90s Catch Phrase Mash-Up Part Deux: TV Edition

90s TV was nothing if not quotable. In some cases, overly so, as the decade unleashed a maelstrom of oft-repeated phrases that surreptitiously wound their way into our vernacular. One night you heard it on TV, the next you found yourself saying it at dinner. We just couldn't help ourselves from inserting these television phrases into our conversations. Though over time they may have lost their original humorous luster, you've got to give these shows credit for these enduring and timeless little contributions to society.


Seinfeld

Seinfeld was a whole world unto itself, so it was no surprise that it spawned innumerable quotable lines. Famous for its self-proclaimed status as a show about nothing, the series frequently took the most minuscule and mundane of daily experiences and turned it into a half-hour of quirky entertainment. Though Seinfeld's memorable lines are numerous, there were two in particular that wormed their way onto everyone's lips.
No Soup for You!



The tyrannical Soup Nazi, based on an actual immigrant soup chef in New York City, was famous for arbitrarily admonishing customers and denying them the coveted opportunity to purchase his delicious soups. One minor misstep in soup-line courtesy could lead the dreaded excommunication, demarcated by the chef bellowing, "No soup for you!" and subsequent refusal to sell to the patron. Both his trademark phrase and his alleged title of Soup Nazi crept into our vocabularies, though you can bet the 251st time you heard some shmoe exclaim, "No soup for you!" it had long since lost its humor.

Yada, Yada, Yada



In the eponymous episode ("The Yada Yada"), George is a smidgen concerned over his current girlfriend's overuse of the filler phrase, "yada, yada, yada." While admittedly brief and concise, he's forced to wonder what heinousness she may be glossing over. In an instant, this phrase skyrocketed in popularity, both for its Seinfeld fame and its forgiving nature to unscrupulous details.



Friends

Friends was a veritable 90s empire, both in its longevity and sustained popularity. While all of the characters had their quirks and habits, perhaps none was more memorable than lovable simpleton Joey's trademark pick-up line:

How YOU doin'?



You have to admit, the phrase did prove pretty successful on the shoe, as Joey was typically quite the ladies' man. "How YOU doin'?" quickly spread to pick-up scenes everywhere, with a notably lower success rate for real life use. We can't all be Tribbianis.


Full House

Full House was fun for the whole family, with clean humor and an unblemished record of "cue-sappy-music-and-dad's-words-of-wisdom-speech" at each show's 25-minute mark. The show's characters were incredibly one-dimensional, allowing both awesome stereotyping and extreme repetition in behavior. In no time at all, many characters latched onto a trademark phrase that highlighted their unwaveringly constant personalities.

Have Mercy!



Though the above clip highlights a rare Danny Tanner version, the line was usually uttered by my longtime childhood crush, a one Uncle Jesse Kastopolis. The phrase generally expressed Jesse's inevitable good luck, in the first few seasons generally pertaining to his luck with the ladies. For the record, if given the opportunity I would agree in an instant to becoming a Jesse and the Rippers groupie. Have mercy.

How Rude! You got it, dude!



See how irritating that gets after just a few minutes of repetition? Now multiply that times every child tuned in to Full House every week. It's a frightening volume of catch-phrases. Yes, Stephanie and Michelle were adorable children, but good God did they they say those phrases a lot. I'll concede that it was pretty cute the first few times, though. That's just common sense.


Family Matters

Steve Urkel of Family Matters was the quintessential nerd, from his high water pants to his over-sized glasses. His distinctive nasal tone of voice was unmistakable. As he was famous for his klutziness and general zaniness, it's no doubt the show's writer branded him with a trademark catch phrase to absolve him of blame.

Did I Do That?



Find the audio here. ...I warned you.



Blossom

Joey Lawrence played Joey Russo, Blossom's slow-witted jock brother. While Joey may not have been particularly adept at schoolwork, he was skilled in extreme repetition of the word, "Whoa!" It really worked for him, considering he was relatively shocked and surprised at everything. Before you knew it, we were all whoa-ing right along with him. By the way, have you seen a recent photo of Joey? I'm pretty sure you have, considering he danced with the stars, but really, it's enough to make you say, well, whoa.


