I didn’t intend on taking nearly two months off here. Y’see, my Wi-Fi, which had been spotty at best anyway, went, as you would say, totally kerblooey. This of course inhibited new updates on my silly little blog.
That wasn’t the only reason, however. There’s also this coronavirus pandemic going on. (Maybe you’ve heard of it?)
No, I didn’t catch the thing. Still, given the stay-at-home order that has been in effect here since March, and thus the fact that I can’t really go anywhere, you’d think I’d have more than enough time sit around and write stupid dumb blog updates. I mean, my internet wasn’t bad the whole time…
(Of course, I’d much rather stay at home than risk catching the virus – and more importantly, spreading it to someone else. Still, the reopening of retail stores on the 12th will be welcome, even if it does mean I’ll probably have to wear a stupid mask while out in public. Although, it’ll be nice to have a reason to be antisocial for once.)
Despite frequent walks around the neighborhood, I’ve stayed pretty much in my abode. And yet, I’ve remained busy enough. Not wanting to sit around and do nothing all day, I instead took this opportunity to dig through many, many boxes, bags and bins of old childhood crap junk memories. Ostensibly it was in an effort to organize, but really, I just wanted to unearth “neat old stuff.” You know, things that should be properly preserved, or at least as properly as I can, uh, preserve them.
This was no small feat, and the amount of dusty, dirty, back-breakin’ diggin’ an’ liftin’ I had to do wasn’t exactly my idea of good time party fun. It was pretty time consuming too, as you may well imagine. And yet, I enjoyed the process! The constant discovery of new old things wound up being pretty addicting! I’ve gone through the vast majority of it all now, and honestly, I’m a little disappointed there’s not more to explore!
Toys, games, magazines, books, knickknacks, papers, even clothes, I dug through plenty of it all. Often, while uncovering some item, the memories came flooding back. Other times, it was like I was looking at a foreign object. Hey, my memory is good, but it’s not photographic.
So, now that I’m back in action, what say you join me on a little journey down memory lane? I’m not naive; much of this will be important to only me, but since I bank on my viewership being mostly comprised of people with nothing better to do (raging pandemic or not), hey, at least it’ll be a time killer.
Oh, and this is by no means the totality of what I uncovered. Not by a long shot. Furthermore, this stuff ain’t in strict chronological order, though certain entries will follow naturally from others whenever I decide to hamfistedly attempt a narrative.
Prepare now to take a trip into the psyche of your Northeast Ohio Video Hunter. What makes him tick? What makes him him? Partial, potentially unsatisfying (not to mention long winded) answers are forthcoming!
Found just two days ago, the Blockbuster Entertainment Guide to Movies and Videos 1998 was the very first movie guide book I could call my own.
In the summer of 1997, I had discovered at my local library the then-latest Leonard Maltin movie guide on their shelves. Being a reference book, I was unable to check it out, and as such I wound up greatly anticipating subsequent trips to the ‘bary to further peruse the book. As a young movie buff, it was a wondrous tome; what did he like? What did he not? What could I discover? What did he score my favorite flick(s)? The internet and endless movie reviews – amateur or otherwise – in the following years kinda took away the usefulness of such books, but at the time Maltin’s guides were indispensable, and I still carry a hefty heap of nostalgia for them.
So why wasn’t a copy of Maltin the first personal guide to become mine? Well, as I recall it, mom promised me a copy for good grades or something (hey, I was in 5th grade!), and on the fateful day when it came time to make good on the promise, I was presented with the choice of not only Maltin’s document, but Blockbuster’s as well (along with a few other choices, which were and are still good, but not conducive to this particular recollection otherwise). Such was the power in the Blockbuster name brand at the time that I was torn; Maltin was already my trusted source, but surely the top purveyors of video entertainment would be an authority of such matters too! You can see what my ultimate decision was.
Did I choose wisely? Well, uh, not really. I have no idea if such things were present before or after, but this 1998 edition was riddled with errors that were obvious to even my young eyes. My favorite example: Godzilla vs. Mothra being listed as a 1964 *French* film. While the idea of ‘Zilla and Mothra sluggin’ it out with the Eiffel Tower as backdrop is undoubtedly delightful, it just wasn’t correct.
I rectified my mistake when the next annual movie guide editions came out, but I can’t help feeling some fondness for my Blockbuster book nevertheless. It may have been spotty fact-wise, but like I said, the chain was an absolute force at the time.
Next we have The Harlem Globetrotters: World 
Tour for the Game Boy Advance, still minty sealed fresh and with Big Deals stickers plastered on it. Evidently Deals couldn’t give it away at the bargain price of $5, so it was marked down even further to a mere $3. I honestly have zero recollection of ever getting this game, and it may actually belong to my brother, in which case, hey Luke, come an’ get it!
Obviously this isn’t a terribly old acquisition, but had you asked me beforehand if this resided somewhere in residence, I’d have scoffed and then given you a curt “NAY.”
Since it has never been opened, it has, needless to say, also never been played. I almost certainly never played it elsewhere, either. Apparently it was/is considered quite terrible, and as such, that sticker proclaiming it plays on the DS and DSLite handhelds reads more like a threat than anything. I take joy in imagining that Deals couldn’t even collect less than an Abraham Lincoln on these and just started throwing them in the bags with the other respective purchases customers were making, preferably on the sly. That’s honestly more believable when it comes to guessing how it actually came into my possession, anyway. That’d be a pretty funny customer complaint: “I didn’t want this dumb game! No, I *don’t* care if it was free!”
