Greetings, Penguin Blackbelts!!

My schedule from this past weekend all the way to this coming weekend leaves me with little time to do much, so this week’s installment of the summer nostalgia series will be short and sweet, which is apropos considering that it’s about a candy product that I have vast amounts of love for.   And if the title of this week’s “Remembers” hasn’t already given it away, I’m talking about that glorious confection that put Reeses’s Peanut Butter Cups to shame – PB Max.

Created in 1990, PB Max took the whole “you got your chocolate in my peanut butter” to a whole new level.  Instead of a processed-looking filler of brown paste, this candy bar seemed to include the same stuff you would knife or spoon out of a jar.  Slap that on a whole-grain cookie, combine it with peanuts and oats, and then wrap it all up in chocolate seduction and you found yourself with a square-shaped slice of euphoria.  And these things weren’t small, either.  Despite being less rectangular than their competition, PB Max bars didn’t suffer for it in the size department.  As you can tell from the picture above, those things were quite big.  Now imagine that packed with the ingredients I mentioned above.  Now salivate.

I loved the hell out of these things when they were still available.  They were the reason that Snickers bars and I didn’t speak for a long time (don’t worry – we reconciled some time later).  I simply could not resist these little buggers.  If I was ever in a grocery or convenience store and my eyes caught sight of a PB Max, I would usually mow down whoever was in my way to grab a couple.

Unfortunately, this incredible concoction obviously created by a wizard saw a short shelf life.  Halfway into the nineties, PB Max bars disappeared forever.  The reason?  According to the book The Emperors of Chocolate: Inside the Secret World of Hershey and Mars, the Mars family hated peanut butter.

Seriously.

So, thanks to communism (because honestly, communism has to be at the root of every evil – right?), the Mars company succeeded in their nefarious scheme of halting production of a candy bar that would have made Gandhi give up his crusade just so he could sit and ponder the wonders of the universe that were obviously contained within its chocolate coating.  At the very least, it prevented us mere mortals the chance to enjoy a delicious treat that gives Reese’s a run for its money.

And I cry.  Every night.

Still, all hope is not lost.  If you have a friend – like I do – and he is ambitious enough to look at the commercial, as well as check Wikipedia for the ingredients – like mine did – then you just may find yourself living in a shotgun shack gifted with the blessing of homemade PB Maxes, which are literally the next best thing.

And to help you get started, here’s the commercial so you can bask in the warm love of the PB Max:

However, getting a friend is up to you.

The Don is a portly ballerina.

Greetings, Warriors!!

There are two things that immediately spring to mind when I think about the Fester’s Quest game that came out for the NES back in the late eighties:

“Man, that was a great game!”

and

“$#*&@%#!!”

Released in 1989 by Sunsoft, Fester’s Quest was this little hidden gem of a game amongst the rest of the NES titles that came out that year.  Featuring an overhead layout (with a few scattered, first-person, dungeon crawl-like areas) and utilizing gameplay mechanics similar to the game Blaster Master, you controlled Uncle Fester as he ran around town trying to save it from and alien invasion.

While the gameplay was fun and the environment was visually stimulating, the game itself was quite – to put it mildly – challenging.

Between clunky movement and shooting mechanics, frequent and sometimes hard to avoid weapon degrade drops mixed in with the upgrade drops, and enemies that would pop up almost everywhere way too often, this game would frequently get very frustrating.  Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t stop playing it.  Thrown controllers aside (pun intended), I still enjoyed every minute of this game.  For me, at that young age, Fester’s Quest was different and inventive.  Plus, the fact that it was based on what was then a twenty-five year old, black and white television show impressed me.

Though I never actually owned Fester’s Quest, this cartridge has the distinction of being one of the few titles I rented repeatedly (well, as long as my parents had no problems paying for the rental and driving me to and from the rental place).  The first time I rented it, I remember picking up this title and the first Ducktales game.  I found myself enjoying both so much that I had a hard time choosing between the two to play.  I think the quirkiness and eccentricities of Fester’s Quest is what made it stand out for me, though, as well as what made it a constant on my video game rental list.