Woah!





Southpark

Southpark was not particularly revered for its subtlety. It's humor was more along the lines of crass and juvenile than nuanced and sophisticated. Co-creators Matt Parker and Trey Stone's juvenile humor is well-suited to their third grade subjects, though the level of appropriateness is probably a bit beyond elementary. In each episode of the first five or so seasons, major character Kenny McCormick was brutally killed in some unspeakable way. With each coming death, one of his friends would inevitably exclaim, "Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!" While the gag has since been largely abandoned, it was a predominant theme in early seasons. In typical cartoon fashion, by the time the next episode aired there was Kenny, alive and well without explanation.

Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!





The Simpsons

The Simpsons' cultural impact is so immense that they actually managed to impact the gold standard of language: the dictionary. That's right, the Oxford English Dictionary actually began including the phrase is its 2001 edition. Though originally billed simply as "annoyed grunt" in production scripts, voice actor Dan Castallanetta did his magic and left and lasting impact on our language.

D'Oh!



Homer isn't the only Simpson to infiltrate our language: son Bart has left quite the indentation himself. Bart's recognizable phrases are vast, though they were far more prevalent in early seasons. Here's a light smattering of these once-delightful but now decidedly overused Bart-isms:

Don't Have a Cow, Man!




¡Ay, caramba!




Cowabunga




Eat my Shorts





Dinosaurs:

Baby Dinosaur was right, you know. Who doesn't love babies? Especially baby dinosaur puppets? You'd have to have a heart of steel to not aww just ever so slightly at his misshapen-headed appearance. Baby was rather lovable, and sought to remind us of it at every turn. My all time favorite incarnation of Baby's catch phrase is in his inexplicably entertaining music video:


I'm the baby, gotta love me!






Who Wants to Be a Millionaire:

Who doesn't love a good dose of suspense? I certainly imagine Regis Philbin and the producers of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? were pretty partial to it. Hence all of the hemming and hawing and dun-dun-dun music. It's all enough stress to give you a heart attack, even if you're just playing along at home. Perhaps the most suspenseful moment was in Regis's poker-faced delivery of, "Is that your final answer?" The question was enough to make even the most confident of contestants hesitant to commit. The show's immense popularity meant this phrase was everywhere, from coffee mugs to t-shirts, leaving most of us wishing that he'd just let the contestant decide for himself already.

Is that your final answer?




Naturally this list is far from complete, but it does represent some of the most overused and over-repeated television catch phrases of the 1990s. While now it is safe to reminsce on them from a safe chronological distance, at the time the casual insertion of these phrases into everyday conversation led to inevitable moans and groans. Remember folks, don't try this at home. Just because it's funny when someone making a million dollars per episode says it does not guarantee it will have a similar effect coming out of your mouth. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Reading Rainbow

Were you aware that reading allows you fly approximately two times as high as a butterfly in the sky? And that reading enables you to simultaneously be both anywhere and anything? Powerful stuff. Thankfully, as an avid watcher of Reading Rainbow, I was keyed in on this kind of insider literate knowledge. That mesmerizingly soothing theme song drew me in time after time:

Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high
Take a look, it's in a book - Reading Rainbow.

I can go anywhere!
Friends to know and ways to grow - Reading Rainbow.

I can be anything!
Take a look, it's in a book - Reading Rainbow.

Reading Rainbow, Reading Rainbow, Reading Rainbow, Reading Rainbow!



Hosted by LeVar Burton, Reading Rainbow was an educational children's television series created in the 80s to encourage elementary-age children to read. While initially a summer exploit, its popularity soon propelled it into a year-round venture. Reading Rainbow was a touchy-feely approach to children's book-learning, combating the evils of distracting adversarial forces of literature.

Like TV.

What's that you ask? Wasn't Reading Rainbow on TV? So what you're telling me is that kids were encouraged to watch TV as a measure to get them away from mindless television entertainment and into a cozy literate environment?

Yep. That's exactly what I'm telling you. Glad to see we're on the same page. Or in this case, channel.