Probably hailing from about 1990, these knock-off Batman knickknacks are a sure sign of not only what an absolute phenomenon the 1989 movie was, but what a bonafide Batmaniac I was. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ghostbusters and Batman, those were the big three for adolescent me.
While obviously capitalizing on the Bat-hype rampant at the time, you’ll notice that the logo is (I presume) just different enough to (hopefully?) avoid any legal entanglements. It’s not the Bat signal, it’s just a, uh, bat.
I have no idea where exactly these came from, but they’re obviously of the dime store variety. Still, they were Batman-related, and as such, something I needed in my simple little life.
Our line-up: a yellow ninja star-esque throwin’ object adorned with suction cups, a tiny, green, probably unusable even back then yo-yo, a red badge (the tiny lip on the back looks like it’d hang off a kid’s shirt pocket, at least until a mild breeze came by and knocked it off), a pink I-don’t-know-what (something on the back has long since broken off; I assume it was a clip, thus making this a cheap pin, but I guess it could’ve been a handle, making it a shield accessory for legit Batman toys – a scenario that is pretty baller when I think about it), and an orange get-the-ball-in-the-slot game watch, with bands so brittle that, as you can see, one has been lost to time.
The watch I actually uncovered over a year ago, but the others were all finds from my recent digs. What’s funny is I remembered the logo on these, but couldn’t have told you what actual items it could be found on until I, erm, found them. I’m pretty nuts about these though, and each new discovery was a moment of exhilaration for yours truly. Such a cool example of little me and my obsession with Batperson. They now all reside in a little wooden keepsake box appropriately deemed the “Bat Box” by no one but me.
I don’t know if these five items comprise a complete collection of all that I had, it’s reasonable to assume one or more similar Batfakes meeting their demise over the years, but they’re all I’ve found and I know not where else I can look. Heck, I don’t even know what to call the “line,” or how to search for it. At any rate, I love what I’ve got here; as weird as it may sound, these alone made all my searching worthwhile.
Old, unopened, sugar free pistachio-flavored 
Jell-O pudding. Yes, really. No, it hasn’t been sitting around since my formative years. Rather, this is something I found back in probably 2007, maybe give or take a year either way.
Where’d it come from? From the food shelves of a “salvage” store. The other ostensible edibles there were quite possibly of questionable age anyway, but this, nestled amongst other varieties of Jell-O, it was immediately evident that this box was of a graphic style no longer in production. The font just looked old, perhaps even 1980s old. Irrationally tickled that such a thing could survive to the then-present day, and out for actual sale at that, I plunked down however much the asking price was and happily trotted home with my expired puddin’ dessert, never actually intending to eat it.
(Wait, does Jell-O ever even go bad?)
I rediscovered this box months and months ago, pre-coronavirus and during a different excavation search, and even if it wasn’t expired back when I first got it, it undoubtedly is now. I still have no idea how old it actually is though; the lack of a web address anywhere on the packaging is a pretty good indicator that it’s of somewhat impressive age. It appears that “30 JAN90D6” is stamped on one side of the box – can I assume that means January 30, 1990? And if so, would that be the expiration date? How long is Jell-O pudding supposed to last in general? Maybe this really is from the 1980s?
In the same foodstuff vein, I now present to you my ancient bottle of Heinz Worcestershire Sauce. Unlike the Jell-O you just delightfully read about, this bottle has been around since my formative years. Indeed, it was never even actually lost, and as such may not technically fit in with the overall theme of this post. But if not now, when? Don’t get me wrong, if I got bored enough I could get an entire update out of this alone, but meh, lets just check this one off now. Besides, the longer this post is, the more impressed you’ll be with my literary skillz. Right?
Here’s the story: this bottle of Worcestershire (I’ve never been so grateful to have the ability to copy-and-paste as I am right now with that word) Sauce is nearly as old as I am, which is now over the 30 year mark. Is it as old as me? I don’t think so, but it could be. It’s definitely in the same vicinity.
Why does it still exist? Way back in the day, it floated (figuratively not literally HAW HAW HAW) around my parent’s pantry for years; seriously, it eventually became basically a part of the scenery, more of a decoration than something anyone would actually use to cook with. Years went by, and I grew older – as did the Worcestershire Sauce. As I recall it, it was eventually slotted for trashin’ when a long overdue pantry clean was ordered, but I rescued it from such an ignominious demise and have kept it happy and safe ever since.
I know how that preceding paragraph makes me sound, but I promise you, I’m not a hoarder. I’m a collector, and a sentimentalist, but trust me, I’m not in the habit of keeping expired food around. And yet, I just couldn’t let the Worcestershire be junked so many years ago. I think this was due to a few factors. Mainly, because it had been around for as long as I could remember, but also, that label. I mean, just look at the massive steak on that thing! I can probably attribute my lifelong love of steak (and mushrooms, and potatoes) to that graphic alone, and to this day that’s my ideal image of a steak dinner. And indeed, nowadays I love Worcestershire Sauce in general; if it can be added to a recipe, I’m there at the forefront championing its addition. Add it during the preparation of your hamburgers and just tell me it doesn’t enhance the flavor!
The bottle isn’t full, though there is still some liquid in it. The coagulation around the cap tells me it has probably turned into something fairly poisonous, but you know what? I’m still going to liken it to a vintage bottle of wine, something to be treasured, if not actually consumed. (You could point out the fact that vintage wine could still be consumed if one so desired, but I request that you don’t.)
