter to the ground and crunch under the weight of your shoe, and jackets make their way out of the closet faster than Liberace, things begin to get especially eerie up in the beautiful and quaint New England area.

No, you goofball, I’m not talking about the cackling Salem witches, and I am somewhat sure I’m not referring to Bill Belichick attempting to crack a smile and thus cracking a black hole in the nexus of the universe.

Nope, it’s the ever-ghastly presence of the morose master of the macabre, Mr. Maine himself, Stephen King.

“Quick, pull on my beard, it’ll keep us safe!”

Since the horror author first put spooky pen to paper, and began writing in the early 1950’s, libraries and bookstore shelves haven’t been safe thanks to King’s devilish novels and stories of blood-thirsty vampires, deathly plagues and killer cars.

Don’t think for a second this phenomenon is limited to only the written word, as the film adaptations of his wicked works have infamously become a part of classic American cinema history.  He’s crafted a wealth of terrifying tales that have scurried their way into our collective nightmares for decades and will surely continue to do so for years to come, long after King has hung up that same pen.

Part of King’s appeal is that he’s more than ready to delve into the seediest and darkest parts of our psyches, stirring up the pot and unleashing sinister and malevolent characters very few could imagine and even less would want to cross paths with.

That just raises the question– For all these years, how does he do it?  Why is he such a master at this bone-chilling craft?  Is Dracula his pops?  Too many Universal Monster marathons as a kid?   Perhaps a dark childhood could be the reason?

What leads someone to have such a natural knack for giving us the heebie-jeebies up our collective spine?  Is Stephen King really the most nightmareish creature to ever walk the earth?

Well, eight rounds with a handful of his own created brutes oughta answer that question for us…

——————————————

ROUND ONE:  “NO BEER AND NO TV MAKE HOMER SOMETHING SOMETHING…”

“Is this apple juice?  It’s apple, juice, right?”

 

THE CHALLENGER:  Jack Torrance

STORY:  The Shining

STRENGTHS:  Sinister smile, friendly with fiends, heck of a swing with an axe

WEAKNESSES:  Not so speedy in the freshly-fallen snow, ghost bartenders say he’s a lousy tipper

Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 classic on the King favorite, The Shining, has the honor of creating a veritable buffet of some of the most infamously creepy scenes in Hollywood history, often centered around Jack Torrance, in a role that was practically made for Jack Nicholson.  In the film version, Jack takes on Jack, a caretaker influenced by the evil spirits of a giant empty hotel  (Devil Tree?  Holiday Innsane?  Motel 666?  Scaryiott?) closed down for the long winter.

…and when he isn’t busy trying to turn his family into his former family, Jack spends long snowy days in the middle of nowhere lending a hand out on Extreme Home Makeover. 

Say it with me… MOVE… THAT… BUS!!!

“Hey door- YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”

…and not to be outdone themselves, as an added bonus, the classic “soil-your-pants-in-fear” Grady twins who hang out in the hallway of TACKY WALLPAPER!!

Sure, they’re unsettling, but aren’t the Olsen twins too?

“We… wore… the same thing.”

Now, they might be permanently etched into your dreams tonight, but don’t tell me this guy’s any better…

Enter a caption

RESULT?:  Jack’s just a queen compared to this king.  Steve takes home the early victory.

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  1

————————————————————

ROUND TWO:  THIS IS RUFF

“Sure, Beethoven got to hang out with Charles Grodin, I get fake blood on me.”

THE CHALLENGER:  Cujo

STORY:  Cujo

STRENGTHS:  massive angry pup who’s as big as a Buick, vicious bark, fetches only the obituary section of the newspaper

WEAKNESSES:  constantly wasting time to lift his leg on hydrants, can be distracted with Milk Bones

He certainly doesn’t put the “saint” in Saint Bernard…

Many unfortunate folks became Alpo for Cujo, the rabid homicidally playful pup who single-handedly pawedly terrorized a peaceful Maine neighborhood, and was kicked out of Petco more times than I can count.

“It’s BACONNNNN!!!!”

Stephen King, on the other hand, has been kicked out of Starbucks like four times.   Geez, just let everyone enjoy their Pumpkin Spice Lattes in peace, Steve.

“They call the small size ‘tall’, now, THAT’s creepy!”

RESULT?:  Hot dog!  We have a weiner!   … and it’s King.

