Double Dare

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Why don't we offer the Physical Challenge as a viable alternative to difficult tasks anymore? It always worked for our pals on Double Dare. Just picture it. You're in a crowded classroom taking your bar exam and you come across an exceptionally confounding question. Imagine how much simpler things would be if you could simply alert the proctor you were going to take the Physical Challenge instead. You'd get up from your desk, put on the giant clown pants, and proceed to catch flying pies catapulting toward you at breakneck speed. "Pie in the Pants" was a credible recourse for baffled minds on 90s kids game shows; why not extend it to other arenas? At the very least, it would give some much needed excitement and spontaneity to those boring hours-long tests.

In actuality, not much of the Double Dare world translates into real life. It's a testament to the show's creators' creativity--or insanity, depending on your sense of whimsy and wonder. It was like some sort of alternate kid fantasy universe: children slimed their parents, slid down a giant Sundae Slide, and went home with armloads of cash and prizes. It was crazy and nonsensical and criminally messy, but it was undeniably pure kid-driven fun.

It's another one of those Nickelodeons 80s and 90s anomalies where you'd just got to wonder what was running through the network executives' respective heads when the Double Dare creators pitched them the show. "We open with a messy challenge, see. Then we move onto a random, disjointed trivia round that's actually an excuse to stump kids and have them opt for an even messier challenge. Next, the team with the most points attempts an utterly insane obstacle course, searching for flags in piles of sloppy food, swimming through vats of jello, running on a giant hamster wheel, and monkey barring their way over to the spewing Gak Geiser. If they make it, they go to space camp and get to thow up on one of those anti-gravity simulation spinny rides. How does that sound?" To which we can only imagine the Nickelodeon bigwigs replied, "Excellent! We'll take 500 episodes."

The show went through a series of reformatted and re-imagined incarnations, but the underlying structure remained the same. First up, we had Super Sloppy Double Dare:



It seems the major differentiating feature of Super Sloppy Double Dare was that it was not just regular sloppy but indeed super sloppy. The original version of Double Dare was messy, but SSDD brought disgusting sloppiness to a whole new level. The challenges existed for the sole purpose of creating the most explosive mess imaginable. This version had more thematic episodes and gimmicks, but the main change was probably in the significant increase in the number of janitors employed by the show.

There was the quickly-dropped Celebrity Double Dare concept:



This version never actually made it into production, so all we have to remember it by is this pilot footage. It was mostly like Double Dare, but everything was just a tiny bit off, meaning fans would probably never accept it. It was hosted by a feathered-haired Bruce Jenner, who depending on your generation is either that dashing Wheaties box-gracing Olympian or the frozen-faced dad on Keeping Up With the Kardashians.


Next up we had the popular Family Double Dare:

This clip hails from the Nickelodeon (not FOX) era. Just in case you were curious.

For this version, the show had a brief stint on the Fox network in a Saturday night timeslot. As the name implies, this version pitted two families against one another in lieu of all-kid teams. Teams included two parents and two children. Families cycled through the same segments as in the original Double Dare (Opening Stunt, Physical Challenges, Triva, Obstacle Course) but it was a new plane of funny to watch adults wade through knee-deep slime ravines. The show moved back to Nickelodeon in 1990, where it continued to humiliate parents everywhere through the cunning use of pies.

We also had Super Special Double Dare, which was basically a pared down retooling of Celebrity Double Dare. We had sports stars, Nick stars, and minor celebrities competing for charity. I don't know if it necessarily lived up to its promise of being Super Special, but it was at the very least averagely special.

Unfortunately, the Double Dare book didn't close then. There was actually a Double Dare 2000 version, or as 90s children may better know it, The Version That Shall Not Be Named. Heresy, I tell you. Um, hi, they called the Obstacle Course the Slopstacle Course. Really? Really? They should be ashamed of themselves. Where's my beloved host Marc Summers? What? Relegated to an executive consultant credit? For shame.


Can you believe this was already ten years ago? Depressing, no?

Speaking of Marc Summers, Double Dare and his ever-expanding portfolio of other Nickelodeon hosting duties turned him into the poster child for irony. Unbeknownst to the world (and to Marc, until he was diagnosed at age 43), Summers suffered from obsessive compulsive disorders. Yes, that's right. The man who brought us our daily dose of super sloppiness later went on to co-author the book, "Everything in its Place: My Trials and Triumphs with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."