You know, I now realize that in pursuit of honesty, this entire section of the article makes me sound like a crazy person. Maybe I should have stuck rigidly to the theme and omitted it? Oh well, the Worcestershire Sauce is in the bottle and the cat is out of the bag now.
Back to the non-edibles. As I mentioned 
earlier, There was Batman and Ghostbusters, and then there was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It’s tough, but those heroes in a half shell may very well have been the definitive pop culture obsessions of my childhood. Toys, video games, books, clothes, never mind the cartoon, those pizza lovin’ dudes were a near constant of formative years. They were, as hip kids say, radical and totally righteous.
So when the first big screen movie came out in 1990, it stands to reason that I considered it something of a cultural event. A watershed touchstone? Sure, why not. What you’re seeing here are two of the promotional items foisted upon the children of America during the insane hype that was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie. On the upper left: a pin, with a shot taken from the campfire scene. That’s Mikey and Don, lookin’ all nonchalant despite the amounts of pain they were capable of doling out. On the lower right: Raph and Leo share a brotherly moment in a shot that I think comes from after Raph had been revived following a severe beat down.
Both items are still technically usable, the pin more so than the keychain, which has cracked and was dutifully covered in tape by yours truly somewhere down the line. Nevertheless, both are absolute powerhouses of nostalgia for me (especially the keychain, because it features Raphael, who we all know was the superior turtle).
I remember, back in the early-90s, an entire wall in Sears (or maybe it was JC Penney?) being dedicated to smaller TMNT items such as these. As I recall it, it was located in the vicinity of the shoes, and if the turtles’ faces could be plastered on it, it was there. We’re talking shoelaces and the like, in addition to the stuff like what you’re seeing above.
While certainly emblematic of the TMNT movie fervor I had at the time, these were far from the only items I had spotlighting that 1990 debut movie; somewhere I have a giant cardboard standup of all four turtles. It has not as yet been recovered, and I sure hope it hasn’t disintegrated into a mildewed pile of sadness. That would be decidedly not righteous.
(My dad took me to see the movie in the theater. I vaguely recall arriving a little late and later spilling some of the green TMNT-esque drink. Loved the movie though, and you know, I think it holds up better today than it has any right to – though in the interest of full disclosure, I’m looooong overdue for a rewatch. It’s been years!)
The Ninja Turtles weren’t my only cinematic obsession of 1990, however. TMNT found a natural place in my heart due to already being a fan of the franchise. My other movie hero of 1990 was, on the surface, a bit more inexplicable though, and his name was Dick Tracy.
Played by Milton Armitage Warren Beatty, 1990’s Dick Tracy was aggressively marketed to kids, and in my case, it worked. Big time. For a period there, I was all about that copper and his sunshiny bright yella coat. Dutifully, we all went to see it at the drive-in; I recall falling asleep at some point later in the flick, but that wasn’t a commentary on the quality of the film (I was too young to judge, and truth be told, I haven’t seen the movie since then – but I want to, because it absolutely looks like something I’d love nowadays).
Beyond the movie itself was a promotional blitz that, in retrospect, seems sorta unlikely for a comic strip character that was hardly a beacon of “hip” to kids my age beforehand. I’ve read that it was intended to mimic the Batman ballyhoo of the summer prior, and even if it wasn’t ultimately as successful, it certainly seemed comparable in terms of all-encompassing hype. Like I said, it worked big time in my case.
The two pins you’re seeing above are just two small parts of that blitz. The button in the lower right, it’s just the expected Dick Tracy logo that was plastered on pretty much everything at the time. (Even today, TMNT notwithstanding, that logo screams “1990” to me in a way that few other things can.) The pin in the upper left, well, it’s missing the actual pin part on the back, but it’s shaped like a badge, and declaring the wearer to be a “Junior Detective.” I’d seriously consider keeping that one in my wallet if I didn’t think I’d get busted for impersonating a cop and providing the world’s most embarrassing rap sheet. Dick Tracy wouldn’t approve of that.
I fear it’s long, long gone by now, but I’d sure LOVE to find one of the cards from McDonald’s Dick Tracy Crime Stoppers game. I had one, but I haven’t seen it in decades. That, to me, would be more emblematic than anything of the Dick Tracy mania that swept 1990.
The promotional blitz didn’t end there, though…
No, this isn’t an official Dick Tracy item, but in
my world, it’s related, and it’s something I was quite happy to rediscover recently. Lemme explain…
In conjunction with the movie came the expected line of toys. Such things were beyond commonplace by 1990; it would have been weirder if they hadn’t released a corresponding toy line! Put out by Playmates, the same folks behind the fantastic line of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures, Dick Tracy and his fellow cast of characters were immortalized in plastic.
Like TMNT, the line was brilliantly detailed, with some of the villains being pretty accurate toy recreations of their disgusting big screen counterparts. Indeed, from looks to scale, these figures would have fit right in the Ninja Turtle world, and while I personally don’t recall doing so, it’s easy to imagine other kids taking advantage of that. The line certainly never achieved the same long running success as the Turtles did, but it was pretty decent for what it was…
…Except for one aspect that burnt me up then, and still puzzles me now: THE DICK TRACY FIGURE DIDN’T HAVE A YELLOW RAINCOAT! How on earth do you make a Dick Tracy action figure and then omit his most recognizable aspect?! It boggles mah mind! Oh, he had the hat alright, but the sensible suit that made up the figure’s attire otherwise just didn’t cut it, man. Not then, and not now. And what makes things even more inexplicable is that Playmates released a Donatello action figure with a raincoat – that very same year!