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  2

—————————————————

ROUND THREE:  HELLO NURSE!

“You can’t stop me.  I survived in ‘Titanic’.”

 

THE CHALLENGER:  Annie Wilkes

STORY:  Misery

STRENGTHS:  facing a nearly immobile victim, playing on home turf, shops in the “Murder Aisle” at Home Depot

WEAKNESSES:   homebound weirdo, frumpy dresser

Now, haunted chambermaids and misunderstood pooches, that’s merely child’s play.  Here’s a real challenge:  Annie Wilkes, the batcrap crazy nurse with a heart of poo in King’s classic, Misery, is nuttier than a Snickers bar and quite the menace with a sledgehammer.  After her favorite author in the world, Paul Sheldon, seriously crashes his car in the snow near her remote home, Wilkes rescues, cares for, traps, and tortures him, all in one heartfelt tale.

“What do you mean muffins are surprisingly high in calories?!?”

But… keep in mind, this is how Stephen King acts when the crowd sings “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway Park.  Uncalled for…

“Good times never seemed so good… SO GOOD! SO GOOD!”

RESULT?:  King surprisingly hobbled the nurse for the win.

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  3

———————————————————

ROUND FOUR:  CLOWNIN’ AROUND

“I do Sudoku puzzles… IN INK!”

NAME:  Pennywise the Clown

STORY:  It

STRENGTHS:  being a terrifying clown, which is basically all you need here

WEAKNESSES: big goofy shoes make it awkward to walk, clown suit provides no fly to go to the bathroom

One of King’s all-time classics, It, is a long, long book with a long, long miniseries that starred Tim Curry as the infamous clown college dropout, “Pennywise”, a terrifying transformation of a malevolent force which exploits its victims’ worst fears, and is probably the reason your girlfriend is terrified of clowns.

He also went on to eventually went on to bang on tin drums on stage for Slipknot.  Or something…

“I don’t care if we’re rolling. I don’t step foot on set till I finish my bear claw.”

Clowns, schmowns, say goodbye to your balloon animals, cause Stephen King’s here, to sell you crappy kitchen knives, door-to-door!

RESULT?:  A big red nose, and a big red loss for the clown.  Halfway through, and we add another in the win column for King!

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  4

—————————————

ROUND FIVE:  THIS ROUND “SUCKS”

“Hurry up, I have to go host on The View.”

THE CHALLENGER:  Kurt Barlow

STORY:  Salem’s Lot

STRENGTHS:  head vampire, which luckily doesn’t include much paperwork

WEAKNESSES:  says, “fangs a lot” too much

In a book that King has referred to as his favorite in several interviews, Salem’s Lot tells the story of an writer who returns to his small Maine hometown, to find the residents are turning into bloodsucking vampires who fall in love with Kristen Stewart.  Word is, she didn’t smile once through the whole relationship.

Kurt Barlow (not to be confused with his cousin, Lou Barlow, who fronted 90’s lo-fi darlings, Sebadoh) is a master vampire, who notoriously terrorizes the town, and avoids all meals containing any trace of garlic, simply cause of bad breath.  In the novel, Barlow is depicted as a human, but is given a ghastly Nosferatu-esque appearance in the film adaptation, as seen here:

“Okay, who put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping?!?”

Stephen King, well, he just looks like a slightly thinner, less-fun version of Fat Mac from season 7 of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia:

“I’m packing on mass.”

RESULT?:  Back to the coffin, it’s King by a country mile, again.

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  5

——————————————

ROUND SIX:  YOU DA PROM!

 

“I may look happy, but my date has the hair of an English Sheepdog.”

THE CHALLENGER:  Carrie White

STORY:  Carrie

STRENGTHS:  a mean case of telekinesis, bug eyes

WEAKNESSES:  extreme shyness, unstable nut mother, ruined prom dress

Many believe King, like many famous authors, loves to cloak his blood-soaked tales of terror heavily in metaphors.

Sure, Carrie may be the tale of a shy, bullied high-schooler who exacts her revenge on her tormenters at the prom, connecting bridges to areas of isolation, religion and the troubled youth of our society.  But really, Carrie, one of the most notorious banned-books in high schools across the country, is much more straight-forward; it’s really the story of a shy high-school girl who is really bad at pouring ketchup:

“But I tapped the bottle right on the ’57’, how did this happen?!?”