Double Dare lived on in syndicated reruns for many years following its 1992 cancellation. As Summers remarks in his book, "We had enough episodes on tape to do reruns forever." Indeed, the pure volume of episodes must speak to the high demand for this type of purely entertaining children's television programming. Yes, the show had a trivia question or two thrown in for good measure, but it was far from educational. It taught us something far more valuable: how to have fun and be kids. Oh, and how to dig a flag out of a Super Sloppy Blue Plate Special. I'm still thinking that one's going to come in handy someday.

90s Songs We Did Not Understand (or That Were Pretty Darn Inappropriate for Us to Like) as Children: Volume Two

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Innocence is wasted on the young. As we grow older, we learn the world isn't the squeaky clean playground we grew up believing it to be. The glossy veneer cracks, and we start to see the equivalent of a caravan of ceepy windowless vans filled with lollipop-luring sickos lurking in the shadows. Things start to get real adult, real fast, and there's just no going back to the blissful ignorance of our younger days.

It's a phenomenon that occurs in every generation. Kids hear a song on the radio, they like the rhythm or the music, and suddenly they're shocking adults everywhere by parroting the X-rated lyrics in crowded, conspicuous places. Just a few weeks back I saw a little girl at the mall merrily humming to herself, eventually segueing into, "Let's have some fun/this beat is sick/I want to take a ride on your disco stick." Needless to say, her mother was less than pleased. Mama Gaga looked generally mortified as she tried to convince her sweet little kindergartener to keep that one to herself, but she should at least be comforted by the notion that her daughter didn't mean a word of it. The little girl likes Lady Gaga because she styles her hair like Minnie Mouse and she assumes Gaga's mom doesn't force her to wear pants. It's not a philosophical alignment, it's a matter of naive juvenile taste and general wardrobe envy.

Like that little girl, so many of us likely humiliated our parents by singing what we thought were our favorite songs in busy public spaces filled with their tongue-clucking judgmental peers. We didn't mean anything by it; we didn't even marginally comprehend what we were saying. In fact, in many cases we got the illicit lyrics wrong, which made the songs all the more confusing to us as we got older and tried to unwrap their elusive meanings. For the longest time, I thought the lyrics to Ludacris's "What's Your Fantasy" were "Backseat, windows up/that's the way I like my truck." I was always sort of wondering how he could drive it if he was stuck sitting in the back. Honestly, I wasn't even that young when it came out, I just couldn't understand the words. When the song comes up on my iTunes on shuffle, I realize the entire song is a full-out graphic description. How I missed that one as a kid is a testament to the ramifications of abstinence-only sex education.

We all have those "Aha!" moments when it all comes together and we wash away the sweet innocence of youth. After reading up on some of these song lyrics, I feel like I need to wash away more than that; many of them may necessitate a cold shower. Maybe you were all far more streetwise than I at a young age, but I'm willing to guess there was some level of misunderstanding somewhere along the way. At the least, they were sure to have made our parents cringe hearing us singing along to these songs on the radio.






Crash Into Me (Dave Matthews Band)



What's more romantic than a song about a peeping tom? In his appearance on VH1's Storytellers, Matthews explained the song was about a guy watching a woman through her window. Sweet, right? The lyrics weren't exactly enigmatic; it all should have been pretty clear had I not been in elementary school at the time. I mean, "Hike up your skirt a little more/and show the world to me" isn't exactly great metaphor.

On an aside, Clear Channel Communications included this song on its memorandum to radio stations regarding lyrically questionable songs in light of the September 11th attacks. Abit of a stretch, right? It would be one thing if a song titled "Crash Into Me" was written from the point of view of a building, but this seems like an unnecessarily sensitive precaution.



Touch Myself (DiVinyls)



I know, this one isn't exactly subtle, but not all of us were savvy enough to realize two and two made four. I have no idea how this one got past the censors, but I distinctly remember doing a talent show dance to this song at summer camp. To be fair, it was the year Austin Powers came out and this was one of the few CDs our bunk had on hand, but really. We saw absolutely nothing wrong with it, but someone probably should have.



Closer (Nine Inch Nails)



To be fair, the radio edits on "Closer" were pretty extensive. Most of us had no idea that we didn't understand it until we heard an uncut version of the song. Looking at it from an adult perspective, it sounds to be about a man who attempts to escape his life through sex. "I want to feel you from the inside" should probably have been a clue, but I always thought "You bring me closer to God" meant it was a religious song.



