Mystery Science Theater 3000

I know, I know, LOLcatz is probably the lowest form of humor, but when I saw this picture I couldn't resist.

Often when I watch movies with other people, they tend to grumble over an admittedly irritating habit of mine. My movie-mates beg and plead with me, "Can you please stop talking and making fun of this movie? You're completely ruining it for me." I pity these people, of course, because obviously they were not Mystery Science Theater 3000 fans as kids. If they had been, they would be well aware that this so-called annoying constant verbal mockery of mine was actually making it better.

Okay, so maybe I'm no Joel Robinson, but I swear, give me a couple of Bots and a space-based movie theater that exclusively plays B-movies and I'll hit it out of the park.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K to uber nerdy die-hards like, ahem, myself) was an ingenious low-budget project that made its premiere on a local cable access channel in my hometown of Minneapolis. The concept was brilliant, innovative, and dirt-cheap to produce. The show's creators simply sought out the most terrible, unwatchable, most retina-burning feature films they could find, superimposed a couple of silhouettes across the bottom of the screen to give the illiusion of a movie theater environment, and spent the entire duration of the film mocking every conceivable element.

It had an intentionally shaky premise that made it incredibly easy for Joel and the Bots to poke fun not only at the movies, but at their own environment and circumstances as well. In one of the most literal, lengthy, and informative theme songs ever, we get the incredibly detailed and implausible series of events that led up to this B-movie imprisonment scenario:



The creators aimed for a low-budget look, at first for necessity on public access and later to stay true to their roots. The intro exemplified the tongue-in-cheek attitude of the show, particularly with the line:

"If you're wondering how he eats and breathes
And other science facts,
Just repeat to yourself 'It's just a show,
I should really just relax.'"

The theme also introduces us to Joel's robot friends (who he assembled out of the "start" and "stop" functions for the Satellite of Love movie theater, of course). The Bot gang was comprised of Cambot (allegedly recording these events and thus unseen), Gypsy, Crow T. Robot, and Tom Servo. They, along with Joel (and later, Mike) provided us with countless hours (really, countless, each show was incredibly lengthy) of ridiculous riffs and jabs.

Our lovable metalheads from left to right: Gypsy, Crow T. Robot, and Tom Servo. Image via CollegeCandy.com

The show never took itself too seriously, as the underlying concept of the show was to mock everything and anything both mercilessly and relentlessly. In the case that you were never a fan in your youth (and may I just say, for shame!), I am about to launch into my MST3K proselytizing. You've been warned.

The true genius of the show was its commitment to utmost simplicity and maximizing humor. They did very little in the way of continuity or character development in ways that watered down the full-speed-ahead-ness of its comedic contemporaries. The closest they came to any sort of plot development was in the form of brief preliminary, closing, and pre-commercial break skits like the following:



The above clip is from my all-time favorite episode, The Final Sacrifice,for which I have such a strong and fervent love that I feel the compelling need to post the entire 90 minute episode right here on my blog. Yep, I totally just did that. Please watch at your leisure.



If you've never watched the show, this is a prime specimen with which to pop your proverbial MST3k cherry. Seriously. Go ahead. Watch it. I'll wait.

Okay, presumably it's an hour and a half later, and you're now a full MST3K believer, so you'll probably far more interested in what I have to tell you. Good, good. I'm glad we could make to this point together.

The show went through many incarnations as it's network home and time slots changed over the years. Though it began on public access, it was soon thereafter picked up by Comedy Central, the show's home for five seasons of glorious unfettered riffing and due mockery. Joel Hodgson, the original trap-ee aboard the SOL (Satellite of Love) left during the 5th season and was swiftly replaced with Mike Nelson. Lucky for the show, the premise was so thin it was incredibly easy to pull off such a major switcharoo. While to other shows this may have been a critical shark-jumping moment of disaster, MST3K was able to emerge from the change generally unscathed.