Anyway, thanks to what I assume was incessant badgering on my part, mom took pity on me and actually sewed a proper yellow coat out of felt for my Dick Tracy action figure! Thanks, ma! Naturally, that’s what you’re looking at above. Actually, for reasons now forgotten, she sewed me two of ’em; I came across the other during my recent digs, but stupidly didn’t put it aside like I did this second one. I don’t have the stamina go digging again just for that, so this coat above will have to represent all on its own. (They were both pretty much the same, and nobody but me cares about any of this anyway.)
Such things were (are) typical of mom, even with something that in the grand scheme of things is of zero importance. But really, even she must’ve realized you just don’t make a Dick Tracy action figure without the yellow raincoat. You. Just. Don’t. Do. It.
Oh was I happy to find this one; I had been on the hunt for it for well over a year, but I never expected to find it buried among old high school junk. It wasn’t the only surprising find in that batch either; there were some TV Guides that, like this book, I thought were in one specific place but actually, erm, weren’t.
The Kid’s Guide to Home Computers hails from 1983, but that’s not when I got it – I wasn’t born yet! And no, it didn’t come from a thrift store, garage sale or what have you, either.
Nope, I actually got this ‘new’, albeit well, well after it was even remotely current. It was at some store inside of Chapel Hill Mall, I recall it as a Big Lots-styled, closeout type place, but I could be wrong on that. Actually, I could be wrong on it being at Chapel Hill, too; that particular part of my memory has faded. BUT, I do absolutely recall seeing it on a rack along with others books/magazines, and this wasn’t an oldies rack. I mean, if this was a closeout store, maybe they were, but even so, The Kid’s Guide… stood out to me. How it got to where it was and lasted there as long as it did, I do not know. But I’m sure glad it waited around for me!
By then, I was certainly already familiar with the Atari 2600 console, and I believe I was familiar with both the Intellivision and Odyssey 2 too (albeit only via old print advertisements at that point). So, I’ll say I picked this book up around 1995 or 1996. Maybe even ’97, but that seems a little too late. We’ll stick with mid-90s and leave it at that.
I was already a sucker for retro gaming then, though I’m not sure most of it was old enough to be considered “retro” just yet. In those pre-internet-as-we-now-know-it years, this book was an absolute revelation. If the pages within weren’t my first actual introductions to the ColecoVision, Atari 5200, and Atari 8-bit computer line, then they were certainly my first real introductions. As you may surmise from the title of the book, the proceedings lean heavily on the “home computer” side of the equation, as opposed to the “home video game console.” Of course, since nearly all of the home video game consoles at the time were trying to be home computers in some form, there was quite a bit of overlap, and it was fantastic to read all about it.
The book is an absolute time capsule, with chapters on choosing a PC, the various hardware and software out there, even upcoming titles. Most of the major players in the industry are represented, and even a few that, at least now, may not be considered major.
I absolutely poured over all this back in the day, and despite clearly being aimed at kids (as you, uh, gleamed from the title) in writing style and length, it covers a lot of bases. A sign of the times: the Atari 5200 controller was considered an improvement over the 2600 joystick. (And at least on paper, that was true!) Also, this was where I first learned that M*A*S*H had been turned into an Atari 2600 game! Neato!
Okay, sure, technically there’s nothing in this book that can’t be learned online nowadays, but as a snapshot of gaming/home computing in the early-80s, I consider it indispensable. And I’m never letting it get lost again.
Undoubtedly you’re asking yourself right this moment “say, what’s with that swell gem-shaped rock y’all got there, North Video Guy?” And to that I reply “pump the brakes Ace, I’ll explain.” (Seriously, haven’t you been paying attention? I always explain!)
This wasn’t a store-bought acquisition. At one point during my earliest of years, I wanted a “gem.” Why or what kind of gem, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I could have given you a decent explanation even back then, either.
So anyway, my dad took a rock, and polished into the smooth, gem-like shape you’re seeing now. Thanks, pa!
Like so many of the smaller pieces in my childhood ‘stuff’, the gem/rock/thing floated around (figuratively not literally HAW HAW HAW) the house for years, at one point being colored red with crayon (except for some edge chips that you can just barely see in this pic, this was eventually cleaned off), and ultimately being boxed/bagged/whatevered up until I uncovered it during my archaeological dig some weeks ago. It was immediately set aside, because you know, I still really like the gem rock (I’ve decided that’s its official name, “gem rock”). As a childhood trinket, its nostalgia is powerful.
(Of course, I doubt anyone else anywhere would care all that much about it, and truthfully I don’t have a ton more to say about it here; I mean, what do you want? It’s a rock polished into the shape of a generic gem! I gave you its history, so what more can I say? Nothing’s ever enough for you, is it?)
I think you’d have to be of a certain age to really appreciate the ubiquitous LCD handheld video games Tiger Electronics released in the 1980s and 1990s. These things were everywhere; a seemingly countless number arcade or console games, movies, cartoons and sports received dedicated Tiger handheld adaptations. I mean, MC Hammer and Full House even had handhelds! (As a TGIF kid, there’s a good chance you’ll hear me flipping out from wherever you happen to be should I find that Full House somewhere. And minus the whole TGIF aspect, the same goes for MC Hammer too, come to think of it. Also, now’s as good a time as any to mention that it saddens me that Urkel and/or Family Matters never received a Tiger LCD game adaptation.)