But even if you didn’t find a date to the prom, an encouraging word to all the single readers out there spending wakeless hours a day on Match.com… Don’t lose faith, this guy found a wife!

(I almost take it back, this picture is kinda awesome.)

RESULT?:  The win goes to the prom king.

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  6

———————————————

ROUND SEVEN:  “DON’T STAND SO CLOSE TO ME”

“The world may have ended, so I just raided Jay Leno’s closet.”

THE CHALLENGER:  Randall Flagg

STORY:  The Stand

STRENGTHS:  pure concentrated evil, a love for demin

WEAKNESSES:  bossy, kind of a jerk, and let’s face it, way too much denim to be honest

Look what the cat dragged in…   It’s Randall Flagg, King’s self-proclaimed “best villain”, who was featured in a number of his works, but most notably as the antagonist of the apocalyptic magnum opus, The Stand.

After 99% of civilization takes a swan dive thanks to a released superflu, the wicked Flagg begins an arbitrary society of some survivors in Las Vegas of all places.   Not only do you not want to run into Flagg at the craps or poker table, you just don’t want to run into him period.  Just ask Wayne Newton.

He’s super-duper evil and has maraschino cherries for eyes.  He killed a lot of people, but most significantly of all, he killed Laura San Giacomo’s career.

“This mullet will end humanity one day.”

…and Stephen King has a fantastically creepy Dwight Schrute-ish face.

“Mose is chopped up and hidden in my backyard.”

RESULT?: Bears.  Beets.  Battlestar Galactica.  King for the win!

CURRENT SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  0

KING:  7

———————————————-

ROUND EIGHT:  EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS

 

It’s nice to see they’re still giving Wanda Sykes job opportunities. 

THE CHALLENGER:  Evil giant spider

STORY:  The Mist

STRENGTHS:  speed, shoots acid, stronger webs than Spiderman, there’s a billion of little ones crawling around

WEAKNESSES:  none, this thing could kill me in a second.

The Mist, a novella by King which was turned into the feel good film of the century by The Walking Dead series developer, Frank Darabont, featured a bountiful bevy of freaks, monsters and deadly oddballs in an unnatural evil fog engulfing a small town and closing in on a group of its trapped townspeople.

..and if you hate spiders, oh man, they had spiders.   They broke into millions of little freakin’ spiders and had webs of acid too, unlike regular spiders, which make webs Gwen Stefani walks into.

“Sorry I’m not home right now, I’m walking into spider webs, so leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

Ok.  The spider wins.  Sorry King.

FINAL SCORE:

CHARACTERS:  1

KING:  7

—————————

and the winner is… 

Well, dang-it, 26 outs is close to a perfect game, and King came pretty close in his own right today.  In a landslide, there’s no question on who’s the creepiest of the creepies, long live the…. yep…  King.

Wow, My Twitter Account Stinks.

By Andrew Blumetti

That little blue bird is the worst.

When you register for Twitter, the odds are really stacked against you, and that little fat-beaked, blue feathery tormenter is pulling the strings, laughing all the way to the bank.

Talk about fowl…

That’s more or less my personal experience with Twitter early on.  Upon first use, it was a bit confusing- it lacked the flash and browser-freezing pizazz of MySpace in its heyday, and the alien layout seemed worlds away from the friendly confines of Zuckerberg land, AKA Facebook.  The logo might as well have been a splotch of white bird poo instead.

But as time went by, living in a fast-paced world of retweets, short character limits, and starting every sentence with the “@” symbol didn’t seem as daunting as it originally did. Hey, if Kevin McCallaster could get used to his creepy torture basement and devil-furnace in Home Alone, then I could, suck it up, grow a beard, be a real man and tweet.

Yeah, we all know it’s the blue bird’s nest, but you’ve laid an egg of a nice little group of fellow social networking friends, and much like a comfy long-worn butt-imprint in the couch cushions, you’ve found yourself a sweet little groove to settle into.

Talk about happy endings…  Maybe all it took was time!   Maybe this Twitterin’ thing ain’t so bad after all.

Then Sydney Leathers came and ruined it all…

In a minor attempt at a self-deprecating tweet, I aimed to poke fun at Anthony Weiner’s texting buddy’s follower number comparing it to my modest amount of 172.  I was expecting a far lower number, then, like a bucket of ice cold water right in the face,  it hit home just how many more followers this faux celebrity had over me.