Gin and Juice (Snoop Dogg)



I'm surprised there were any words left in the song once it was cleaned up for radio play. As a kid, I was almost positive I knew all the words to this song. It was only when I started hearing it at college parties that I realized all those muted-out spots from the radio contain actual lyrics. Who knew?



I'll Make Love to You (Boyz II Men)



Perhaps it's not so much that we didn't understand this one, but the fact that it was so inappropriately played as a slow dance song at bar mitzvahs and middle school dances. Who thinks this is a good snowball song for 11-13 year olds? I can just imagine the parents or teachers on the outskirts of the dance floor, looking on in horror as we swayed arythmically to this song. At least we were still at that age where a slow dance meant maximum distance between couples with awkward ramrod straight arms. We weren't considering the meaning, we were too busy trying not to notice the unfortunate height difference between the middle school girls and boys.


She Talks to Angels (Black Crowes)



This song definitely has a melancholy feel to it, even to a less-than-perceptive kid. Still, I never gave second thought to the meaning behind it. I just thought this chick talked to angels. Very spiritual, you know? Obviously it ran a little deeper than that, examining a woman who lost a child and turned to drugs for escape. After all these years, I never put that together. It's something of a revelation. I knew the song was sad, sure, but it runs much deeper than we ever could have realized as children.


Feels So Good (Mase)

No joke, here he is performing "Feels So Good" live on All That. For kids. Yes, it's an edited version, but those are 12-year olds rocking out in the front row

I distinctly remember buying this CD single in 6th grade and singing along to it at sleepovers with my friends. Someone would belt out, "Bad, bad, bad, boy, you make me feel so gooood" and the others would chime in on backup on "You know you make me feel so good, oh, you know you make me feel so good." We were pretty naive to the actual connotations of the lyrics, so I'm glad we could never quite understand the verses. Mumbling along is a whole lot better than hearing a 12-year old rap, "I'd hit everything from Cancun to Grant's Tomb." I still do rather like that that part that goes, "Do Mase get the ladies? Yeah, Yeah." It really is pretty catchy.


What's Your Fantasy (Ludacris)



Okay, okay, this one is pushing it. It came out in 2000, so there's almost no way any of us could have missed the subject matter on this one though we might not have been totally clear on all of the graphic references. This song got all kinds of specific. I'm still not sure I understand all of it.



Pony (Ginuwine)



I think they used to play this one at our local roller rink during birthday parties. I guess I should just be relieved that they didn't use it for a couples' skate. It's pretty explicit, so it must be a testament to the innocence of my 10-year old self. I'm not sure if they bleeped any of it or what, but my research (read: Googling) indicates that the chorus goes, "If you're horny, let's do it/ride it, my pony/my saddle's waiting/come and jump on it." Is it too embarrassing to admit I really thought it was about a guy and his pony? I was still at an age where owning a pony was the ultimate goal, so it's not that off base.


There She Goes (The La's, later covered by Sixpence None the Richer)



Upon first listen, this song sounds fairly innocent. According to the La's, it's strictly PG rated, but the rumors seem pretty convincing. "There She Goes" sounds like it's about a woman, but closer inspection of the lyrics gives us reason to believe it may be about heroin use instead. You know, "...racing through my brain/pulsing through my vein/no one else can heal my pain" and all that. The La's denied the rumor, and the public might be guilty of overspeculation, but it's definitely not something we would have picked up on as kids.


Anytime, Any Place (Janet Jackson)



Looking back, I think that the PSA-style caveat at the end of the music video should have tipped us off. It said, "Any time, any place...be responsible." To a child, that means pick up your toys and don't spend all of your allowance on ice cream. How were we to know it was a cleverly incorporated safe sex campaign?



They say you can't go back, and looking as these songs now proves that all too well. It's nice to think there was once a time when all of these references had yet to corrupt our impressionable young minds. We were free to sing out as loud as we wanted without having a clue what we were saying. Adults everywhere may have been horrified to hear us spewing this filth, but most of us were none the wiser.

Romeo + Juliet

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There's no better way to tick off the purists than to come up with some newfangled punk rock version of their treasured masterpiece and market it to teenagers. Really, nothing will get these staunch traditionalists fuming like the infusion of popular youth culture into their beloved classics. It seems their assessment of art as timeless isn't always compatible with timeliness. Sure, they might think it nice to renew an entire generation's appreciation for classical drama, but I doubt they were on board with the assertive trendiness of it all.