Of course, even those that grew up with them tend to admit that they really weren’t very good. Even compared to other single game handhelds like those by Nintendo (Game & Watch!) or Konami (or at least their TMNT games were pretty decent), the Tigers could come up a little short in the gameplay department – even with the diminished expectations that inherently come with a single game LCD.
So why was I so happy to see that they’re being revived? Nostalgia, I suppose. I loved these things back then – even after I had a Game Boy. Cheap and cheesy as they might have been, there was something oddly special about them at the time – and that something may or may not translate to modern times, even for those that grew up with them originally. I don’t know, maybe I innately sensed that the single game set-up and dedicated marquee-like graphics recalled the coin-ops that were still so prevalent at the time? (Actually, I started that thought fully intending to be a smarty pants, except I then remembered that Tiger ran commercials in the late-80s specifically touting the arcade-in-yo’-pocket aspect of these things. In other words, initial smarty pants reaction or not, subconsciously I guess I wasn’t too far off!)
Indeed, when I learned of the revival, I looked around for one that was worthy of specifically reviewing. I obviously never made the plunge, though Street Fighter II was a serious candidate for about 12 seconds (until I played it and couldn’t decide if some of the controls were broken or if that’s just how it was supposed to play.)
SO ANYWAY, that all played into my being pleased when these two childhood examples were rediscovered during my ‘ronavirus-sourced searchin’. Ninja Gaiden II and Sonic the Hedgehog 2, as you can see. Look close and you’ll notice that the screen in Ninja Gaiden II has been smashed beyond repair (?), which is just a real shame. Sonic 2 still plays fine though.
Indeed, my want and anticipation of Sonic 2 was unbelievable at the time. I wouldn’t own a Sega Genesis for a year or two more when I first got it, but I had already become a Sonic fan nevertheless, via the not one but two cartoon series centered around him. For a period, I was all Sonic all the time, despite natively being a Nintendo kid and not owning any actual Sonic games yet. While ultimately a prime example of Tiger translations of ‘real’ video games not exactly living up to the originals, my yearning for this Sonic 2 back then was unprecedented, and comparable to my wanting of whatever Game Boy title was currently on my radar. I played the heck out of it too – it held the Sonic fort until I got the real Sonic 2 some time later.
Oh, and during my searching, I also found Tiger handheld renditions of Batman Returns and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Dimension X Assault (which seemed like somewhat of a novelty to me back then, not only because it talked but also because Konami released the previous TMNT 
LCDs). I knew automatically that these actually belonged to my brother, and when I sent him a text asking if I could have them or if he actually wanted them back, he replied in the affirmative regarding the latter. I was somewhat disappointed in this response, and that leads me to this interlude.
Here, flanked by those two Tiger handhelds that have been begrudged me, as well as a Pocket Rocker, is Imperial’s King Kong figure. The sad (for me) fact of the matter was that as I dug through all this childhood stuff, I wasn’t finding only my crap, but stuff belonging to my brother as well. He didn’t want all of it back, but the stuff in this picture, he did. The two handhelds, I understand it, those were staples of his childhood, I get it. And the Pocket Rocker was gifted to him by some relative one long ago Christmas, so I get that, too. (What I don’t get is why he got the cool Pocket Rocker, since I was the one who remembered the commercials; IT AIN’T FAIR. I mean, *I* want an almost immediately worthless music playin’ device, too!)
I was really hoping I could finagle that King Kong out of him though. He didn’t go for it, and that hurts me deep. And after I went through the trouble of locating his stupid stuffed Wiley Ewok thing, too! Thas gradditood fo’ ya!
(Of course I kid. Or do I? You decide!)
I thought for sure I had written about these old Big Chuck & Lil’ John stickers before; maybe I had and the post is just no longer up. I do that sometimes. Either way, during my digs I came across a stray example, and despite already having a number of them ‘in their place’, I was pretty derned happy to rescue yet another, because believe it or not, they’re actually some of my favorite pieces of BC&LJ memorabilia.
(I actually came across precious little material regarding Northeast Ohio’s horror hosts during my searches, which is both good cause that means I’ve already got most of it preserved and bad because I, erm, want more. Oh, I found a few bits besides this sticker here, but more is always better.)
These stickers hail from around 2000/2001. They were freebies at the Fox 8 store in Summit Mall. (Yes, a local channel had their own store in a mall; it was honestly pretty cool, and I wish I’d taken even more advantage of it than I did.) I can’t remember if it was beforehand or if it was when I met Big Chuck & Lil’ John for the very first time in person in the summer of 2001 (just before I entered high school), but there were a whole bunch of these stickers (in a basket on the checkout counter, if I recall correctly), and they let us take a handful.
Hailing from where and when it does, this is just such a terrific example of Northeast Ohio broadcasting at the time. I mean, You’ve got Big Chuck & Lil’ John, who are indisputably local legends, and you’ve got the mention of them following another local institution, The Drew Carey Show. Although it wasn’t (normally) filmed there, Drew himself is a Cleveland icon, and the sitcom was set there, so naturally The Drew Carey Show was a fairly big deal around these parts.
It’s hard to explain what a piece of the cultural landscape Drew’s show was in the late-90s and early-00s, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Everything stopped for the new episodes on ABC on Wednesday nights, and then Drew’s Whose Line is it Anyway?, and of course the syndicated episodes that were airing multiple times a day on channel 8.
The very fact that a Big Chuck & Lil’ John sticker plays into all of that makes it an indispensable part of my collection, no matter how many times over.