Before finishing this article, I decided to play it again just to see how it holds up.  It’s not as difficult as I remember, but it still can get frustrating as hell.  Part of the problem is the damn gun upgrades.  Until you upgrade to the best gun in the game, your projectiles tend to do some kind of wonky zig-zag or loop-de-loops as they head towards their target.  This can prove to be somewhat anger-inducing when you are in close quarters with some nasty alien varmints and your gun blasts keep getting stopped by the local shrubbery.  But you know what?  I still enjoyed the hell out of the game.  In fact, it took me at least an hour to get back to this article, I was having so much fun.

So, is Fester’s Quest as good as I remember?  Yup.  In fact, I’m going back to play it some more.

“$#*&@%#!!”

There goes another controller.

The Don is creepy and he’s kooky, he’s hairy like a wookiee, he’ll make you wanna pukee…

It isn’t very often that the stars align and a series of unfortunate events occur in tandem and in perfect sync with the Spwug article that I happen to be writing for the week.

This isn’t one of those times.

Still, it’s a pretty fortunate coincidence that the new Predators movie is opening this weekend and the original Predator came out last week on Blu and that I watched it over the weekend and I had planned on writing about the film this week as a part of my “Don Remembers” series.

Wow.  That’s a lot of ands.

But, with the ever-growing excitement I’m feeling over the possibility that a new Predator film written and produced by Robert Rodriguez might actually be good (or at the very least wash the horrible taste of A v P films out of cinegoers mouths), I felt it was only fitting that this week I remember the classic Schwarzenegger flick that started it all.

First, I will go on record and say that I think Predator is hands down the best action film on Arnold’s resume (and holy cow does it look beautiful on Blu – so clean that it looks like a recently-released film).  Don’t get me wrong – I love me some Terminator and T2, and Commando is just way too much fun – but Predator is a nice, intimate sci-fi/action flick that seems to work perfectly on every level.  You’ve got your well-cast, well-balanced team dynamic, with each character played brilliantly by his respective actor and getting a decent amount of development – so when each one dies, you don’t just shrug it off.  Each death carries weight.  You’ve got your humorous one-liners.  You’ve got your straight-up, military mission plot line that about half-way through gets a serious injection of sci-fi/slasher juice in the form of a bad-ass alien who has no qualms with how messy he makes his kills.  That leads me to the fact that film is also loaded up with a decent amount of gore.  Top that all off with the requisite staple of a Schwarzenegger film – Arnie in a one-on-one showdown with the big bad – and you have the final product that should be on regular rotation in every household.

This film actually holds a special significance for me, as it was the very first R-rated flick I got to see in theaters.  It was summer of 1987.  I was twelve and had just finished seventh grade the month before.  One of my best friends, Jeff, and I had already been stoked to see this film for months after all the articles we had read in magazines like Starlog and Fangoria (ah, the days before the internet when all of your cool movie scoops came from sci-fi and horror magazines).  We talked about this movie constantly, in between watching episodes of Thundercats, playing D&D, and our numerous and consistent attempts to catch any glimpse of T&A that we could on MTV or in whatever flick we could catch on a pay channel.

When the film was finally released in June, Jeff got permission from his mom to stay over at my family’s house that weekend.  Convincing my dad to take us wasn’t a difficult task, as he loved a good action flick as much as anyone.  With our tickets in hand, we went into the small theater at our tiny mall in our miniscule town and took our seats – minds ablaze with excitement over what we were about to see unfold across the screen.

An hour and forty minutes later…

Holy crap!  Jeff and I exited that theater, our young minds blown by the spectacle we had just been privy to.  For the next few months, every minute of our lives was infused with Arnie-speak from the film.  Quotes were flying out of our mouths (and in most cases, away from adult ears) faster than Blaine getting eviscerated by a plasma blast.  Every time we went out to play “guns”, we were commandoes up against some alien hunter.  Even our combined G.I. Joe saw an upgrade in adversaries – from hooded used car salesmen to dreadlocked killers with mandibles and active camouflage.  We would be eating, sleeping, and breathing the awesomeness of Predator well for quite awhile…

Then the hormones kicked in, and we noticed girls.  But that’s another memory… and one probably best not shared.