If you're going to fiddle with the original, chances are your resultant work will be pretty divisive. Some people are just more open to change than others. In the case of 90s adolescents, though, I the probability was far greater that they were more open to the notion of Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. Throw in a couple of attractive young stars and teenagers are willing to overlook the fact that it's the same book they've been struggling with in their 9th grade English class. Pump up the rock music loud enough and we can just about tune out the iambic pentameter altogether.


The whole thing plays out sort of like a fast-paced music video, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It might sound like Shakespeare lite, but director Baz Luhrman sticks pretty firmly to the original verse. If he'd reworked the script into slangy teenspeak-addled fluff, the effect wouldn't be quite so jarring. Instead, Luhrman simply plucks the Shakespearean characters from their Verona setting and conveniently deposits them in the surreal modern Miami-area Verona Beach. We've got guns, we've got fast cars, and we've got more "thees" and "thous" than we know what to do with. Luhrman throws the 16th and 20th centuries in a blender and gave us a delicious (and to be honest, occasionally fruity) mixture of new and old.

Like I said, it wasn't for everybody. It may not have been your particular vial of poison. Whatever your personal taste, you have to admit that it quickly morphed into a cultural phenomenon. It's hard to think of a Shakespearean tragedy as emblematic of young people in the 90s, but Luhrman's iconic updated adaptation seemed to pull it off. It was almost aggressively hip with its attractive young stars, loud music, and a drag queen Mercutio. In short, it struck a chord with young people because we had a lot in common with the film: it was the same thing people have enjoyed for generations, but it still managed to piss off adults. It was the story of our lives. You know, minus the whole star cross'd lovers bit.



Watch that trailer and tell me you don't find it just a tiny bit cool. Even critics have got to grudgingly concede that Luhrman managed to put a uniquely trendy spin on the original. It takes some pretty flowy creative juices to cast the Capulets and Montagues into gangs feuding over corporate industry turf. They may not be able to dance like their West Side Story counterparts, but they make up for it with a wealth of dramatic violence. With their sword-brand guns, of course.

The movie opens with a newscaster reporting on the star-crossed lovers, quickly segueing into a quick-paced montage of our main characters. We meet the Montagues and Capulets, but they're not quite the families we remmber from English class:


Romeo + Juliet Opening
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Things slow down a bit when our heroes get their requisite cinematic meet-cute at a masquerade party. They spot each other across an aquarium, and plunge immediately into headstrong, family-defying love. Claire Danes looks ethereal and beautiful, and Leo looks every bit as handsome as in any of his many 90s Bop! magazine appearances. It's all very romantic and subdued, especially when compared to the rest of the film's breakneck sense of urgency.



To anyone who's read or even heard of the play, what's in store for our doomed lovers doesn't come as much of a surprise. Juliet is betrothed to Paris, who doesn't seem like such a punishment when you consider he's played by Paul Rudd. Actually the casting choices in general always sort of amused me. I like Brian Dennehy as Romeo's father, but it always sort of odd to think that Romeo and Tommy Boy have the same dad. But alas, I digress. Juliet and Father Laurence hatch what they think to be a foolproof plan, but Romeo misunderstands and presumes Juliet dead. In this version, she actually wakes up and sees him after he took the poison. It's all very serious and somber until Claire Danes breaks into the fakest crying I have ever heard in my life. I love the movie and I'm a fan of Claire Danes, but that just can't go without mention. It's criminally bad.




This has become something of a love-it or hate-it kind of movie. When it came out, I loved it without question. It was edgy and cool and the cameras moved all over the place really really fast, so I was pretty sure it spoke to me on a personal level. To view it more objectively now in the more boring and analytical adult sense, I see where people find fault. I'd say if you're a naturally critical person or a purist, there's not a lot of wiggle room for liking this one. Conversely, if you're the type who is more willing to get caught up in the moment, it's far likelier you're a fan.

Romeo + Juliet performed well in theaters despite the mixed reviews. Some critics praised the film's originality and talented young stars. Others were not quite so won over by the film. Roger Ebert went so far as to remark, "The desperation with which it tries to 'update' the play and make it 'relevant' is greatly depressing." If anything, this might have just make us love the movie with greater ferocity. After all, isn't that the definitive sign of youth culture? If adults hate something, teenagers have an automatic responsibility to love it. If Romeo and Juliet could act against their parents' disapproval, the least we could do was pay homage by liking Luhrman's version.