Category Archives: Nostalgic Obsessions
Dead Milkmen
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Girls of BIUL, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Thousand Listen Club, Worst Of All
Moonlighting
Oh, you say there’s an ’80s revival on the way again? Are you ready for some chills of the douche variety?
Many things on television in the 1980s were, in hindsight, cringe-inducingly awful. Indefensible, from any logical standpoint. Cast into the dustbin of time by fading stars trying to build a better legacy. Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Girls of BIUL, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Worst Of All
A Year In Review
Let’s take a look back at 2016. Not in anger. In relief, that it’s done. I beg you all not to tempt fate as far as 2017 is concerned. Spoiler alert: more death.
2016 reeked so badly that even the lead singer of Motorhead wouldn’t go near it. 2015 was no plum, either, as it became obvious we were living in the alternate timeline from Back To The Future II. 2016 was worse. Continue reading
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Filed under Comix Classic & Current, Girls of BIUL, Idiot's Delight, Late To The Party, Nostalgic Obsessions, Site Stuff, Uncategorized
Before It Was Choked On

From BIUL III.
Look, choking sucks. I don’t have to point that out, do I? And truthfully, most toys have small parts these days, and there’s a warning about them on the package. But those clickers are long gone. They blocked a toddler’s airway better than a spoonful of shellac.
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Eatable Things, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Robot Toy Fetish, Saturday Movie Matinee
Unfairly Maligned: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
For your benefit, I will begin this article with a warning: 18 seconds of this movie consist of Shia LeBeouf swinging from vines with CGI monkeys. I know 18 seconds doesn’t seem like a long time, but apparently it’s an eternity for some people. It all depends on your perspective, or lack thereof.
In 2008, Harrison Ford returned to the screen as globe-trotting archaeologist Henry “Indiana” Jones, Junior after a 19-year absence. I myself have been (to be kind) fanatical about Indy since Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981, so before I saw Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I knew several things.
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Filed under Bad Influences, Movies You Missed, Nostalgic Obsessions, Saturday Movie Matinee, Unfairly Maligned
Invisible Legends
DIY stands for “do-it-yourself”. You knew that, right? It was once a point of pride in music production. People love DIY, because it lights that little bulb in the mind that signals “I can do that”.
Ideally, you should feel that way about anything people do, aside from brain surgery or bomb disposal (and you can learn how to do those). Shoot, you could change your gender if you set your mind and wallet to it, but that’s a personal matter, and not something you want to capitalize upon. Still, there’s a lot to be said for taking a grass-roots shot at an admittedly lofty goal. For example, producing a homemade movie.
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Filed under Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Magazine Rack, Nostalgic Obsessions, Robot Toy Fetish
The Necco Betrayal
Everyone loves a gingerbread house. Even South Park’s hate campaign against the “ginger” couldn’t dull the sugary luster of the beloved cookie-built domicile. You probably remember the first time you saw one, right? Or the first time you smelled one?
Sometime in the late 1970s, at my local church, I spied and smelled a real, elaborate gingerbread house for the first time. It was during an Advent festival, with apple-cheeked residents of my snowy hometown selling pinecone ornaments and weaving fragrant holiday wreaths budded with hollyberry. Someone had knocked themselves out on the centerpiece, a resplendent dwelling of gingerbread with all the confectionery trimmings, the kind that lured the likes of Hansel and Gretel to their near-doom.
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Filed under Don't Know Don't Care, Eatable Things, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Worst Of All

















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