ON LIFE SUPPORT, BUT ALIVE or I GOT LAZY.

Ha, I'd never forget this tried and true vein of wordsmith grandeur! Here's a new samplin' of trashy wordzzzzz - go:

Oh Saved By The Bell. Not good enough for the Disney Channel, but eventually just fine for the TBS - THE SUPERSTATION. Remember those F'd up schedule times? Everything was on at like 4:05 or 10:10 or some multiple of :05. To make it weirder it was also channel 5 back home.

I ramble with direction(?). Maybe the original incarnation "Good Morning Miss Bliss" didn't stay on the Disney channel due to the director's porn star name. What was with Boner and the 80's. Growing Pains had a friggin' character named Boner. What made it OK to use Boner as nickname? How did he get it? Why didn't we get to see that very special episode crossover with Blossom? Or maybe it was the god awful theme song. Argh.

Anyways, perhaps it was due to a young Urkel Jaleel White being present in the pilot episode. Lawd knows his soon to be un-mind-wipable character was dying to get out of it's skin after that one Oreo commercial. Man they also gave his ass a sweet Isetta to drive around in later seasons if I recall.

I'm going to go swing wooden swords at things while wearing a man dress.

THE RETURN OF HAROLD AND THE RISE OF JL421 BADONKADONK

Remember Hobo Pete & Harold? Of course you do, you're a loyal Placemaniac. He kept haunting me via pop-up ads wherever I traveled. And he was the subject of a pile of photoshops, bunches of which I have yet to post. (Review the Hobo Pete/Harold Saga here: 0 1 2 3 4)

So anyway, I was stalking Amazon's lesser known regions and came across The Badonkadonk Land Cruiser/Tank. Yes, click the link, I'll wait.

I guess you can sell anything on Amazon. This super neat tank has a comment section that beats the band. But it was seriously lacking something in the customer photos section. So I fixed that. Enter outdated photos of M & 19th Street DC, the Badonkadonk, a dash of Harold - and you get internet magic. Just scroll over a few images on the view all customer images for the full effect. Or hit the image below.

There is a secret, unique pleasure to posting complete bullshit on public sites. I learned everything I know from the Canadian master in this area.

ASSHAT TAKES TO THE RING!

A simple yet enduring pleasure, the joy of custom names in old 8-bit games.

TARGET AND WALMART PEDDLE THE DEVIL'S WARES! THE DEVIL I SAY! GITHYANKI APPROVED!

It's about time they flat out admitted that shit. Weeedle weedly weeeee chugga chugga chugga chug chuggaedta weedleieeeeeeeeeeeeee. Grells bitches!

Rad.

NES SEASONAL JOY TRIGGERS

When the holidays near, I can't help but be reminded of the countless joys our stupid NES brought my brother and I. Holidays meant new games. Sweet, sweet new games. Either we got some new ones or friends did. Either way: Many days off in a row + sledding hills freezing over + NES games afterwards = childhood gold.

So, a pile of YTMNDs in the NES vein, for us all.

This one sums up a buncha the childhood memories, all up to a funtastic 8-bit soundtrack.
Can you name all the game screens flashin by? I got 17 written down.

Yay MacGyver!

Zidane's legacy in 8-bit

Bon Jovi + Zelda

Electman was the 3rd robot you had to take out. And a fave.

The blinking screen of doom!

Contra Police.

GAUNTLET WAS TOTALLY AWESOME, SO WAS BEING TWELVE AND HAVING LOTS OF QUARTERS

Gauntlet in the arcade was pretty dope. (The home version on the NES shown on the TV here, not so much.) Kill stuff in a top-down dungeon with four of your friends. Heck yeah! (It also spawned some nerd references that you may hear some lame nerd say at some lame nerd party.) I mean look at dude shown here. He's positively stoked! From this photo of the happy, slappy, red-headed nerd shown above, it looks like the Elf never managed to shoot the food in his household, nor does this fiery haired barbarian appear to need food badly. It was a obviously a very merry Christmas for everyone's favorite Harkonnen that year.