The Don ain’t got time to bleed.  He’s too busy screaming like a girl from the paper cut.

Greetings, Forever Knights!!

By the time I had gotten to that one year and a half of college I took many moons ago, my musical tastes included four different Swedish bands or groups – ABBA (thanks to my Humanities professor’s obscene insistence that any free time in the auditorium had to be filled with the palindromed band’s melodies), Ace of Base (yes, I got sucked into it.  No, I don’t regret it), Yaki Da (produced by one of the members of Ace of Base, but never went anywhere in the US), and Roxette.  Of the four, only one can hold the distinction of being the first and the longest to last, to the point where I still listen to them regularly even to this day – Roxette.

It would be in the late eighties – sometime in 1988 to be exact, that I would hear their first hit single: “The Look”.  A catchy fusion of pop and rock, I would constantly be on the lookout for anywhere this song might get airplay – radio, MTV (back when MTV still played these cool things called “music videos”, some mix tape someone might happen to be playing (back when you could rip songs off of the original media to create your own custom-made life soundtrack without even an batted eyelash from faceless, corporate big-wigs).  The song was the closest I got to rocking out at the time (I know, I was a wuss in junior high… and senior high… and college… and currently as an adult), and I relished every moment when both the male lead and female lead (Per Gessle and Marie Fredriksson) would jam together, either with rocking harmonies or while tagging each other on single leads.  By the time their next couple of singles came out (“Dressed for Success and “Listen to Your Heart”), I knew I had to get the album on cassette (back when music was put on magnetic tape).  “Dressed for Success” capture the same energy I liked from “The Look”, while “Listen to Your Heart” appealed to the hopeless romantic I was from seventh grade up to… what time is it right now?

When I finally got that album, I played the hell out of it, memorizing every note and lyric.  It was the first album I owned that didn’t contain a single song that I didn’t like.  I went through batteries on my Walkman like crazy (back when Sony was the top maker of portable music players).  And as is usually customary for an angsty teen who has found his musical muse, I thought ever song was about me.

Over the course of the next few years, I would pick up each and every album Roxette put out – Joyride, Tourism, and finally Crash! Boom! Bang! The last one I had to buy twice – the first copy I bought was part of a special music deal that McDonalds had with select bands (back when you could eat McDonalds without thinking about how bad it is for you).  Unfortunately, the version of Crash! that the McD was selling only contained select singles from the full album.  Irritated and jonesing for my fix, I went to my local Camelot Music (back when the store existed), and special ordered the full album.

Sadly, Roxette fell off the radar in the US right after Crash! came out, and I thought that that would be the last release I would ever hear from what became my favorite band of all time.  They sang the soundtrack of my life.  Every note they played, every note they sang, described every high and low I was going through during my young life.  And suddenly, there would be no more.

Well, it turned out that Roxette kind of faded out in general after Crash! But they weren’t down for the count.  It would be another five years after that album, but they came back with a slightly updated sound with Have a Nice Day in 1999.  By that time, I was almost done with my four years of Air Force service, and still kind of a wuss when it came to music.  The new album didn’t make it to the states, unfortunately.  Luckily for me, there was this thing called the internet just starting to make a name of itself (back when most people had to tolerate a series of screeches just to connect through a phone cable).  On a lazy day (which was probably every day), I decided to look up the band I still held a candle for.  And lo and behold, I discovered this new chapter of my soundtrack just beckoning me to order it from their website.

So I did.

It certainly wasn’t the same guitar-pop I was used to.  The band instead offered a more dance mix kind of sound.  I didn’t hate it, but I missed the guitar licks and perfectly blending vocals of the earlier albums.  It would also be the first album that contained a song or two of theirs I didn’t like.  Still, over time I would come to love this album just like all the rest, adding these musical narratives to the growing soundtrack of my life.