You may notice that this particular copy of the sticker is in a protective card case. No, I didn’t find it that way; rather, whilst digging, I also came across two of the only remaining Pokemon cards I own, both contained back-to-back in said protective case. Since Chuck & John trump Charizard any day, out went the cards and in went the sticker – though truth be told, I made the switch mainly just because it amused me.
I’m seriously considering having both Chuck and John sign the back of the sticker if I bother to go to the next Ghoulardifest, and if I could get Drew to sign it too at some point, well, that’d be pretty amazing.
Speaking of autographs, here’s something I 
found that I had no recollection of ever having, though I do remember the meeting itself.
You’re looking at the autograph of one Don “Action” Jackson, who until recently was one of *the* DJs at WMJI 105.7 FM. He was recently laid off during that iHeart Radio restructuring or whatever it was, and that’s a genuine shame. Not only was Action Jackson ever present during the years in which I was forming my musical tastes (thanks largely due to his station), but he was just a terrific DJ in general – energetic, entertaining, and in no way deserving of such an unceremonious exit.
Anyway, I met him in 2002, at the opening of some store somewhere. (A Giant Eagle, I think? Or maybe a Sam’s Club? I ain’t recall.) That’s obviously where this autograph came from, signed on the back of a “United We Stand” bumper sticker (it was the months following 9/11, after all).
And as luck would have it, he was also giving out Moondog concert tickets as prizes, should you be able to answer four of the performers appearing at the show that year. The guy next to me blanked, but I nailed three of them before blanking on the fourth. I did recall the opening, warm-up act though, so I took a chance, and that was enough to net me two free tickets to the Magic Moondog Coronation Ball 2002. Which leads me to this…
I already kinda knew where this Moondog ’02 program was, it wasn’t really a rediscovery here, but it still needed liberated, so here we are. This program was, of course, the result of my ticket win. My brother and I both went, and I’m not sure about him, but I do believe this was the first real concert I ever attended. Unless you count the KISS tribute band in the parking lot of High Point Furniture, which I don’t.
(What, I treat you to a free, memory-makin’ Moondog concert and you can’t toss that King Kong figure my way, bro? UNBELIEVABLE.)
The Moondog, held annually for years starting in 1992, commemorated Alan Freed’s original Moondog show of 1952, generally considered the first legitimate Rock & Roll concert. 2002 happened to be the 50th anniversary of all that.
The guest line-up on the first page of the program gives you a good idea of what the Moondog consisted of for a number of years. Namely,1950s and 1960s acts, and man, 2002 didn’t disappoint. (Partners in Rhyme, an a cappella group, was the opening act that inadvertently won me the tickets; thanks guys!) Not a dud in the bunch, and one of them (Lesley Gore) is no longer with us. As a first concert experience and a lover of 50s and 60s pop/rock (then and now), it was tough to beat! I specifically remember Gary Puckett’s vocals absolutely shaking the arena.
(And yet, the best Moondog I ever saw was in 2011: The Grass Roots, a few months before Rob Grill died, Eric Burdon of The Animals, whose voice was still unbelievable, The Spinners, who put on a fantastic grand finale-type performance in the middle of the concert, Felix Cavaliere & The Rascals, and headliners America. I mean, I love all of those acts, and aside from the fact it was tough for anyone to follow The Spinners’ showstopper, it’s one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen by someone not named Bruce Springsteen. 2012 was good too but just couldn’t compare, and I haven’t made it to a Moondog since. Actually, I don’t think they’ve even had them for the last few years, which is pretty sad.)
Time for some more Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles memorabilia. 
This one, I had already found an empty tube some time beforehand, and then I found another during the recent searching. Which one is this? Does it even really matter? Stop being so needlessly arbitrary, you! They’re both the same!
(Yeah, like I have any room to be criticizing anybody for being arbitrary!)
Put out in conjunction with 1991’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze, this was a tube of “Squeeze & Lick Lollipop,” as per the now-empty tube you’re seeing to your right. It was really just a fruit-flavored gel, though I recall it being tasty enough. I question the look of anger on Raph’s face as he samples it though; what, if it ain’t pizza it ain’t good?
It’s tough to say when TMNT mania among kids reached its peak. I’d cautiously posit 1990/1991, though. You had the cartoon with three years under its belt, an endless amount of merchandise (toy, game, clothing, food, you name it), and now two live-action movies. Oh, and a live concert tour that featured a promotional appearance on Oprah. That happened too. The early years of the 90s really did belong to the Turtles, at least where kids were concerned. This empty tube does a decent enough job of representing that era all on its own, if you ask me.
I didn’t, and don’t, think the sequel quite topped the first movie in terms of quality, though I will say the second flick did achieve something approaching a microcosm of early-90s kids’ pop culture. Or something like that. Vanilla Ice performing “Ninja Rap” just may be the definitive summation of 1991 when it comes to the world of children at the time. Of course, I’m biased; I was there for it as it happened. My perception may very well (and almost certainly is) skewed.
This follows, cause Ninja Turtles, pizza, ya dig?
Found in a bag of random papers and whatnot, this is an original flyer for Pizza Pan, a local chain that was, as you can see, “home of the free pizza.” I can’t believe this survived to the present day, and even crumpled and a little torn (I’m trying to flatten it out as best I can right now), it’s a find I’m pretty happy to have had.
Here’s how it worked: have a pizza delivered, and you got one free. Pick it up yourself, and you got two free. As seen here, the same deal applied to their ribs. With an offer like that, there’s naturally going to be some buzz, and for awhile there in the early/mid-00s, Pizza Pan was aggressively pushed locally. Big Chuck & Lil’ John themselves even pitched them in commercials, and even their show proper. (Hey, here’s proof!) The push worked, because we certainly sampled their wares more than once.