I grew up pretty much in love with stupid video games. Going to Spaceport (the totally rad, dark, dank, and scary arcade that used to exist at the mall) with 5 bones in quarters rattlin' in the pocket of my faux Jams was the shit. Then there were the home systems, which I played to death. To death. I dreamed in videogame. This love affair continued for years, through college to present. Sitting down and having day become night, then night turn to day (just like in Simon's Quest!) was not uncommon. I spent a whole winter session in college playing the sweet bejeebus out of Doom and Doom II whilst earning myself cavitites at the hands of roll upon roll of Sprees. Then I started getting all lame and old and motion sickness began to set in during certain games. Nowadays it's pretty rough to play any type of 1st person game. Which sucks, because all the interesting ones seem to be of this genre. Oh well, I'll just have to break out the Dramamine if I wanna try to play Fallout or that new zombie Left 4 Dead game. Stupid brain.

Anyways. I ask: Why did you love/hate Gauntlet?

I DON'T WANT THE STUFF THAT YOU DON'T WANT, SO STOP HANDING IT OUT TO ME.

PENNIES, QUARTERS, HALF DOLLARS, PENCILS, ERASERS, BRAZILIAN NUTS - ie RANDOM CRAZY SHIT: This is the lowest of the low in terms of Halloween treat giving. This is scum level territory. When you're an adult and you decide that any of these things, or even more berserk items, are a good idea - then you obviously missed out on your childhood somehow. And for this loss, I'm sorry.

Kids don't want you pocket change. They want goddamn candy. Candy by the fistfuls. Candy to get them through the dull November month ahead. CANDY! As for handing out school supplies...for real? You want to remind the kids of school while out on their once a year pagan sugar rampage? Stupid. Even Halloween themed or some other gimmicky shaped erasers are a no-no. School's not fun. Stop ruining the fun.
And nuts of any sort are bullshit. Unless they are soaked in chocolate and hidden inside of something called a "Snickers". I honestly got 3 or 4 Brazilian nuts one year. I was beside myself. I didn't realize it until I got home, which is a shame. I'd have loved to return the favor to their gas tank.

Wrapping up this sort of random crap from around your house and throwing it in opaque "treat bags" is a favorite way for these types of terrible people to hide their wrong doings. Cast a wary eye on such gifts, they inevitable contain sadness. Step on them in front of the giver. You're better off.

IF YOU ARE SCUM AND HAND THIS GARBAGE OUT: Prepare to find the stuff in your bushes, jammed into your lawn, stuffed in you mailbox, or thrown into your gutters. One year just prior to Halloween, out group of lil' bastards discovered the ol' hairspray and lighter flamethrower trick. It was a good Summer. What's more, we linked this reaction to cans of Silly String as well. This way we could take the stuff out on Halloween without turning any heads by dragging cans of hairspray around. And even one better, there was no need for a lighter because there were Jack-o-lanterns a plenty in the 'hood.

Anywho after some fucking Chud handed us a pile of Dixon Ticonderoga #2s, there only one thing to do. Once the dude had closed the door, presumably to masterbate on the glee of causing distress to kids dressed as skeletons and a Rubik's cube, we set upon his pumpkin with wicked intent. Man, that thing went up quick. Three cans or so of Silly String will casue quite the visible fireball in the October evening. I definitely recall peeing myself a little, such was the power of the laughter. Two or three more pumpkins were reduced to a grinning cinder that night.

GOBSTOPPERS: Yeah. I was into those pretty hardcore.

MR. BONES VS. WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS (MR. BONES WINS EVERY SINGLE TIME)

MR. BONES: OK, so somebody ruined the unveiling of today's awesome candy by blabbin' his cyber face in the comment section. Oh well, you can't control crazy, only harness it, point it in a direction, and hope for the best! But the point remains completely true. Mr. Bones was a pretty fucking dope candy to get. It was mega-rare, because most people suck and just get whatever for Halloween candy. Few folks think it through.

I still get excited when I see the stuff in CVS or whatever. My mind subconsciously scans the shelves for Mr. B during the October month. I can't control it. But it's been goddamn years since my last Mr. Bones encounter. Oh, where have you gone, you beautiful bastard? There's some bullshit impostor out there called Scary Skeletons, but they are bullshit. The candy isn't as hard and goes all powdery pretty quick. Fuck Scary Skeletons.