One more album would be released by Roxette in 2001 – Room Service.  This album seemed to be the meshing of the two sounds that Roxette had come to embody – dance and pop-rock.  I found myself enjoying this album more than the last, as I felt that the band finally found a perfect balance in their music.

Sadly, that album was the last one we’ve gotten, since Marie Fredriksson fell ill to a brain tumor in 2002, just over a year after the release of Room Service.  When I found out the news, I was hit hard.  The band that seemed to know my heart in and out, the band that I would easily listen to over any other, was hit by such a major blow.  I played their music almost all of the time after I found out, almost as if – in some way – I was sending my best wishes across the ocean to the female half of the band that I also considered my musical soul mate.

Fortunately, the operation Marie had to remove the tumor was a success.  She managed to survive, but did suffer some disabilities.  But despite the impairments, she hasn’t quit making music.  After releasing a couple of solo albums following her recovery over the past couple of years, she and Per made an announcement earlier this year that they were working on some more material together.  Originally, Gessle wouldn’t directly state if it was a new Roxette album, but he left a number of hints.  He has since mentioned that a new single is due out in December, with a new album expected next February.

I still continue to listen to Roxette all the time.  Since their last album, my tastes have expanded a bit, and I have picked up quite a few other favorite bands.  But time and time again, Roxette is always at the core.  If I can’t figure out what I want to listen to – Roxette.  If I’m feeling a particular, emotional high or low that I think only one band can understand – Roxette.  They are the band that has gotten me through most of my entire life.

And come February – if there be a new album, you can guarantee it will be played non-stop for a long time.

The Don loves the sound of crashing guitars.

Greetings, Mads!!

Those of you who grew up during the eighties may remember a little book series put out by a company called Crestwood House that focused on classic monsters from the fifties, sixties, and seventies.  These orange and black little treasures were part of the “Monster Series”, and were some of the most heavily sought-after tomes of my third grade class.

A delightful anthology series, each Monster Series book would focus on a particular movie monster type, be it Frankenstein’s Monster, Godzilla, or Mad Scientists.  And it wouldn’t just cover one iteration of the subject, either – each volume would include every classic appearance of the character, be it silent film, Universal version, Hammer version, or even sequels.  And for a deceptively thin book, each hardcover seemed to overflow with a fountain of information on the monsters we all loved as kids.

My fondest memories of this were again back in third grade.  I remember that my third grade teacher, Mrs. Hopper, was a very kind but very strict Christian woman.  As such, she didn’t like us bringing in anything that seemed evil or un-Christianlike.  So, that meant that the Crestwood House books were verboten in our class.  We could check them out, but they had to remain in our back packs or we couldn’t check them out at all.

That just made them all the more desirable to get ahold of.  We used to sneak them into the back of the room or out by the tree during recess and just go over them cover to cover.  Repeatedly.  There were only six different volumes in our library, but I must have checked each one out at least a hundred times over the course of that school year.

Then, there was the time in fourth grade that I went on a field trip with my gifted class.  The library we went to had new Crestwoods that I had never seen before!  With the new additions added to the growing series list on the back, I was mesmerized by the chance to explore new monsterscapes.  I tried repeatedly to look through them while we were in this foreign elementary library, but I was repeatedly foiled by the fact that we were there for other educational purposes.  But there was only one education I wanted at that point – I wanted to learn more about monsters.

Sadly, I never got to read those other installments.  But, those Monster series books continue to be a part of what makes me the geek I am today – especially my love of monster movies.

The Don is doing the Mash.  The Monster Mash.

Greetings, Ghost Monsters!!

The 80s were an impressive decade as far as animation was concerned.  Television viewers were literally flooded with a wealth of animated programs of all shapes and sizes.  And practically anything that was on the pop culture radar got its own cartoon, from video games to sitcoms to musicians.  If you were a hot commodity, you would soon find yourself in two-dimensional, cel-shaded glory.