Sure, it seems vaguely counter-intuitive, but Reading Rainbow was probably a welcome shift from the mind-numbing children's television entertainment that predominated the airwaves in the 80s and 90s. I suppose if parents were forced to choose a TV program to babysit their children, they may as well go with the lesser of two evils. At least the kid might get to see Billy Cosby reading an Arthur book in one of his trademark sweaters.

Everyone knows the best way to prove your love of reading children's books is to submerge yourself in them completely

Yes, Reading Rainbow featured a vast spectrum (insert groan here) of celebrity guest readers. Not just public television celebrities like Snuffleupagus or Lambchop, but real living, breathing celebrities that parents had actually heard of. People like Julia Child, James Earl Jones, Maya Angelou, Gilda Radner, and Richard Gere showed up to narrate a children's book, all in the name of child literacy. Admirable, no?

The show was more than just on-screen reading, though. Each episode generally reflected a single theme, featuring multiple books, children's reviews, and segments on issues like diversity, new experiences, self esteem, and most importantly, The Library. Reading Rainbow loved The Library. Like got-down-on-one-knee-and-proposed-to-pledge-eternal-love love. Every two minutes, we'd get another cheery plug for visiting our local library. God forbid any of us readers support the featured authors themselves by heading out to purchase the books.

Okay, okay, I admit I'm being a bit facetious. I love the library. It was one of my most favorite hangouts at a child. Actually, as a kid there's no way I would have noticed any TV show plugging anything. My favorite Saturday morning cartoons could have been surreptitiously selling me crack cocaine and I wouldn't have even an inkling that the show had been sponsored by the crack industry. I suppose there are worse things than a couple of relatively subtle nudges to go visit my local library. I retract my previous barb.


Reading Rainbow was more than adept at achieving its ultimate goal of encouraging children to read. It's format was simple, but it got results. Parents were pleased to see their kids getting excited about reading. Kids were pleased to see their parents excited about letting them watch TV. Everyone was a winner.

If your parents were either nerds or suckers for historical miniseries, they no doubt trusted deeply in the educational guidance of LeVar Burton. Known for his roles in both Star Trek: The Next Generation and Roots, Burton was a pretty credible source. That's not even counting his contributions to the planet as Kwame on Captain Planet. Oh, LeVar. Is there anything you can't teach?

If your parents did happen to be Trekkies, they were able to geek out with LeVar every now and then. In the segment below, he gives a behind the scenes look at the making of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Prepare to be beamed out of your minds:



Personally though, my favorite segment was usually the kids' very own book reviews, I am proud to present a short segment of a review, posted on YouTube by the star herself who no doubt now deeply regrets her choice in lenswear. But you don't have to take my word for it*:



Well, that's all we have for you today, kids. In the ever-wise words of Mr. Burton himself, I'll see you next time.**




*In the case that you were unaware, this was Mr. Burton's opening catchphrase prior to the children's reviews
**This was the closing catchphrase. I know, I know. My use of it in my own closing was pretty deep and symbolic. You don't have to tell me. Now it's off to enjoy my weekend after all of that deep-thinking about metaphorical reinterpretations. Oh yeah, and see you next time.

Hypercolor

Oh, thermochromic dye. You've been so good to me. I really enjoy the way you point out my topographical sweat and body temperature patterns to everyone within a 2 block radius. Don't even get me started on your uncanny and limitless ability to entertain myself via the imprint of my own hand. Thermochromic dye, you've done us proud.

We all know fashion and function are often mutually exclusive concepts. The basic Maslovian need for clothing to keep us warm and relatively unexposed is pretty far away from the actual items lining department store racks. The aesthetic isn't always our reliable guiding principle. If you grew up in the 80s and 90s, you certainly know that clothing was not meant to be flattering. What, you mean people actually wear clothing to accentuate their finer physical attributes? Don't make me laugh. I'm talking a strict clothing diet of zebra-stripe Zubaz and oversized eye-burningly neon t-shirts and that's that.



Hypercolor was a perfect example of alleged fashion over function. The novelty factor on these items of clothing was high, with the practicality registering remarkably low. Hence the hottest (pun intended) fashion necessity came in the form of a temperature sensitive t-shirt with a remarkable ability to change color. Sounds harmless enough, right? That is, until every soon-to-be-traumatized-for-life kid on the playground learned that sweat is indeed warm. There's nothing quite like a blue shirt with pink armpits to highlight your body's more embarrassing modes of temperature regulation.

