A Little Something to Get You Through Your Weekend...

I have yet to get around to writing about the Golden Girls' because I'm a tad concerned about not doing this comedic gem justice in blog post form. I keep putting it off for some imaginary date when I will have adequate time and motivation to sufficiently convey its hilarity. Until then, here's a little something to tide you over and give you a heaping spoonful of 90s humor to hold you for the weekend.

As sad as I was to hear of Bea Arthur's passing, it did remind me of a little something I vaguely recollected from the 1996 MTV Movie Awards. I will admit up front that this is 100% cheating to in any way link this to Bea Arthur as she was the only Golden Girl who did not appear in this, but I remembered this clip existed earlier this week and felt it was my duty as distributor of all things sacred and 90s to pass it on to you.

This Clueless spoof had me laughing so hard I nearly ruptured an internal organ, and not because it's so brilliantly scripted. In actuality, the script is no comedic revelation and the spoof lifts many lines nearly word-for-word from the original film. No, the real humor is all in the uncanny Clueless-to-Golden-Girls visual translation. I don't want to give it away, so you will just have to watch it for yourselves.

Without further ado, the Golden Girls (or perhaps the Golden Palace, as it is sans Bea) do Clueless:





Happy weekend, everyone!

The MASH Game

We all grew up with big dreams. For some of us, it was to have a blossoming career. For others, to raise a happy and healthy family. There are some of us out there however, with more pre-specified ambitions.

Namely that you're going to marry Screech from Saved by the Bell, live in a mansion in the United Arab Emirates, have 12 children, and drive your purple subcompact car to your job as a housewife everyday.

Sound odd? Absolutely! But if the fates proclaim it, so shall it be.

The fates we're talking about here are admittedly less professional than your run-of-the-mill neighborhood psychic or carnival palm reader. Regardless of their questionable credentials, we trusted these fortune seers to predict for us a decidedly silly, squeal-inducing future. These were our peers on the playground, and they held in their hands our very fates.

The brilliance of MASH was that it became a universally known and widely accepted practice among children in the 80s and 90s. If you were to have stopped by nearly any elementary school and asked if they would like to play MASH, no one would look at you questioningly or jump in to discuss the preachy-ness of Alan Alda's television directing career. They would grab a pencil and a piece of looseleaf and start prophesying.

One of the main elements we all loved so dearly about MASH was the ability to lightly humiliate our friends by assigning to them less-than-stellar options in any of the preselected categories. The categories usually ran a little something like this, with at least 5 options listed per category:

MASH
This one was a constant; the game's namesake. MASH stood for Mansion-Apartment-Shack-House. These were your choices for living accommodations. In some circles, more creative (read: cruel) options were added, but this was the basic underlying foundation of the game. This was one of the more important categories, as we all assumed money would make us outstandingly, incomparably happy. And they say kids don't learn anything from TV.

Boys'/Girls' Names
Depending on your gender, you were ordered to name 5 people of the opposite sex. When meaner kids were running the show, they would get to select the options for you, but usually you had some say in who was listed. It was requisite to list your crush, unattainable famous people, and at least one unsavory kid; this was usually the kid who picked his nose in the back of the classroom or was forever regaling his classmates with stories about what happened last night on his ant farm. It was generally understood that the more appalling and undesirable options you listed, the more hilarity would ensue when your moment of fortune-telling came to fruition.

However, if you were lucky enough to bag JTT or Tatyana Ali in a game of recess MASH, you were certainly entitled to bragging rights for the remainder of the school day.

Jobs
This one was pretty self-explanatory, but it was always fun seeing what wacky undesirably professions one could add to the list of possibilities. Garbage collector? Septic tank engineer? Cootie quarantiner? Sure, you can always throw in some of the standard Doctor/Lawyer/Teacher/Housewife fare, but that was never quite as humorous or entertaining.

Gender role-reversal was also popular. A male housewife? An instant classic!

Cars
Again, the money=happiness paradigm reigned supreme. Sure, a Corvette or a Lamborghini would be nice, but what's that when you could have a broken down AMC Hornet?* What, I ask you?

Some versions also included car colors, which are not inherently funny but accurately reflect a child's disproportional sense of humor. A pink car? For a boy? Oh my god. Pink. And for those of us who dreamed of one day owning a shocking fuchsia Maserati, well, this was our chance. That is, if you didn't get stuck with the puce Buick instead.

City/Location
One of the games more practical aspects, we all were truly curious about where we were going to end up. However, as children our worldview was relatively limited, so we frequently had our pick of 5 neighboring suburbs of our then current location. A kid can dream, can't he?