Animation was becoming more prominent in movie theaters as well.  Though the 70s showed that an occasional non-Disney cartoon could dip its toe in the theatrical realm, it wasn’t until the 80s that we would see it start to become much more mainstream.  From rock prodigy on display with Heavy Metal to after school favorites getting the feature film treatment like Transformers and G.I. Joe, cartoons were starting to gain a wider audience.

Speaking of theatrical releases, there is one animated movie that still stands out and resonates with me to this day – one that I am proud to own on DVD.  It’s not one of the more well-known titles to come out of the 80s, but I think it’s one of the best.  And with the recent news of a certain famous author’s memoirs finally being available to publish this year, I think remembering this film is more than apropos – The Adventures of Mark Twain.

This film opened in January 1986 to a very limited release (seven cities, to be exact).  It was directed by Will Vinton, who was best known for being the creator of Claymation (and within that art, The California Raisins).  Using the techniques he harnessed from honing his clay-playing craft, Vinton crafted an incredible clay-animated film that chronicled the final days of Mark Twain as he rides an airship to the stars in order to go out with the same comet he came in with.  Along the way, he acquires three stowaways – Tom Sawyer, Becky Thatcher, and Huck Finn.  As they make to their way to Twain’s final destination, the ex-Clemens regales the children with stories taken from his own writings, as well as imparting lessons to the three before he leaves the world for good.

What stands out most about this putty-crafted spectacle is how mature it is for an animated feature.  With a combination of humor and dark subject matter (dark enough to be widely banned), Mark Twain presents itself honestly, showing both sides of the author’s conflicted psyche.  Through a series of vignettes framed by an overarching storyline, we get to see the humor that Twain saw in things, as well as the demons he bore witness to during his depression.  Mark Twain is a very deep film, exploring and celebrating one of America’s best authors by offering a fresh and creative manner for sharing his works, as well as offering a glimpse into his soul.

Despite the controversy the movie sports, I was fortunate enough to be able to see this in theaters.  Already in the process of learning about Twain in our sixth grade Gifted class, our instructor was able to take us on a field trip to our local theater to see this wonderful film.  How our little town was able to procure a print of the movie when it was very limited in its release, I haven’t a clue.  All I do remember is that some deal was worked out and a representative for the film actually came out as well to answer any questions we had.  I remember watching the movie afterwards and enjoying every minute of it.

It would be a long time before I would even get to see this film again, but it never fully left my mind.  The imagery and substance on display continued to resonate with me long after.  Then, in January of 2006 (just in time for its twentieth anniversary!), the movie was finally released to DVD.  I snatched it up immediately and watched it in the hopes that it still held up in comparison to what I remembered.

Sure enough, The Adventures of Mark Twain is every bit as moving and profound as I remember.  I still find myself laughing during the truly funny moments, and I still find myself deeply affected by the dark and creepy moments.  A shining tribute to a great author as well as a highlight in the art of Claymation, this movie still succeeds at resonating with me.

And now, I leave you with the truly disturbing scene that caused its ban, yet still manages to communicate an incredible wealth of intellectual depth:

The Don is but a thought.

Greetings, Pyleans!!

Of all the bits of nostalgia that have been running through my head for consideration as my first “Don Remembers” article, one stood out immediately among all others:

Colorforms.

These little, mono-colored pieces of pliable plastic were like a gateway to endless hours of creativity when I was a kid.  Created in the mid-fifties, Colorforms are pre-cut vinyl shapes that would stick to a flat sheet of cardboard that was coated with a slick sheen.  Each shape would usually have some sort of design, like a person or a car, and could stick to the illustrated background through static cling.  Children could create any scene they wanted by placing the Colorforms on the background, peel them off, and reuse them later by setting up a completely new scene.  Originally, they started out simple, but over the years they began to include licensed characters from different television, movie and comic properties.  By the time the 80s rolled in, almost everything from the band KISS to Marvel Superheroes to Jem had truly outrageous Colorforms.

