500 Followers and a Special Ask Children of the 90s Extravaganza

In typical self-congratulatory blog fashion, I've got to hand it to myself. I have achieved my goal at tearing hundreds of unsuspecting 90s children away from their pressing school and office to-dos all in the name of some hearty nostalgia. Yesterday I finally reached a milestone 500 blogger followers with the help of my blog friend Sadako at Dibbly Fresh. Of course, with all of the readership statistics available these days, it's hard to benchmark any progress. I'm not going to let those stats get in the way of celebration of this pure, undiluted 90s victory. Thank you for your understanding, and I humbly (sort of) accept your accolades.

Before I let my head explode from the outpouring of good reader vibes, let me say that you readers are the lifeblood of Children of the 90s. For some unknown, writing experiment-fueled reason, I've been churning out 1000+ words daily on topics near and dear to our childhood selves with zero cash income. That's right, you uphold this free service with your support, comments, and hilarious additions in the comment section. All in all, it's fun because of you all, so thanks for your reading and/or lurking. It's much appreciated.

As a thank you for your loyal devoted readership, I'd like to extend an exciting limited-time offer to you. Well, maybe don't get too excited till you hear what it is. I doubt this has got any sort of bootleg sales black market value. And really, it might not be all that exciting. Damn, that anticipatory build-up can really come back to get you.

Okay, here goes: Here's your chance to ask your loyal 90s chronicler any and all burning questions. If you have anything at all you want to ask, drop it in the comment section. In an ideal world, we'd all celebrate by chugging Surge, bedazzling each other's jean jackets, and playing a zit-sticker frenzied game of GirlTalk! Unfortunately Surge has since been discontinued, my EZ 2DO bedazzler gave out ages ago, and and I'm pretty sure my mom sold my GirlTalk! game at a yard sale. We're going to have to settle for the next best thing, so ask away.

If you don't have any pressing curiosities, feel free to just stop by the comment section and say hi. I have the handy aid of Google Analytics to let me know how many of you read each day, and it's rarely reflected in the comments. The percentage of lurkers here seems to be extraordinarily high. Don't be shy. I'd love to meet you. Heck, I'd even read your blog. Reveal yourself, lurkers. It's time.

And if you're thinking this post is a huge cop-out and a negligent disregard for my otherwise rigorous weekdaily posting standard, you might be right. Before you go on getting too grumbly over the matter, let me assure you that I have not forgotten to provide you with a doctor-recommended dose of 90s child-specific wit. In celebration of my blog buddy Andy's upcoming birthday, I am guest posting over there today. In case you don't already read his blog, he's hilarious--I highly recommend you check it out. Anywho, you can find today's birthday-inspired post over at Wild ARS Chase.


Oh, and by the by, we've been tossing around the idea of making some kick-ass Children of the 90s t-shirts. Let me know if you'd be up for purchasing one of these bad boys. For an as-of-yet undetermined cut-rate price, you too can sport the proud declaration that you are indeed a Child of the 90s. Oh, and your back can serve as a handy advertisement for my blog, meaning when you leave someone you're really just leaving them with the gift of humor-tinged nostalgia. Who wouldn't want that? Really, it sounds just wonderful.

So thanks, fellow Children of the 90s, for your continued readership and support. You guys are da bomb, and I can say that because it makes sense to all of you in a cultural context. I'm browsing for some very exciting 90s-themed giveaway items, too, so stay tuned for that. Y'all are all that and a bag of chips and don't you forget it.

Yak Bak and Talkboy

It's amazing to think we could have once derived hours of entertainment from a simple recording device. Nowadays I'm lucky if the television and computer can briefly captivate me with their collective charms. One means of technology is no longer enough. We've become so accustomed to complete technological inundation that it's tough to recall a time when we could still get worked up about a basic electronic function. Back in our as-of-yet-un-embittered days of innocent youth, though, a tape recorder was more than enough to pique our collective interest.


I'm equally amazed that the toy marketplace made room for not one but two major brands of basic tape portable kid's tape recorders. We were apparently once so desperate to record and play back soundbites from our everyday lives that we required an array of different features and options. Their functions remained pretty simple, though, particularly in contrast to today's crazily complex contraptions for kids. We didn't know about iPhones. We just wanted our Yak Baks.

The two toys served generally similar functions, but they did each have their unique appeal. Let's delve into the exciting world of 1990s voice recorder technology, shall we?