Regardless of potentially awkward social scenarios, hypercolor t-shirts were activated by all types of forces, each of which we immediately manipulated upon discovery. All sorts of otherwise unexceptional stimuli--a warm breath, a sweaty palm, the blast of a hair dryer--suddenly morphed into incredible modes of self-entertainment. Not to mention they made great party tricks*.

The dancing in this commercial makes me want to go get a hi-top fade haircut and don some Hammer pants, stat

Novelty clothing like hypercolor has the effect of immediately producing a frenzied response among sheep-like consumers. That is to say, people couldn't wait to get their hands (literally, for its inevitable ensuing color variance) on these t-shirts. Unfortunately for hypercolor producers Generra, these frantic trends tend to fade pretty quickly. In this case, the fade was often literal as hypercolor t-shirts soon hung languidly in our closets, far, far away from the sunlight needed to activate its powers.

Hypercolor left great temporary evidence on inappropriate gropage. He looks pretty pleased with his results.

None of us were particularly used to our shirts having their own unique chemical balance that was highly sensitive to outside stimuli. Children were major target demographic for hypercolor, and we all know how careful kids are with their clothing. Considering these t-shirts were prime sportswear options for all sorts of mess-necessitating experiences, our colors were frequently warped through accidental misuse. One minute a kid's drinking a hearty cup of hot cocoa, the next his shirt is permanently splattered from heat damage.

This doesn't even begin to cover the ensuing hypercolor effects found in one of Generra's other significant markets, ravers who would later appear blurrily on Dateline NBC. Though Stone Phillips could blur the ravers' faces out, their shirts had already done the work for him. There's nothing quite as appealing as scoping out potential rave mates as they dance maniacally to European techno, thus soaking their shirts with multicolored sweat. Then again, those kind folks had the glowsticks and ecstasy to distract them, so it may not have been as serious a factor. Bless their hearts.



The washing machine was another veritable adversary of the hypercolor t-shirt. Anyone who's ever done laundry for a child knows the frighteningly unhygienic mountain of germs that awaits with each load. It's only natural to combat this dirtiness with its natural enemy: the hot water setting. Our poor hypercolor shirts walked the laundry plank, blissfully oblivious of the sad fate they would meet in the deadly spin cycle. While they ignorantly assumed they would be unaffected by the harsh inner-washer climate, they soon were unintentionally subjected to permanent damage. You know what thermochromic dye does when it interacts with heat? Changes hues. You know how much heat is in a washing machine set to "hot"? You don't even want to know. The permanently crappy tie-dye-esque resultant t-shirt was evidence enough.

Despite these obstacles, hypercolor enjoyed significant popularity at the height of its color-changing fame. It was a fad at its best; unreliable, unnecessary, and unexplainable. Just as quickly as Generra's innovation had risen to schoolyard fame, it rapidly waned to the unfortunate point at which the company declared bankruptcy. Lucky for us, however, this did not forever close the book on hypercolored garments.**

According to the LA Times, just one year ago hypercolor was slowly creeping its way back into circulation. Who knows? By next summer, it may be everywhere. We can all be grateful they're taking a different approach, like these Puma sneakers. Hipster paradise American Apparel has also taken a wiser route to the now-retro hypercolor t shirt: by referring to it as Thermochromatic. While the word "hyper" appealed to our early 90s raver eurotrash raver mentality, the current technology-crazed generation much prefers technical terms they don't understand. So go forth and enjoy your reinvented thermochromatic t shirt. Just don't forget to slather on the deodorant.

Next stop on hypercolor's whirlwind comeback world tour: thermochromatic toilet seats. Best way to avoid sitting on a grossly warm recently used toilet seat. Take the plunge into the latest hypercolor technology here

*For fourth graders, at least
**I know, I sensed your panic there for a second. Don't worry though. Just find your way to an American Apparel and your hypercolor craving symptoms should clear up in 6-10 business days. Or however long it takes you to become an ironic irreverent hipster. Either one.