This is where my childhood comes in.  I remember my first set – Battlestar Galactica. I was a huge fan of the Olmos-less original series.  I would spend hours setting up different battle scenes.  Sometimes Starbuck would get ambushed by Cylons.  Sometimes Boxey and his daggit Moffit would have their own solo adventure.  The best part is that while some of the Colorforms depicted single figures, others would be body parts that you could piece together to make poseable characters.  See kids?  This is what we did before home video game consoles were in every household.  Well, this and Atari.

Eventually I would get other sets like Star Wars or Mork and Mindy, and that’s where the fun would really begin.  Wanna know what would happen if Mork from Ork had to take on Vader while Han Solo and Starbuck were caught in a crossfire between Cylons and Imperial Stormtroopers?

Simple – K.I.T.T. would show up with Pac-Man and rescue everybody.  Duh.

The Don once crossed Batman with a Gremlin.  He doesn’t like to talk about it.

Greetings, Mynocks!!

Starting next week and running through summer, I will be bringing you a brand new series called “The Don Remembers…”  A nostalgic series, I will be focusing on toys, movies, television, cereals, and other pop culture fixtures that have been a part of our lives for the past thirty years, adding my own anecdotes and observations to give each entry that unique flavor that you love to read from me every week.  I think it will a fun way to spend the summer, and hopefully you’ll all come indoors every so often to partake in said having of the fun.

In anticipation of this weekly summer feature, this week’s “Office” will be a sneak preview of sorts, to give you a taste of what’s to come.  And since the magic number here is thirty, what better way to kick it off then by delivering you a one-two punch to the reader-plexus with two franchises that just turned thirty this past weekend – The Empire Strikes Back and Pac-Man!

The Empire Strikes Back

Arguably the best film in the entire Star Wars saga (no matter whether you count all six installments or just the original Holy Trilogy), Empire is a prime example of how Lucas should have handled all of his films after the first one became such a surprising success – hire a better director to helm your film while you hire better writers to polish your script.  Because that’s what he did with Empire, and somehow managed to hit it pretty close to the mark to get us all riled up like that (in a good way).  What came out of that masterful stroke of good decision-making was a darker, yet fun and thrilling film that gave its predecessor a run for its money, while at the same time causing everyone to wet themselves in excitement as their jaws dropped into their collective laps.

I know that’s how my five-year-old self felt.  I remember my parents taking me to see this when it first came out.  Already a huge fan by the time I hit five, I remember the excitement as we waited in line for the next showing at our local theater.  I could hear the thrum and drum of the film as it played on to the movie-goers already held by its thrall.  My anxious anticipation building to almost unbearable levels, I tore away for a second and peeked in at what was being played on the screen.  I was greeted instantly with the sight of Luke’s X-Wing as it zoomed across the stars.  But not even that image could prepare me for what awaited my young senses when it was our turn to take our seats.

Interestingly enough, everything that makes this movie great is exactly what made this one my least favorite when I was a kid.  I remember bawling my eyes out when Han got taken away in carbonite, and I simply couldn’t wait another three years to find out of Luke and his friends could save him.  In the meantime, my actions figures made very sure that he was rescued and back on smuggler detail immediately.

It took awhile, but as my movie-going mind matured my tastes matured, and The Empire Strikes Back eventually became my favorite movie of all time, and it remains so to this day.

Pac-Man

There isn’t a soul on the face of civilized earth that doesn’t recognize this tiny, round, phasmophobe with a severe pill addiction.  Originally called “Puck Man”, this classic arcade game came out during the birth of the video game age, at a time when the big draws all involved spaceships shooting at hostile invaders of one sort or another.  Though it wasn’t initially a big hit in its country of inception (Japan), it became almost an instant success the minute it hit American shores.  After that, everyone had “Pac-Man Fever”.