Let me put it this way, if my Twitter account was feeling like Kid N’ Play’s House Party, stupid Sydney Leathers just called the cops to break up the shindig at the best part.

“What you doin’ Leathers?”

THE BAD NEWS:  These D-list celebs are milking their head-scratching 15 minutes of fame, with a shockingly high number of Twitter followers*  that will make you barf, only to feel safe, then barf again.

THE GOOD NEWS:  By the time you finish reading this piece, most of their 15 minutes will be well over.

(Shameless plug:  You can find me on Twitter:  @99redblumes)

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I (somewhat) proudly present to you…

“TWITTER’S 15 MINUTES OF LAME”

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SYDNEY LEATHERS  (@sydneyelainex)

 

Known For:   Somehow being the trashier of the two parties involved in the embarrassing Anthony Weiner scandal. Since her admission that she and the disgraced politician had a “more than friendly” texting relationship, she’s taken lockjaw to her sputtering fifteen minutes of fame and is shamelessly following it into its grave. 

Because there’s no high roads in Weinerville, Leathers bought a one-way ticket to the dump instead– quickly accepting an offer from Vivid Entertainment and embracing her current career as a wannabe adult-film star.

I’ll also save you the Hostel-esque torture of reading her painful Twitter feed: She hates Anthony Weiner.  So much in fact, she mentions him in nearly every tweet and appeared uninvited to confront him at his concession party following his failed New York Mayoral campaign last week.

Plus, her last name is an insult to cows everywhere.

Current Number of Followers:  6,838

Scholarly Tweet:  “Pretty sure breast implants are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” (9/5/13)

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AMY FISHER  (@RealAmyFisher) 

 

Known For:  Being the “Long Island Lolita”- basically the brand name version to the generic Sydney Leathers.  Take a gander, you gander-takers:

1991:   Having an affair with non-heartthrob, Joey Buttafuoco, a man who basically looks like a human version of Zubaz pants, at age 16.

1992:   Shooting Buttafuoco’s then-wife, Mary Jo, in the head at point blank range at her front door, leaving her seriously wounded, as if being married to him wasn’t painful enough.

1993:   Served six years of a 5 to 15 year sentence in prison on charges of “first degree assault”.

2007:   Turned troubled life around and started career as an adult entertainer.

2009:   Signed a deal with Lee Entertainment to become a stripper, doing monthly shows.  Stating she will proudly strip until, her fans say, “Dear, please put your clothes back on. You’re too old.”  Which is so obviously true, it should’ve been done in big giant skywriting.

2013:    Dwarfed me in Twitter followers, but in her defense, she still hasn’t shot anyone else.

Current Number of Followers:  16,361

Scholarly Tweet:  “I read today I was a D-list celeb…that is so awsome, D is like 4th in the alphabet…. that’s pretty good… hee hee”  (11/9/11)

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KATO KAELIN (@Kato_Kaelin)

 

Known For:  Being the one guy in O.J. Simpson’s Ford Bronco who didn’t murder someone that June evening in 1994, eating McDonald’s with murderers, never having tied a tie in his life, managing to say the word “umm” more times on the witness stand than me trying to order at Starbucks, looking exactly like a guy named Kato Kaelin should look.

“Kato ate THIS MANY of my Chicken McNuggets!”

Current Number of Followers:  2,358

Scholarly Tweet:  “If the saying” u are what u eat” then how come I’m not Chinese?”   (6/12/13)

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SHIFTY SHELLSHOCK  (@shiftyrocks)  (Spoiler alert:  Shifty most certainly does not rock.)

Known For:  Being the vocalist for early 00’s one-hit wonders, Crazy Town (this band), a sought-after gig that Sinatra could only wish he’d have lived to see, also a career of rehab reality shows that actually had more legs than his career as a musician.   Dr. Drew sends him a fruit basket as thanks every Christmas.

(Blumes Fun Fact:  Back in 2000, Shellshock’s imbecilic “Everyone PLEASE look at me!” appearance created a worldwide eyeroll so big, it actually tilted the Earth off its axis.)