The Talkboy


The Talkboy actually originated as a fictional toy, costarring with Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. As the film title implies, Kevin is indeed lost in New York. He uses his then-prop Talkboy toy to record his voice and slow its speed to a crawl to change the pitch. Apparently it makes him sound adult enough to check into a hotel or something.


Either way, fans went nuts for the Talkboy. The fact that it didn't exist wasn't enough of a deterrent to curb the incessant demand for Talkboy ownership. Fans wrote letters begging for a full-scale release of the toy. Tiger Electronics was up for the challenge and churned out a real working handheld version of the once-fake toy.

Demand for these was massive. Stores couldn't keep them stocked. The film tie-in must have accounted for most of the hype, considering the Talkboy's functions were pretty limited. It was a standard handheld tape recording device with a little moveable microphone. Like the Home Alone version, it featured a speed change scale, allowing one to either sound like Alvin, Simon, or Theodore or what I imagine to be the voice of a dying robot. Behold, the glorious and much overplayed TV ad:




Oh, how I yearned for one of these bad boys. The sheer potential for mischief was a major selling point. The second that kid in that commercial changed his voice to a slow low-pitch and played his "Hi kids, we're home early!" recording, I was sold. I mean, how hilarious is that? His sister was going to make out with that guy, and then Talkboy intervenes and messes up her otherwise well-orchestrated date night. What a toy.

The Talkboy went through a series of incarnations, including a pastel-hued Talkgirl model and the Talkboy FX Plus. The FX Plus upped the havoc-wreaking quotient by several degrees of adult-irritating potential. It housed our illicit recording device in an unassuming writing utensil, allowing us to engage in all sorts of practical jokery in the classroom. As you can imagine, our teachers were absolutely thrilled.



The Yak Bak



The Yak Bak was generally cheaper than the Talkboy, giving it parental appeal but earning it some playground trash talking. The original couldn't quite live up to the big screen fame of its direct rival, the Talkboy, but it was not without its voice recording charms. The Yak Bak 1.0 was more compact than a Talkboy, but lacked some of the important mischief-inducing speed change technology. It had only two buttons, "say" and "play". Pretty straightforward, really, but entertaining nonetheless.

Check out the Yak Bak ad at 0:30

Later models gave us better and more competitive features. The second version included the speed warp function, putting it in direct competition with the Talkboy. After this major improvement, though, the changes got a little ridiculous. They give you a feeling that the Yak Bak development team was sitting around their work room table, throwing out whatever ideas came to mind, and instantly shoving them into production. We had Yak Bak watches, Yak Bak Yalp (reversal), Yak Bak room intruder alarm, Yak Bak football. You name it, they Yakked it Bak. They even made a recording pen to try to show up the Talkboy version, which was difficult considering they were almost exactly the same toy.

The Yak Bak may not have been quite as iconic as the Talkboy, but it served its purpose. After a few upgrades it could perform mostly functions equally entertaining to that of the Talkboy. Unfortunately for the Yes! Gear toy manufacturers, their product had never starred in a major motion picture and was thus judged inferior. Either way, you held in your hands the portable capability to mock your friends and family through the cunning use of playback.


In an age when we are constantly plugged into the newest and most provocative technology, it can be tough to remember when a simple recording of a friend's voice was enough to have us rolling on the floor with uncontrollable laughter. Don't worry though, you can have more than your memories. You can actually download a Yak Bak-esque app for your iPhone. Finally, your chance to enjoy the one device the Yak Bak people never thought up: a combination Yak Bak and phone.

Beethoven

Kid's movies have a unique way of defining villains. They eliminate that pesky gray area between right and wrong and give us a starkly black and white portrait of morality. They also wrap up everything into a neatly PG-rated package and tie it with an age-appropriate bow. While real life bad guys are out there engaging in acts of sociopathic lunacy, our ever-reliable children's movie villains are trying to kidnap suburban housepets for scientific experimentation purposes. You've got to hand it to these writers; they have an uncanny way of shifting the bad guy from a reprehensible scum of the earth to one deserving of a time-out and dessert withholding.

Such in the phenomenon in Beethoven, where the worst offense a character could commit is to be a naughty veterinarian hell-bent on neighborhood puppy domination. The movie conveniently scales everything down a bit, putting the plot at child eye-level. It's a scary enough world out there without filmmakers planting night terror-inducing concepts in the minds of impressionable children. Instead, it's best to keep things simple. An adult might not buy it, but a child will be able to sleep better at night if their worst imaginable nemesis is a puppy kicker rather than a mass murdering psychopath.