And then they just seemed to sort of go away. I vaguely recall the free pizza deal being done away with, which, if my memory is correct, is going to hurt business considering that’s what the business was built on. Maybe I’m recalling wrong, though. At any rate, the location nearest us closed, and we never had them again. There’s still a website, though it doesn’t seem to have been updated since 2015, and nearly all of the tabs just lead back to the store locations page – and I’m not sure how many of those are even still open today.
Still, like Mikey and Regency Windows ads (“I’m gonna save you a lotttttta money!”), the promotions for this place were ever present at the time, and for me, an indispensable reminder of that era in Northeast Ohio.
My recent digs weren’t relegated to 
only bags, boxes and bins of childhood crap, however. I’ve also used this unexpected down time to take the opportunity to sift through my vast, VAST video collection, simply to recover long missing tapes that have been on my mental want list for too long.
The tape, from 2005, that you’re seeing here wasn’t the biggest rediscovery, but it’s certainly one that I’d been searching for for quite awhile, and as such pretty representative of the whole project. When I finally unearthed it, the contents weren’t even marked (something that, I’m sad to say, became quite common for me as the 00s dawned).
While an episode of That 70s Show and part of The Simple Life (The Simple Life, boy, I had forgotten all about that garbage) were captured afterwards, the main purpose of this tape was to grab three episodes of Seinfeld that I found particularly brilliant. This was of course before the DVD releases, when the only way to consistently re-watch these was to tape them via syndication. At the time I was a huge Seinfeld fan, and while the truth is the show hasn’t worn all that well for me now, I do indeed still consider these three episodes to be among my favorites:
“The Bizarro Jerry” (season 8, episode 3), in which Elaine falls in with a group of friends who are the polar opposites of Jerry, George, Kramer and Newman, behavior-wise. I’ll never forget just how clever I found the concept the first time I saw the episode. Oh, and “man hands” stems from this ep, too.
“The Merv Griffin Show” (season 9, episode 6), in which Kramer finds the discarded set from the aforementioned show in a dumpster and recreates the program in his apartment. It’s a little surreal, and while the occasional surrealism of the later seasons of Seinfeld have been criticized (even by myself at one point), it’s an aspect that, ironically, holds up better for me now.
“The Frogger” (season 9, episode 18), in which George buys and attempts to keep his high score preserved on an old Frogger coin-op. This one, besides having the usage of a vintage arcade machine as a natural source of interest for yours truly, was one of the first (and only) episodes I saw first run. In the hype surrounding the series finale, I briefly started watching new episodes on NBC, though I didn’t stick with it. Despite the heartbreaking image of a Frogger machine smashed to bits at the episode’s conclusion, there’s still some real nostalgia at play here.
Obviously the tape is pretty worthless now that the uncut, squeaky clean DVDs are readily available, but at the time, this was as good as I could have hoped for. And dig this, there’s a Pizza Pan commercial during “The Frogger” episode, too! Look, it’s all comin’ together, just like an episode of Seinfeld!
(I’ve managed to relocate nearly all of the tapes I’d been searching for, albeit at the expense of a beater VCR that actually held up for far longer than it should have considering what I put it through. The last hold out? Years ago, I had five tapes loaded with Nick Arcade episodes. I have #1, #3, #4 and #5, but as of this writing, #2 is still MIA. I would have marked that one, so where could it be? It’s drivin’ me ‘nanners, man!)
Hey, did y’all know I was an artist? NO?! Well, that’s understandable, since I’m really not. Not professionally, I mean. I’d like to think that the image to your left here was my only real flirtation with surrealism or existentialism or some artsy fartsy term like that, though.
Here’s the story: during my senior year of high school, my art class was split in two groups. There was photography, and then there was whatever I was in (I honestly don’t remember). The photography part took up most of the teacher’s focus, so me and the two or three others in our group were largely left to our own devices. Oh, the teacher would give us assignments and we’d do them, but since her attention was focused on photography, we got to screw around way more than we would have otherwise. No joke, I once made a makeshift TMNT action figure in a kiln, because some things stay with you for life.
Anyway, one time, I can’t remember if there was a bowl of pretzels set out for us or if someone just brought pretzels as a snack, but I got the idea to dip one in epoxy or something and wing it at a piece of my art paper. The result survives to this day and is what you’re seeing now. I call it “Discarded Pretzel,” and it represents isolation or something. It looks like it’s been spit out, okay? I can’t decide if the pretzel itself is more or less toxic than the Worcestershire Sauce I wrote about several months ago in this article.
We’re nearing the end of our journey here, which is 
good, because my enthusiasm is fading fast. Still, I find this artifact pretty funny. I don’t know when it’s from, but it’s the result of my brother and I being needlessly destructive.
You know those dollar store G.I. Joe knock-off figures that have been produced forever, right to this very day? Well, at one point my brother and I decided it’d be a good idea to melt a toy roulette wheel into the torso of one. You can ask me why, but I have no good excuses.
Honestly, it’s something so pointless and stupid, I can’t help but love it. I kinda regret ‘modifying’ the wheel (which I think hails from the same general era as those fake Batman things waaaay up above), but considering our clumsy melting skills, it’s amazing that the wheel is not only still functional, but so are the hapless soldier’s appendages. Even his head still turns!