Current Number of Followers:  2,977 (account hasn’t been used in nearly three years)

Scholarly Tweet:  “Just left the Dentist, fun times….”  (4/29/10)

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SPENCER PRATT  (@spencerpratt)

 

Known For:  Being the less-talented half of “Speidi”, the ultimate portmanteau of 21st Century incompetence.  Aside from being married to fellow reality television star/socialite/plastic surgery guinea pig, Heidi Montag (of MTV’s The Hills fame), Pratt became infamous for ruffling feathers, frequenting social hotspots where paparazzi could find him, growing the most awkward beard humanly possible, and not having to resort to working in clown dunk tanks at county fairs… yet. 

Current Number of Followers:  979,112    (For a comparison, that’s nearly ONE THIRD of the followers Pope Francis currently has.  I’ll wait a minute so you can get Advil for your headache.)

Scholarly Tweet:  “Some people say I’m all washed up. Joke’s on them – I haven’t bathed in weeks”  (2/2/13)

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DUSTIN DIAMOND (@dustindiamond)

 

Known For:  Portraying super-geeky Samuel “Screech” Powers on multiple editions of 90’s high-school comedy series, Saved By the Bell.  A squeaky-voiced clod with a terrifying white-guy afro who devolved into more of a bumbling boob-caricature as the series aged.   The scientific term is “Urkeling” his character.

Diamond’s career was truly just a cubic zirconia, as he took a historic header straight down Crap Mountain–  declaring bankruptcy, appearing on a variety of two-bit retread reality shows, failed attempts at music and comedy, along with marital troubles, online harassment, house foreclosure, and a released adult-video.

“Congrats Elizabeth Berkley!  Unless there’s a Showgirls 2, you’re not going to win ‘Most Awkward Career Choice” at the next Saved By the Bell reunion!”

Current Number of Followers:  13,887

Scholarly Tweet:  “Sometimes when I’m bored I lay on my kitchen floor and pretend I’m a crumb…”  (7/8/12)

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Blumes note:  Of course this is all in good fun.  In the end, quality reigns over quantity everytime.  I’d take my excellent fellow Tweeters any day of the week over Kato Kaelin’s thousand of nameless cronies.

Heck, at least none of us lived with O.J.  …I hope. 

(*All numbers are accurate as of 9/19/13.)

The Horrors of the McDonald’s Playground: A Walk Down Memory Lane

By Andrew Blumetti

As if writing about Skippy from Family Ties and TGIF hasn’t dated me much so far, I’m certain the following will surely peg me as an ancient McNugget lovin’ dinosaur, cobwebs intact.

(insert semi-horrible Andy Rooney impression here… but without the messy desk)

With the seemingly never-ending onslaught of new-fangled gizmos and gadgets readily available today, every grade-school scamp is virtually a walking Best Buy store with a backpack.  If an Apple a day keeps the doctor away, these tweens will live to be nearly a day short of one-hundred.

You have your fancy I-this and your spiffy I-that.  Geez cheese Louise, they’re so tethered to their modern electronics, the only thing that you don’t see follow the “I” is “played outside after school with my friends“.

(end impression here.)

Now, I may only be a child of the 80’s—  a simpler time of a feathery-haired Tony Danza, infinite cans of Aqua Net, and the gravity-defying locks of A Flock of Seagulls, but rest assured, it’s a cold, cold realization that smacks you square in the jaw when even my generation is starting to sound curmudgeonly.

Even in said decade, growing up in the New Jersey suburbs, there was a wealth of fun activities to occupy a young boy’s time on a sunny summer afternoon–  endless games of stickball in the park, weaving in and out of local traffic on your bike, impressing the schoolgirls with the newest skateboarding tricks (or more specifically, “falling off a skateboard”), or perhaps a refreshing dip in a friend’s heavily-chlorined pool was the ideal way to spend your time.

Amongst all that classic-American fun in the sun, certain days really stood out from the others.  Most specifically, being told that an afternoon trip to McDonald’s was being planned, simple as it sounds, now that was a reason to celebrate.

Sure, the sizzling golden fries were soaked in pure saturated happiness, and the Happy Meal box was filled with LEGO sets that were practically as good as gone by the time we got to the table, but going to Mickey-D’s included one other added attraction, one that wasn’t deep fried or dunked in honey mustard…

An innocent land of child-like whimsy and wonder… OR IS IT????

————————–

Sadly, most current McDonald’s locations don’t feature these outlandish relics anymore–  A 4,000 square foot outdoor play-area, not much different than any standard cookie-cutter park playground, but decked-out in classic McDonald’s decor, all topped off with all the behavioral calmness of Lord of the Flies (or Fries?) on speed.