Number of Children
This was a pretty obvious dimension; two or three were preferable, six was sort of a bummer, and ten was ridiculous. Bear in mind the Duggar family of 18 Kids and Counting fame were not yet being broadcast into our susceptible minds weekly, so we were under the impression that there was some sort of a finite cap on how many children one could feasibly physically produce. Unfortunately, most of the options listed in this category were pretty reasonable and rational and hence lacked the shock value of some of the more outlandish categories. Depending on your foreseen mate, however, the shock value could fluctuate significantly.



Once all the lists had been generated, the real fun could begin in a tedious, meticulous fashion uncharacteristic of otherwise attention spanless children. At this point, there were several ways in which to randomly select a benchmark number, all of which were terminated by the fortune seeker saying, "Stop!" Usually, you would draw spirals or tally marks and whenever the MASHee indicated for you to stop. Whatever the number of circles or tallies drawn would serve as your reference point number. If your number was four, you would start at the top, count down four items, and cross off the fourth. From that one you would count another four, cross out the list item you landed on, and so on and so forth until you had one item remaining in each category.

For those of you to whom this makes no sense at all (and let's be honest, if you never or rarely played this game, this is a pretty shaky explanation), I invite you to play the online version for illustrative and/or enjoyment purposes. Go on, I'll wait.

Online MASH game

If you ended up with less than spectacular results, fear not; the beauty of MASH is that it can be played repeatedly until you finally achieve your desired outcome. Much like a Magic 8 Ball could be shaken again and again until it displayed the coveted response, so too could MASH be reformulated and re-tabulated umpteen times.

So go ahead, keep playing. I think you'll find that despite your current status as a so-called adult, this game retains its novelty. For those of you lucky enough to possess an iPhone but are currently living in tenuous fear of being caught slacking by your boss/parent/significant other/roommate/pet, don't worry. As the iPhone commercials so helpfully inform us, "there's an app for that":



Feel free to drop your MASH results in the comment box.


Check it out:
An Amazing MASH Game T-Shirt
Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen: Bratz MASH


*My dad once owned an AMC Hornet. One day, he came outside and found that someone had stolen his driver's side door. His driver's side door. This story is completely unrelated (especially since it happened in the 70s) but it is also true and hilarious and therefore must be shared.

Floppy Disks

Once upon a time, before the dawn of our alleged full-fledged digital age, computers were simpler creatures. Sure, they required roughly 247 times the maintenance of current computers, but they had character. They also had disk drives.


Looking closely at my up-to-date if admittedly bulky desktop model, it suddenly occurs to me that disk drives have virtually (yes, that's a computer pun) disappeared from today's computers. While I was once able to hear that satisfying click--POP! noise of floppy disk insertion, it appears that my once-beloved disk drive is no more. The portal that once gave me green-and-black-screen delights like Oregon Trail has gone tragically extinct. The Disk became Disc and eventually Drive, and our children will never know that computer devices once included ridiculously non-technological preceding adjectives like "floppy."

While their value as data storage devices may now be obsolete, back in our elementary school classrooms, they were all the rage. Just think, in a pre-internet age, you could write a book report on your computer at home and print it off at your computer at school. To those of us who now spend at least 8 hours a day parked in front of a computer screen with remarkably expedient internet capabilities, this is generally un-fazing, but as children growing up amongst quick-developing technology we still had our sense of wonder.



Unfortunately with this sense of wonder came a sense of impropriety. We as children may not have had as much technology at our fingertips as today's youngsters, but we certainly shared with them to some degree a sense of childlike greed and entitlement. For any of you who think pirated software, games, music, and movies is a new phenomenon, you must a pretty poor memory. Maybe this little number will do something to refresh it:



(Don't Copy That Floppy)

I recognize some of you (myself included) were fairly young when this PSA came out, so if you're not familiar with the above video from your 1990s childhood here's a little background information. In 1992, the Software Publishers' Association was pretty fed up with freeloading kids like Corey and Jenny here denying them their royalties on their precious floppy disk computer game releases. If these kids (read: all of us) thought they could get away with a crime-of-the-century like this, they were wrong. Or, at least the SPA tried to convince us that they were wrong. In reality, it was about as simple and certainly as tempting to pirate software then as it is now, but advertisers thought they could use guilt-inducing tactics to nip this in the bud early on.

The brilliance of the campaign was not in it's effectiveness, because it was not particularly effective at deterring floppy disk pirating. It did, however, feature the following absolutely brilliant educational PSA-style rap. Allow me to guide you through some of its finer points:


"Don't Copy That Floppy"
Performed by MC Hart
Lyrics by MC Hart and Ilene Rosenthal

Right off the bat, you know this is some hardcore gangsta rap. With a co-writer with a name like Ilene Rosenthal, how could it not be? It just screams bad-ass.

Did I hear you right, did I hear you sayin'
That you're gonna make a copy of a game without payin'?
Come on, guys, I thought you knew better don't copy that floppy!
[Don't don't don't don't...]