Remember those little I.D. cards on the back of G.I. Joe packages, detailing the attributes of whatever specific figure you bought? I can’t help but wonder how this guy’s would read (even though he’s not a G.I. Joe). I mean, could his specialized skill be any more useless? The dumb wheel doesn’t even work right unless he’s laying down! (We call that gravity, gang.) What, is he hoping to tap into the compulsive gambling habits of Cobra?
The questions are endless; this dude’s a total enigma. I deem him “Wheelhouse,” because that sounds like a G.I. Joe-ish moniker. Oh, and he has to originally hail from either Vegas or Atlantic City, I haven’t decided which yet.
During my digging, I turned up not one, not two, but three old Mystery Science Theater 3000 merchandise order forms! Cool winnins!
I had written the show and sent in some of my artwork back in, probably, late 1997, and that was enough for them to add me to the “Info Club.” Thanks, MST3K! Man, I loved getting these things in the mail; new MST3K merch to buy – too cool! Well, having even less money then than I do now (which is really saying something), most of it was just for me to gawk at, though I did order tapes fairly frequently from them. This is also where my “Bot Building Booklet” and some kind of MST3K-emblazoned folder loaded with stuff came from, but usually, it was all about the VHS.
Do I wish I had taken even more advantage of the wares they offered? Well, of course. Still, I can’t complain about what I did get, and I’m certainly glad to have a decent number of these old order forms survive in my collection. As far as I know, the Info Club is no more, but at least we MSTies have artifacts such as these to remind us. (As well as the on-screen graphic that remains in old episodes.)
And last but certainly not least, we have 
this dandy little item. Dig this: it’s a State Road Shopping Center coupon booklet, from 2006! Mega cool winnins!
One of the most popular articles on this blog is this oldie, in which I detailed, in photographic form, some of the establishments that had once made up the shopping center. It’s kind of a wash, since it’s an earlier effort and I don’t think it’s particularly well-written, but meh, it is what it is.
Anyway, this booklet was good throughout May 2006 (14 years ago as of this writing!), and I imagine it was a last ditch effort to improve business and stave off the eventual demolishing that ultimately took away the old center and made way for the one that stands today. Or maybe they just though it’d be a nice gesture, I dunno. But look, it was free!
I myself didn’t actually find this; rather, mom came across not one but two of them during her own personal cleaning project. (See, it’s not just me; there hasn’t been much anyone can do around here lately!) She actually asked me if I wanted them! Uh, yeah ma, I do! Mom knows what kind of stuff I collect, so I appreciate her saving these for me. Thanks again, ma!
Not every place in the strip was represented in the booklet, and that unfortunately means no special deals for North Gate Lanes (though I can’t remember for sure now; they may have been gone by ’06). Still, the coupons for Arby’s (still there), Pro-Tec Electronics (relocated), Goodwill (relocated), Fishland Pets (gone, I think?) and Longhitano’s Restaurant (still around in Kent), among a few others, make this an essential piece of local (and I do mean really local) memorabilia for yours truly!
And with that, our little trip down (my) memory lane comes to a close. This was a fun article to write, mostly because it was mainly for me. As I said over 8000 (yes, really!) words ago, much of this is probably only important to me. But like I also said way back at the beginning, hey, it’s a bit of a peak into what makes me, me. Not a big one, but one nevertheless.
If nothing else, hopefully it gave you something to do, provided you’re under the same stay-at-home orders as I currently am. I want everyone to be safe and healthy and to do their part to keep others safe and healthy, but man, I’m ready for this to be over. I never expected to live through something like this pandemic, and I sure hope I never have to live through something like it again.
Stay safe, everybody!
Oh, but before I go…
There, that’s better! Seriously, Dick Tracy without the yellow raincoat, man, it just ain’t right!
It’s the portable KV-8AD10, manufactured in October of 1990, and boy is it neato. It’s just a lil’ baby! With a screen size of only 8 inches and an overall build not unlike other portable TVs of the time, it was most definitely a television for people on the go or with otherwise limited space.
A top-down view of the set. It’s longer than it is wide, though I always mentally picture it lengthier than it actually is. Dunno why. Certainly there’s more bulk to it than many other portables from the time period, but not enough to be a deal breaker, and besides, it’s a Trinitron.
the front. You’ve got your buttons for power, channels, volume, TV/video select (cause of them A/Vs, man!) and a receiver for your highfalutin infrared remote control device. I got lucky with the power cord being included here, but there was no such luck with the remote. Unless that was only available separately, in which case I’m still ahead in the game or something like that.
There are more options along the side, though I nearly missed them during my picture taking session earlier. Knobs for adjusting the picture quality. Brightness, color, hue and picture are all adjustable. What wasn’t apparently adjustable? My ability to take a decent pic of these. This was as good as it got, gang.
I could get a decent picture of this, and I sure tried. This was the best of the bunch.
You know, maybe choosing something I taped a thousand years ago wasn’t the best way to demonstrate the picture quality of the Trinitron, but I’m running on only like four hours sleep right now and I’m not going back for more pics.
One final pic of SOG on the Trinitron, this time after I had been fiddling with the picture adjustment knobs on the side of the TV. They work as expected, and in this case, really bring out that luxurious SLP VHS grain you all love so. Look at SOG pointing at you there; he’s like the Uncle Sam of horror hosts or something along those lines. I’m really, really tired right now.
knockout, but is still pretty terrific.
Let’s finish this review with something I briefly mentioned during that Dick Goddard segment, and something that, despite originally airing in January, fits perfectly with the time of year we’re currently in: that Cleveland Browns helmet.
THE NORTHEAST OHIO VIDEO HUNTER 