It was a barbarous marriage of the trippy universe of Willy Wonka and the happy-go-lucky freak show that was the advertising campaign of the Golden Arches…   Metal slides, swings, and spinning rides that would get hotter than John Travolta’s spoon in Pulp Fiction on a summer day.  A fantasy playland, covered in french fry smudge marks and more-than-occasional bratty kids in Bum Equipment t-shirts hogging every ride in sight.  This madness was such a blast, it’d require multiple requests from exhausted parents to finally drag their surly kids to finally leave for home.

Fast forward to 2013, and finding a classic McDonald’s outdoor playground is quite the challenging task.   Try as I might, I just can’t place my finger on the reason though…

Perhaps they became too costly to maintain?  The cancellation of the McDonaldland promotion?  Maybe McDonald’s brass considered any kind of exercise offensive?

….or perhaps the real reason McDonaldland Playgrounds ultimately went the way of the dodo is because sunshine-y nostalgic hindsight is clouding our vision of how Rob Zombie-ish that freaky place really was.

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CHAPTER I:  THE PURPLE PEOPLE EATER

Your kids were better off hanging out in real bars instead.

Remember Grimace?

A giant characterless purple blob that pre-dated Barney the Dinosaur.  Yes, he literally pre-dated a freakin’ dinosaur.

The aptly-named Grimace was initially introduced as a nemesis to main clown mascot, Ronald McDonald.  Fast food head-hanchos realized that’s just the most incredibly stupid thing, and went with the slightly less stupid story that he has no story.  Luckily his character was so crappy, no one seemed to care… but much like Freddy Krueger, he would eventually have his revenge… ON YOUR CHILDREN.

In this ominous Buffalo Bill-esque prison, Grimace forced many innocent kiddies to put the lotion in the basket.  How this thing is better than a real jail is beyond me.

“Thanks for eating our cheeseburgers, kids.  Now get inside this weird purple thing’s torso.”

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CHAPTER II:  JAILHOUSE CROCK

No amount of bathtubs could make you feel clean after this.

Apparently, the McDonald’s brain-trust figured nothing struck a chord with kids like jails, cause here was another one–  “Officer Big Mac”, a big giant novelty cheeseburger decked out in a nifty constable uniform who would one day be destined to become a torture pit for youths.

His main job was to pursue the Hamburglar, a ground beef-thief who decided it was wise to wear his prison stripes outside of prison and pilfer your cholesterol away from you.

After looking at this ominous death trap, one wouldn’t have to scratch their head too long to wonder why Officer Big Mac isn’t flashing his once-famous buns around anymore.  Speaking as someone who isn’t crazy about heights or tight, enclosed spaces (the dirty, slippery, kid-crowded ladder inside this godforsaken thing was nothing short of a living nightmare straight out of Jacob’s Ladder), I avoided this hepatitis-covered abyss the way Neil Patrick Harris avoids women.

Jokes on you, smiling Caucasian children— this time the burger eats you!

 

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CHAPTER III: DAYLIGHT ROBBERY

At least Calista Flockhart found work somewhere.

Rumor has it there’s a deleted scene in the special edition of Saw IV that features this pupil-less Hamburglar’s rusted swings of death, but the MPAA deemed it was too disturbing to achieve an R-rating.

He’s got a Jack Skellington-ish suit, a Jack Skellington-ish body, and contains just the right amount of uneasy to make Tim Burton smile, but don’t be fooled, this boney burger boob simply ain’t any fun.  Just make sure to pour out your Dr. Pepper on the sidewalk as a tribute to all the fallen suburban homies who tragically faceplanted while getting off of this wretched thing.

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CHAPTER IV:  SOMETHING’S FISHY…

For hippies, this was known as the “Fillet ‘O Phish”.

This underwater treasure was the thing you were forced to play on when everything more fun was being occupied.  Yes, when standing inside the Grimace jail was too exciting, this became the last resort of the desperate fast food playgrounder.

Being a fish is a wild ride.  It’s freedom personified… something we as humans will never be able to fully appreciate or relate to.  You spend your entire life in the magnificent deep blue sea, travel in schools, and gracefully glide your vibrant scaly body amongst the endless coral, the flowing greenery, and the vivid rainbows that compose your fellow sea-brethren–  it’s stunning peace and Studio-54-ish chaos all in one felt aquatic swoop. 