Beethoven captures the simplicity of an ideal children's movie. Sure, it's got it's fair share of adult characters and parental story lines, but it mainly focuses on the exploits of a mischievous but ultimately heroic dog. Rather than trying to woo us with flashy graphics and special effects, it gives our heatstrings a deliberate tug through the cunning use of adorable oversized animals. All in all, some pretty effective methodology.



The film opens on a St. Bernard's daring escape from the clutches of the aforementioned unrelentingly evil veterinarian. The puppy finds shelter in a quiet suburban neighborhood, much to delight of the household's children. The Newton parents aren't quite on board with it, but it's tough to resist those little puppy dog eyes. He responds positively to one of the kids playing Beethoven's Fifth on the piano and earns the moniker Beethoven. Let the games begin.

Beethoven quickly launches in a montage of memorable and iconic St. Bernard moments. So memorable, in fact, that recently when I mentioned a St. Bernard to my mother she said, "Oh, I don't like that kind of dog. They always get all wet and shake the water off all over the bed." To which I responded, "Are you sure you're not just thinking of that scene in Beethoven? I'm pretty sure that's what you're talking about." She conceded, though she didn't eliminate the possibility that this was simply par for the course with St. Bernard behavior. If you happen to own one, let me know if this in-bed dry off is a standard St. Bernardism. Either way, the movie obviously had quite the impact on our impression of large dogs.



While Beethoven can be destructive, he's got his charms as well. He assists the oldest daughter in conversation with the guy she likes and comes to rescue of the other siblings in respective dangerous situations. It looks like he's a keeper, despite his ever-expanding proportions.

Unfortunately, his unsuspecting owners aren't privy to the evil veterinarian's plan to dognap their newest and largest family member. Because in the world of movies, there's apparently only one veterinarian in the whole town, our trusting family just happens to take Beethoven to the evil guy for a check up. That's right, the same evil guy Beethoven escaped from at the beginning of the movie. The vet tells the Newtons that St. Bernards are prone to attack, thus planting the seed for further animal cruelty-related trickery later in the movie.

There's a whole story going on with some business people who are trying to rip off the Newtons through a shady deal, but Beethoven yet again proves he's worth the Costco-proportioned amounts of food they feed him daily. He drags the couple around on the ground, they're all pretty angry, the deal is off. Nice work, pup.


Our evil vet Varnick returns to the Newton's house, because apparently this guy lives and breathes the capture of a single St. Bernard in a town populated with thousands of other dogs. I guess these experiments require a uniquely Beethoven quality, because Varnick is relentless in his pursuit. He pretends he's just checking in, only to stage a bogus dog attack. The kids are suspicious, but the adults acquiesce to Varnick's demand that Beethoven be euthanized.

Mr. Newton has a heart after all, and decides the family should go after Beethoven and put a stop to his imminent death. Varnick tries to play them, saying that the dog has been put to sleep, but our heroic family doesn't fall for it. The Newtons surreptitiously follow Varnick to the sketchy facility where he performs his illicit pet experiments. They save Beethoven, the cops arrest Varnick, and the family takes in a pack of other dogs freed from Varnick's clutches. Cheesy, yes, but heartwarming too.

If you've somehow managed to repress this movie or just never got around to seeing it, here's your chance. Behold, Beethoven in 5 seconds via The Guy with the Glasses


The ORIGINAL Beethoven In 5 Seconds - Funny videos are here

Of course, the story doesn't end here. If you head to video store (I'm not sure they still even exist, but just come with me on this one) you'll see rows and rows of Beethoven movies, including innumerable sequels and an animated series. Here's the direct follow up that still features most of the original cast, before they start with the subpar direct-to-video crap.



The movie's simplicity and kid appeal was more than enough to both win us over and make us yearn for a similarly valiant pet. I can't imagine the sheer number of children who left this movie begging their parents to please, please, please let them have a dog. Most of us were probably banking on the off chance that our future fluffy friend would aid in uncovering a ring of experiment-based animal abuse, so we may have been setting our expectations a bit too high. Still, though, there's something innately reassuring about a world where the worst crime a person could commit is to steal a dog or two. It may not have been the most realistic worldview, but it allowed us a slightly extended age of cinematic innocence. Thanks, Ivan Reitman. This almost makes me want to forgive you for scaring the bejeezus out of my childhood self with Ghostbusters.