Two years later, the show was picked up by the Sci Fi network (after much begging and pleading from fans) presumably based on its vaguely sci-fi Satellite of Love premise and robot sidekicks. The show's producers had to re-tailor the movies' themes in new epsiodes to better fit the Sci Fi cannon, but generally the show continued on its planned trajectory for another good few years until its unfortunate cancellation in 1999. Lucky for all of you, the geeks and nerds who adored this show are technically savvy enough to make most episodes available to all of us right here on the interweb.

The show now has a formidable cult following, which is unsurprising as it has a distinct appeal to the incredibly nerdy people who tend to be in charge of rounding up cult followings. I suppose after this brief foray into MST3K missionary work, I too can add myself to that list. The real appeal of the show is the bam-bam-bam flow of constant jokes. Sure, some of the references are thinly-veiled obscure inside jokes and others may not be as culturally relevant now as they once were, but for the most part, their mocking is timeless. Though trends and references may come and go over the years, there is one thing we can all agree on: making fun of everything.

In case you're not a full-fledged MST3K fan by now, I leave you with a few of my favorite Mystery Science Theater 3000 shorts:

Are You Ready for Marriage?



Cheating


Body Care and Grooming


Posture Pals

Children of the 90s is now on Twitter!

Yep, it's true. Children of the 90s is on Twitter, though I have yet to learn the intricate workings of this stalker-centric world of 140-character minutiae. Suggestions and advice are not only welcome, but probably necessary.

I'm not really sure what the verbage is...Tweet me? Does that sound right? Let's go with that. So, tweet Children of the 90s: http://twitter.com/Childrenof90s. The "the" wouldn't fit, so I hope none of you are offended by being classified as "Children of 90s".

1990s Product Flops

Now and then, a product comes along that for some reason is forever remembered as a bona fide flop. Sure, 80% of new product launches fail, but sometimes things fail so publicly and so embarrassingly that we have no choice other than to mock it profusely with the added and unfair hindsight retrovision of 20/20.

In some cases, these were actual viable inventions and ideas that for some reason or another either failed to take off or suffered misguided marketing strategies. Whatever the reason, these flops were the original Fail (yes, with a capital F.)

This handy example of incredibly adorable failure brought to you by the ever-reliable failblog.org

Minidiscs


Technology is a funny thing. You never really know toward which direction the tides of public opinion will gravitate. At one moment, your new technological innovation seems poised for greatness and the next, well, they're using your product to line litter boxes and horse corrals. Something that seemed like such a great idea at the moment of conception can fail to ever pick up real speed with consumers.

The Sony Minidisc is the perfect example. Looking at one now, it appears semi-ridiculously to resemble a shrinky-dinked (shrinky dunk?) compact disc. In 1992, Sony had confidence that the minidisc was the technology to overtake the scratchy quality audiocassette market. Sony was all hyped up on residual gloating from their success in their Walkman venture, and was certain that their expensive technology (around $550 for a player, $750 for one with recording capabilities) would immediately fill the void of The Next Big Thing.

While the product itself certainly had its technological brag points, Sony failed to consider that the young musically-minded generation they were targeting did not generally posess the necessary capital means to buy it. In short: it was way out of the reach of young people's budgets, and its unfortunate release timing collided poorly with the rise of CDs. Then again, now that the CD market is nearly obsolete itself, it's not looking too sunny on that front either, so no one really wins. Okay, except maybe Apple and their 200 million iPods sold. Touche, Apple.



McDonald's Arch Deluxe

Please allow me to point out the numerous ways in which this diagram is riddled with contradictions. 1. How can a bun be defined both homestyle and bakery? How, I ask you? 2. If the sauce is so secret, how come you just told me what was in it? 3. How exactly does ketchup become "extra fancy?" Does each packet come with a miniature bowtie and monocle?

In 1996, fast food giant McDonald's felt they needed a makeover. No, they weren't seeking to cut back on use of fatty oils and unhealthy ingredients; rather, they wanted to better target an "adult" audience (I'm not exactly sure why those quotation marks are there, I assume they indicate McD's was suffering from too many cash-toting toddlers stopping in for burgers or they felt they weren't reaching their selling potential with adult film stars.) Its tagline was "Arch Deluxe: The Burger with the Grown-Up Taste."