Then one random day, you spy a tasty worm just ripe for the picking…  the next thing you know, there’s a hook in your stupid cheek, and you end up a processed square patty with a slice of room-temperature kinda-cheese on you, stuck on a bun at McDonald’s to be sold in a pair for three bucks.

True, it’s not necessarily the most dignified fate, but man, imagine being the ride based on that sandwich?

Fish, burger… heck, they all look the same in McDonaldland.

Meet the “Filet-o-Fish” ride, a humdrum bouncy piece of junk that didn’t even bounce properly.

Look familiar?  You may remember this weirdo as the chestbuster that burst out of Ripley’s stomach while your were nodding off at the end of Alien ^3. 

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CHAPTER V:  HOW BIZARRRRRRRRRRRE

Don’t laugh. The Burger King’s corpse is buried under this thing.

No list of forgotten McDonald’s mascots would be complete without nefarious swashbuckler, Captain Crook, the one Mc-imbecile who actually wanted to ride the bouncy fish seat.

A two-bit pirate with a soft spot for both thievery and seafood, this seafaring counterpart to the Hamburglar was yet another immoral advertising idea who wanted to snag your salty food while your back was turned.  That’s so absurd, even the Oakland Raiders mascot is pointing and laughing,

Of course, since the McDonaldland Playground was missing a slide, they kindly threw Crook a bone.  If avoiding the child Mcvomit at the bottom wasn’t taxing enough, battling the derelicts walking up the slide the wrong way was nothing short of the final battle in 300. 

Look at his face.  That tells you everything you need to know about this thing.  Raise your hand if you’d have rather walked the plank into a sea of blood-thirsty sharks instead.

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CHAPTER VI:  “I BELIEVE I CAN FRY”

This was known as “The ride you sat on while you waited for some greasy porker to get off the swings.”

There’s a point when it’s painfully clear you’re just flat out of original ideas.

When Steve Urkel began endlessly cloning himself, we knew Family Matters was ready to mercifully be put down, or when Home Alone 3 hit theaters with an entire new cast, the planet shifted off axis as a nation simultaneously rolled their eyes at the offensive shark-jumping.

…and on that dubious note, I present to you, The Fry Guys.

Originally named “The Goblins” (cause they’re “gobblin’ up” your fries- hey, good one!), these are basically cheerleader pom-poms with volleyball-sized eyes that stare straight into your soul.  So, basically all of the aspects of cheerleading and volleyball that don’t involve the attractive women.

Yes, this is starting to sound like a quite obvious pattern.  Between the Hamburglar, Crook, and these walking Koosh balls, McDonald’s figured the most effective marketing method was to make you believe your recently-purchased food for would be stolen away from you by moronic mascots.  Diagnosis:  Mc-agita.

To McDonald’s credit, they created a playground ride that aptly matched the excitement of The Fry Guys.

Blumes note:  No hands, yet they purchased shoes with laces instead of Velcro.  Poor shopping choice, Fry Guys.

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CHAPTER VII:  SEE, I’M NOT A MONSTER, I’M JUST AHEAD OF THE CURVE

WHITEST. GUY. EVER.

RONALD McDONALD’S CONFESSION LETTER:

To Whom It May Concern,

I, Ronald McDonald, or “Ron” as I wish to be called, hereby admit to the number of charges of being a colossal creep, even by clown standards. 

First off, I am not even Scottish, it just rhymes with “Ronald”.  Secondly, this is not my natural hair color, I have been hoping to score the part of Little Orphan Annie in an off-Broadway theatrical run of Annie. 

Most importantly, I apologize for my maniacal thousand-yard stare, constant serial killer smile, and the fact you’ll see me in your sleep the way you heard creaks and squeaks for weeks following a viewing of Paranormal Activity.  When the borderline psychotic Burger King king was still the second-most terrifying fast-food corporate spokesman, I know I did something wrong.

Oh yeah, I also killed Waldo and stole his shirt.  He’s buried and decaying under the Hamburglar swing. 

See you in your nightmares,

Ronald McDonald

P.S.–  I also peed in the all the McFlurry machines in Michigan. 
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Hey kid-  If this is true, your dreams stink. 

 

The preceding is a work of parody, and I do not own any of the photos used.  Except for the Fry Guy ones… I’m making a t-shirt out of that bad boy.