Merchandise for the pizza-inspired character went into overdrive – candy, board games, cereal, plushies, t-shirts.  TV shows at the time were known to air episodes that at least mentioned the game, and in some instances would have an episode’s plot center around someone playing it incessantly.  Pac-Man’s American distributor Midway got so cocky after the game’s success that they quickly cranked out several spin-offs over the next couple of years, much to the irritation of the game’s creator – Namco.  Despite the faux pas that forced Namco and Midway to eventually part ways, Pac-Man continued to grow in popularity, eventually becoming the world-recognized pop culture phenomenon it is today.

Where I grew up, pizza places seemed to be the venues that would generally have a video game console or two before arcades became widespread, making them almost like Disneyland to my young mind.  When our local Pizza Hut got its first Pac-Man machine, I remember staring at it in wonder.  Steering a little yellow guy through mazes while trying to avoid ghosts was something that was very relevant to my interests.  Already a video game addict by the time I was five, it didn’t take much to bug my parents for quarters.  And Pac-Man was no exception.

Didn’t take long for me to realize that I was terrible at the game.  Certainly didn’t stop me from cleaning out my parents’ pockets for small, silver Washingtons.  And I would continue to waste my parents’ change on that maze navigator for quite some time… at least, until another pill-popper with a bow came along and proved to be a better and more fun game to play.  And don’t even get me started on apes throwing barrels.

So that was your first taste of what’s to come for the summer.  Starting next week, be prepared to take that proverbial trip down memory lane.  Watch out for traffic.

The Don isn’t a system, he’s a man.  Though, that’s stretching it a bit.

Greetings, Quintessons!

We’re all geeks, right?  I mean, that’s why we’re here…

*tumbleweeds*

But, I mean… we all like geeky things – toys, games, television shows, movies, food… it’s our bread and butter and it’s the reason why sites like Spwug exist.

*crickets*

Okay, staying on topic.  I find that as a fellow geek I’m always seeking out other outlets and communities for my passions and interests.  For the movie and TV geek in me, I visit (and blog for) CHUD.  For the comic book geek in me, I read Wizard.  For the action figure geek in me, I read Toyfare.  And for the disposal of nosy neighbors, I always pick up the latest issue of Chump Dumper Weekly.

Recently, I discovered the perfect magazine for a very specific geek niche – 1980s cartoons.  Created by English Renaissance man (he’s English and a Renaissance man, not an English Renaissance man… or maybe that’s true too…) James Eatock and launched in 2007, cereal:geek is a one hundred page magazine completely devoted to all things animated that came from that golden decade of DeLoreans and synthesizers.  Though the not-very periodic (there have only been five issues since 2007, with a sixth due out in June) is a bit pricey ($15, but you can find it for $12), it is completely ad-free.  That one hundred pages I mentioned?  All content!  That plus the fact that each issue doesn’t come out that frequently makes the higher price tag worthwhile.

Speaking of content, let’s dive into that.  The issue I picked up back in March (though it says second quarter, 2008 on the front) caught my eye for two reasons – one, it had The Real Ghostbusters on the cover; and two, the issue was dedicated to how horror themes were often used in a lot of the cartoons that came out of the 1980s.  Horror and animated series from my youth?  Sold!

But that’s not all!  The articles themselves were not only written by Eatock himself, but also by an incredible array of writing talent.  There are also contributions from folks in the biz, like Larry DiTillio and Robert Lamb, both of whom wrote episodes of the original He-Man cartoon.  And the articles themselves are like nothing I’ve ever read before.  Each one doesn’t really read like the type of piece you would find in a typical magazine.  Instead, the entire mag reads like you were sitting down and having a geeky conversation with your friends, discussing the merits and faults of the cel-drawn properties you grew up with and loved.  Every entry was a geekgasm in print form – from an in-depth analysis of the opening to the original Transformers cartoon to the usage of Cthulhu in The Real Ghostbusters to what an Indiana Jones cartoon might look like, the articles presented in cereal:geek are of the things real geeks talk about.  Throw in some stunning, original artwork of different cartoon characters every couple of pages, some interviews with people like Frank Welker, and you truly have a mega-magazine well-worth the quarterly cost of twelve to fifteen dollars.  And though it’s published in the UK, there are two ways to get it here: through the Previews catalogue at your local comic shop, or from the grahamcrackers.com website.