In this case, this vague age demographic failed to recognize any value in differentiating their burgers from those that came in a colorful cardboard Happy Meals carton. There was a major commercial push to corner this so-called grown-up market, but the critical level of demand was not necessarily present. As if pouring buckets of ill-fated cash into an irrelevant and unnecessary product weren't enough, McDonald's also felt that their adult consumer base wanted (again, where they got this data, I do not know) a more sophisticated ad campaign. No more Grimace and Hamburglers for these high-class burger buyers.

These ads, however, were misguided attempts to distinguish the AD as catered to a mature palate. The TV spots featured children poking at the supposedly premier ingredients, commenting with bewilderment, "I don't get it," and referring to the burger in question as "yucky." Well played, McDonalds. Everyone knows a sophisticated adult loves for their food to be publicly declared inedible. Well played indeed.




OK Soda



Another tragic victim of unconventional advertising techniques and hazy target demographics, OK soda was a short-lived beverage experiment executed by the Coca-Cola company in 1994. The best part of the whole thing is that they went with the ad guy from the New Coke campaign. I guess they really, really, really liked this guy, because he already cost them millions of dollars in failed marketing. I imagine the Coke execs seated around the conference room table and musing, "Well, he's a good guy, let's give him another shot. Financial and publicity disaster aside, I always thought he did something pretty special for us here at the Coca-Cola company."

OK Soda was a sort of existential experiment into youth marketing. Youth Culture--particularly in the moody, grungy mid 90s--was by design inherently opposed to mainstream attempts to lure them in via hackneyed advertising strategies. The Coke marketers thought that since irony was so in at the moment, they would just overtly court the teen market in a completely unsubtle, overstated way. They even had an 800-number to which angsty teens could call in and leave deadpan, disillusioned messages which could someday be mainstreamed into a national commercial, virtually cancelling out any Generation X-style irreverent credibility of the caller.




Unfortunately for Coca-Cola, young people are usually smarter than adults give them credit for. I suppose only the coolest of the cool teenagers would have liked OK Soda on the multi-layered levels of irony that your average teen poseur failed to comprehend. That is, it's ironic to actually like the thing that adults are trying so hard to make into something ironic, which is ironic in itself. Then again, 90s teens were generally misinformed on the actual meaning of irony, as Alanis Morrisette had given them zero examples of it in her song "Ironic". Which is also ironic. Don't you think?



Microsoft WebTV



Not as well-remembered as the others, WebTV was once on the verge of being the next major entertainment technology leap. Don't let the name fool you based on your current knowledge and context of the internet: Web TV was not TV on your computer. Instead, it was computer (well, internet) on your TV.

In the late 90s, some tech giants (namely Microsoft, who acquired WebTV in a $425 million deal) believed that all that people really wanted was to check emails and browse online on their living room TV sets. The theory behind WebTV was partially derived from the same dumbed-down message you see today in those Jitterbug-brand cell phone service commercials. It's based on the notion that certain (read: old) people are frightened of new and unfamiliar technology and it has to be somehow brought down to their technologically-illiterate level.

This is, in theory, a viable marketing concept with a real, defined demographic. However, the tiny aspect Microsoft overlooked is that these people were not suddenly going to flourish on internet-shopping, banner ad-clicking, viable members of the web community. Instead, they actually became a tedious burden of call-center nightmares who failed to comprehend even the most basic of troubleshooting strategies. Then again, what did they expect? These people were used to their TVs being TVs, not computers.



So to these formerly flopping companies, we salute you for your misguidedness. Despite the relatively low long-term economic impact, these flops speak loudly to the unsavory expectations that these corporations had of us as consumers of the 90s as needlessly spending, sophisticated-burger craving, quadruply ironic, technologically deficient simpletons.

Lucky for us, most of these expectations turned out to be false, but it never hurts to get retrospectively outraged and insulted from time to time. If only Coca-Cola had maintained their 1-800-IFEELOK hotline so we'd all have a place to express it.


In case you thought I had somehow forgotten the epic failure of Crystal Pepsi, fear not: I have already devoted a full-length rant-filled post to it. Peruse at your leisure.