Come on, guys! There's your next clue this is a legitimate rap; the childlike whininess. That background "don't don't don't don't" doesn't hurt, either.

(Wait a minute. Who are you, anyway?
Yeah. And what are you doing on my computer?)

Seriously, slow down here. Corey, you've got a point, here. Your acting skills, by the way, are impeccable. You must see this kind of thing all the time, because you don't look particularly surprised.

I'm your MC Double Def DP
That's the Disk Protector for you and the posse

Ah, well that clears thing up nicely. Thank you for that, MC Double Def DP. Mind if I call you DP?

That's your artists, writers, designers and pro-grammers
They pump up the images for games and grammas that lets you learn, but also play
The games you came here for today
Now I know you love the game and that's alright to do
Because the posse who make them, they love them too
But if you start stealing, there's no more they can do

The grammas, huh? Let's try to leave my grandmother out of this, okay, DP?
And you're right, I do love the game. I never really thought of their posse in such a vulnerable way. Go on, DP.

(But I just wanted to make one copy!)

I just wanted to steal one car!

You say 'I'll just make a copy, for me and a friend'
Then he'll make one and she'll make one and where will it end?
One leads to another then ten, then more,
And no one buys anything from the store
So no one gets paid and they can't make more
The posse breaks up and they close the door
Don't copy! Don't copy that floppy!

The posse is going to break up? Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, DP. That does seem to be a rather disturbing chain of events.

So let me break this down for you
D-D-Do-Do-Don't

Ah, well, thank you for that. That don't does seem to be fairly broken-down. Good work.

No Carmen Sandiego, no more Oregon Trail
Tetris and the others, they're all gonna fail
Not because we want it but because you're just takin' it
Dis-res-pec-tin' all the folks who are ma-kin' it
The more you take, the less there will be
The disks become fewer, the games fall away
The screen starts to tweak, and then it will fade
Programs fall through a black hole in space
The computer world becomes bleak and stark
Loses its life and the screen goes dark

Wow, I never really considered that whole black hole/space scenario, but it makes perfect sense. If I copy this game, everything will immediately be sucked into a swirling vortex of doom.

[Welcome to the end of the computer age... mwahahahaha..]

Uh-oh, evil laughter. That seems like an ominous cue of some sort, I just can't figure out for what...

But I'm much too strong and you're much too smart
To let that happen to your chances to explore
Parts of the new age just behind the door of your minds
You're the posse of the future and you hold in your brains what's never thought before
And in time, you'll see just so much more
That's why I'm here and that's what I'm fighting for
Don't copy! Don't copy that floppy!

Jenny and Corey are the posse of the future? You're right, DP, things are certainly looking grim.

Now let me introduce you, to some of the teams
That will explain a little more about what I mean!

Ah, the boring spoken-words snippets I was hoping for. Wait, this guy was working on a Dungeons and Dragons game? And I ruined his chances for success? This is worse than I thought. I can't believe people would try to create a computer game for something like that.

[D-D-Do-Do-Don't...Don't copy that floppy!]

You see, on these disks we have frozen in time
The creativity of someone's mind
Do you think, that because, with a flick of a key
You can copy that game, that the work is free
This creativity, we protect it by law
We value so highly, what the mind's eye saw
Don't copy! Don't copy that floppy!

[D-D-Do-Do-Don't...Don't copy.. Don't copy that floppy!]

You have to admit, nice chorus framing on this one.

To do the right thing, it's really simple for you
The copyright law, it will tell you what to do
Buy one, for every computer you use
Anything else is like going to the store
Taking the disk, and walking out the door
It's called thiefin', stealin', taking what's not yours
Is that really where you want your life to go?
Think about it, I don't think so.
Don't copy! Don't copy that floppy!

Thefin'? Stealing? Taking what's not mine? I prefer theifin', I think. It suits me.

Now you see a game you like and you really want to try it
Don't copy that floppy, just go to the store and buy it
Think of it this way, okay?

Okay.

When you're buy a disk, you're sayin' to the team
You respect what you do and what you're workin' for
We'll keep up our support so you can make up some more
We'll do the right thing and the future will be clear
There will be new programs here at the end
Don't copy! Don't copy that floppy!

Okay, sounds fair, DP. I was planning on saying that to the team, anyway.

Now you know how the games and the programs are made
And what you do to make sure that they're not gonna fade
The bottom line is it's all up to you
There's nothing more that I can do
The goals in your court, dribble, shoot, or pass
I'm sure you'll make your decision with class
[Don't copy that floppy]

Dribble, shoot, or pass? I'm a computer kid, man. Use words I understand!

See ya, I'm outta here.


Check it out--modern novelty floppies:
Floppy-Disk Coasters
Floppy-Disk Notebooks
Floppy-Disk Pouch
Floppy-Disk T-Shirt
How to Make Floppy-Disk Earrings