So, what is Mr. Bones? It's basically a crummy plastic coffin filled with various colored pez-like bones that you assemble to make...yup, Mr. Bones. But it was tough to assemble the fucker. You either were missing a precious bone, had three heads, or got a few busted bones bits which ended up being quite necessary. So you had to trade with your friends, but your friends are all dicks and generally withheld the precious finishing pieces and you just ate the shit bit by bit anyways because it's near impossible to just stare at candy when you're 10. As to gettin' a complete Mr. Bones all in one color? That's the stuff of legend. I heard some rich kid in the next neighborhood had one once, but it was probably bullshit.

Mr. Bones rules. Here's to you Fleer candy!


WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS: Now, the shit candy of the day. I don't even know what to call them. It took 10 minutes of various internet searches to even pull them up. For such hateful little things that are so hard to find, it sure seems like they always ended up in my haul. Always. Let's call them waxy-peanuty-shits that get all melty in the bottom of your pillowcase and make all the other good candies suffer their stink. Or WPSTGAMITBOYPAMATOGCSTS.

You knew from the second you set your eyes on that black or orange waxy lump of ass, that this stuff was no damn good. Hell, even the parents would toss 'em away because they were uber-suspect to tampering. Peanut buttery in nature, but gooey and mostly stuck tot he wrapper, these things sucked. They might have been the bomb in 1920, today, not so much. So, a hearty FUCK YOU to home owners who continue to perpetuate the existence of these worthless garbage candies by purchasing and distributing such crap.

IF YOU ARE STUPID ENOUGH TO GIVE THIS SHIT OUT TO KIDS: Fuck you. Instead of spending that whopping 2 bucks for 50 lbs of this crap, you should instead lay the 2 dollars on the ground and piss on it. Then, shutter your house, turn out your lights, and be that douche bag house on the street. You know, the one that isn't answering the door and will be missing lawn ornaments in the morning because you hate Halloween and are not paying the yearly Halloween tax which keeps your house on the "good list" in the minds of the neighborhood kids - thus protecting you investment from eggy transgressions during the night of October 30th.

HALLOWEEN SUPER SPECTACULAR #1! (SEE HOW I RESISTED THE URGE TO USE SPOOKTACULAR? IT'S CALLED STANDARDS PEOPLE.)

In the spirit of the single greatest, most ridiculous holiday on the US calendar, I'm gonna take a look at the best and shittiest Halloween candy a kid (ie, me a billion years ago) could get. One a day, along with helpful suggestions for folks intent on ruining childhood memories.

OK, let's begin with probably greatest abomination to the candy world....

NECCO WAFERS. If I wanted to eat flavored-ish chalk in an olde tyme wax paper format, I'd fire up my time machine, pack up a handful of sugar packets, go to a quarry in 1820, destroy my time machine (I've already brutally wasted it's potential) then die a horrible candy fueled intestinal mineral death. These things blow. Here's a fun fact from the NECCO website:

"The U.S. Government requisitioned a major portion of the production of NECCO Wafers during World War II. The candy doesn’t melt and is practically indestructible during transit, making it perfect for shipping overseas to the troops."

Sounds delicious. I especially loathe the "chocolate" flavored ones. My throat swells at the thought of them. And luckily, you can buy a whole roll of delicious dark dusty pain in pure faux chocolate form. Booyah! Thanks Oliver Chase and Silas Edwin! Try harder next time.

IF YOU'RE STUPID ENOUGH TO GIVE THEM OUT THIS YEAR: Expect retaliation. These things are pretty hard. So expect a hail of them to chip the paint on your car, injure your cat, put out an eye, clog your sewers, and serve as the medium for swastikas to be drawn on your driveway/house.

On the better side of things: Reese's Fucking Peanut Butter Cups. These things were the single most sought after item in my quest for sugar charged Halloween nirvana. I remember one year our group encountered some goon who left a big ass bowl of them on his porch, all alone with the note "Please take only one." We just sorta looked at each other, then shit went down like Lord of the Flies. 5-6 of the precious candies were crushed in the ensuing wrestling match. We walked off with at least 10 to a person. I don't remember the rest of the evening, I was wasted on chocolate and peanut butter.

Thank you Harry Burnett Reese. You rule. I'm not sure where all this peanut allergy bullshit came from, but I'm sure you could conquer it with enough of your delicious candies.