Stupid Shit That Used to be Popular

Regis Ties (Millionaire Era)

2008-10-21T11:50:00.001-07:00

Now before all three of you who read this blog freak out assuming I'm going to deride Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, take a deep breath and sit down. I would never. In fact I spent countless dollars on WWTBAM merchandise and fruitlessly searched online for the sound effect air-horn that signaled the end of each show and DON'T REGRET IT AT ALL.

I've decided to focus instead on a craze Regis started on the show that caused many wives to run out to the nearest Stein Mart to purchase solid, brightly colored ties for their husbands. What these wives didn't realize, however, was that their husbands don't have the melty-sparkly black eyes of Regis Philbin that so perfectly complemented his bold power ties. You can't by those eyes at Stein Mart. Nor a sweet lighting system with strobes and rapidly moving spotlights.

The Talkboy FX Pen [Contribution]

2008-10-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

Thanks to pal Hanly for this little number:

The movie Home Alone wasn’t just a holiday box office crusher – it was a cornerstone to the foundation of my childhood, and childhoods across America. As a kid I had an irrational fear of burglars (compounded by the time my babysitter showed me a scene from the R-rated film The Fugitive that involved robbers and a woman being smashed over the head by an 8-ball). Every night, as I drifted to sleep in fear, I prayed that the bad men would not come for me. And then one day, I wasn’t afraid anymore, and it was all because of a little toe-headed rascal named Kevin McAllister. He represented everything I aspired to be: independent, brave, and living a life where he could squirt ketchup on the ceiling and never be told to clean it up.

I instantly wanted to do everything that Kevin McAllister did, own everything that Kevin McAllister owned. Luckily, Hasbro heard my prayers and came out with The Talkboy at the release of Home Alone 2. It was just like the one in the movie, except that instead of using it to ward off assuming predators, it was advertised as a device for trickery. Specifically: how to ruin your older sister’s date by using the slow motion/adult voice feature. “Hey kids, we’re home early!” It was comic genius, but the Talkboy proved too large to tote around inconspicuously in school and other public venues.

So you can imagine my delight when I discovered the TALKBOY PEN, a solution for serious pranksters everywhere. I dreamed of recording obscene noises into the microphone and then pushing play while the teacher’s back was turned. She would be horrified and demand to know who had made such a noise, and all of my classmates would laugh, and I’d be the most popular kid in school. But those dreams were never realized. Because the Talkboy FX, aka the Talkboy Pen, did not work. My pretend farts were barely audible in the tiny speaker of the thirty-five dollar pen. A few crammed rides in my pencil case later, and it was completely useless. The worst part was that I was left with a comically oversized pen that barely even worked as a writing device. And also, that I still wasn’t popular.

Less stupid but still stupid: the Talkgirl because it was pink and unprofessional-looking.

Trolls: So Stupid They Were Popular Twice

2008-10-01T14:59:00.000-07:00

The Troll doll was one of those fads that your Mom was all about you being into because they were popular when she was a kid too. Or maybe that was just me. Regardless, these disgusting, often nude (and unembarrassed!), creatures dominated every Hallmark store, car wash gift shop, and inevitably lived in that little compartment under your desk in elementary school.

The sickest thing about them (besides their unabashed nudity!) was their hair, which always became entangled and ratty, and usually got all sorts of nasty shit stuck in it. This predicament often lent itself to giving your Troll a closely-cropped haircut (again, maybe just me) which, whether performed by you or a bullying sibling, always ended up making your Troll look like Coach Paulson, your female PE coach of questionable sexuality.

Which brings me the Trolls' faces. They always were a little too close in resemblance to the Olsen twins on Full House for my comfort. Even when the Russ company decided to make the larger, actual-doll-size Troll dolls (with hard heads and stuffed bodies) that had slightly more sympathetic faces, a Troll is still a Troll.

A friend of mine can't look a Troll in the face to this day because of her tyrannical school nurse who would force sick children to play with the Trolls in her office to "take your mind off of being sick." This friend once was ordered by the nurse to take the Troll BACK TO CLASS and give it back only when she left school.

Once during a birthday party gone awry, I ran upstairs with my doll-size Troll (who was dressed in a Pumpkin costume), shut myself in my closet and hummed "It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To" to my Pumpkin Troll.

Today the Troll franchise has reached new twisted heights. I'll leave you with the most offensive example. In an effort to compete with the popular "Bratz" series of dolls and cartoons, this heinous force was unleashed upon the masses. I give you "Trollz":

Oriental Trading Company [Personal Storytelling Time]

2008-09-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

Allow me to take a break from ridiculing things that were popular that I obviously did not partake in (EVER!) and tell you about something stupid I was involved in (REGRETTABLY!)

When I was about ten or eleven years old I got a hold of an Oriental Trading Company catalog. The abundance of so much stupid shit in bulk was overwhelming to my young senses and immediately I realized the opportunity that was before me. It was everything a child wanted. Instead of slaving away over some game of skill in an arcade for hours in the hopes that I might earn enough tickets for a rubber sticky hand, I could buy a box (A BOX!) of rubber sticky hands ALL FOR MYSELF. As soon as this became apparent to me I realized I could exploit it.

Within weeks I had opened a small humble store on my driveway and began hawking my wares to the neighborhood children (SHEEP!) at outrageously marked up prices. "Holiday Bazaar" was a wild success. Magic Ink, Silly Disguise Glasses, Wax Lips, even premium items like plastic rolly-eyeballs were selling like hot cakes. The money was rolling in alright. I was able to take my earnings and upgrade from a calculator to real cash register, giving my establishment the class it deserved.

My reign as the neighborhood's premier novelty goods reseller came crashing down around me as quickly as it came. One day while all the neighborhood kids (still reeling from their afternoon snack sugar-frenzy) were madly going through the latest shipment at "Holiday Bazaar", an older sister (let's call her Lora) accompanied her younger brother to the store. Lora was 12, had just probably just learned division, and was looking to crush someone's dreams. Her brother showed some interest in some wind-up chattering teeth. "That's a rip-off," said Lora, as all the children froze and looked at her. "He's just buying these things for cheap and selling them for twice as much." Slowly novelties were returning to their bins and one by one my storefront was deserted. "Holiday Bazaar" was no more. The cash register and the personalized rubber stamps with the store's name used to stamp the receipts were packed away along with my dreams, collecting dust for years to come.

Dressing Up Chimps

2008-09-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

"Dunston Checks In" was the culmination of years of fascination with chimps dressing up and being funny. In everything from novelty calendars to greeting cards, everyone could find something to laugh about in a well garbed primate. After all, who could resist when they awkwardly open their mouths and "smile" with their big teeth while waving their hands around.