Final thoughts?  There has literally never been a magazine that I have ever read cover to cover… until now.  And this one-hundred-page, ad-free slice of gold is the exception.  It’s such an incredible celebration of a an extremely popular slice of geek culture that after reading it I was inspired to think that this is exactly the kind of spirit I would like to see the halls of Spwug become imbued with.

That’s a vision I plan on making a reality.

The Don remembers when Cookie Crisp had a wizard for a mascot.  That’s right – a wizard.

Greetings, Boglins!

I have to admit that I’m a wee bit off this week.  I feel a little disjointed, so to that end my thoughts are kind of a jumble.  I have ideas, but not enough to flesh them out to carry full articles on their own.

But never fear, my fellow Spwugnerians!  I can actually make this work for me.  In fact, it allows me to do the kind of articles I’ve found myself rather enjoying as of late.  So I bring you another installment of random bits that I affectionately refer to this week as “Bleeps, Sweeps, and Creeps”:

Iron Man 2

Got to see this over the weekend with DKM Marlink and a few other friends.  First, we watched the first film at my house, all the while making snide remarks about how Terrence Howard was going to be replaced later that evening when we got to the theater.  First film still holds up remarkably well.  It has to be one of my favorites, despite the weak third act.  As for the sequel?  Wow.  More of the same, and I mean that in a good way.  Downey Jr. proves once again that the talent is actually his and not from the drugs he lived in for years.  Cheadle was a great substitute for Howard in the role of James Rhodes.  Just a fun flick all over.  My only complaints were that the middle started to feel like it was plodding along (same complaint I had for The Dark Knight).  Plus, Mickey Rourke’s character kinda shows up in a blazing show-down, then takes a back seat for most of the film until the end.  Despite both flaws, the movie got back on its feet by the third act, which was a vast improvement over the first film.  Those who haven’t seen it – stay until after the end credits.  Just like Nick Fury’s spoiled surprise cameo at the end of the first Iron Man, there’s a cool little surprise at the end of this one (SPOILER ALERT: It’s Batroc the Leaper!*)

Farscape

I picked up the complete box set to the hit Sci-Fi (not SyFy) series Farscape about a month ago, and I’ve been pouring myself into it furiously.  I’m almost finished with the first season, and I’m impressed with just how well this show still holds up.  There’s definitely a reason why it was my favorite TV show during its run.  I’m falling in love with these characters all over again (I plan to ask them to marry me next week).  One of the things I like so much about the show is how much it captures the essence of what made the original Star Trek so great – a perfect mixture of straight-up action with episodes of weird crap happening to our main cast with a dash of some light sexiness.  Best feature on the DVD set so far?  Commentary by the creators and the two main cast members on an episode where they spend the entire running time explaining just why the episode is so abysmal.

Super Mario Bros. Galaxy 2

It’s almost here!  Are you ready?  Did you play the first one?  Weren’t the frikkin’ purple coin challenges hard?  How long has it been since you last played the first one?  Do you even remember whether or not you own a Wii?

Corkscrewed Over

Busch Gardens in Virginia, also known as Busch Gardens Europe, also known as The Belgians Were Bored With Just Being Known For Waffles So They Bought the Largest Brewery in America and This Park Got Thrown In For Free, also known as The Park That Had a Really Cool 3-D Ride in Ireland When Not Compared to Anything in Florida but Decided to Ditch it For a Non-3-D Borefest That Could Double as an Extended Promo for British Airways.

That’s a Reynolds Wrap!

Burt Reynolds has been cast as an ex-spy in the incredibly awesome TV series Burn Notice.  My greatest hope is that his cover name is Turd Fergeson.  And he wears a big cowboy hat.  ‘Cuz it’s funny.

Speaking of wrapping up…

The Don’s RADAR appears to be jammed.  Halle Berry.

*It’s totally not Batroc the Leaper!