Just in case people were starting to lose track of my born-on date, I decided I would introduce a new series of posts called “I Remember.” These posts will serve to a) alienate my younger readers and b) make my older readers feel bad about their age and therefore themselves.
I remember when Sesame Street, The Electric Company, and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood were literally the only programs on television for kids. And they were all boring as shit. But WE WERE HAPPY TO HAVE THEM. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that if we missed them, we were completely fucked. Because NO VCRs BACK THEN, BITCHES.
I remember when The Dukes of Hazzard’s balladeer/narrator was known as Waylon Jennings, not as “that one dead dude whose kid had that one song on Sons of Anarchy and also made an album with Stephen King or something.”
I remember when the “six million” in The Six Million Dollar Man actually sounded like a shitload of money. Today it just sounds half-ass and shoddy. “Oh, so you’re The Six Million Dollar Man? What did that six million dollars buy you, a cochlear implant? Not even? Go fuck yourself.”
“LOOOOOVE/ EXCIIIIITING AND NEWWW/ COME ABOOOAARD/ WEEEE’RE EXPECTING YOOOOUU…”
“…AAAAND LOOOOOVE/ LIFE’S SWEETEST REWARD/ LET IT FLOOOWWW/ IT FLOAAAATS BACK TO YOUOOUUUUuuuuuu”
I remember thinking The Prisoner was the most bomb-ass thing on television even though I was way too young to understand it. And, in fact, did not understand it. But I watched it anyway. Because
Patrick McGoohan reasons.
I remember being absolutely scandalized by The Benny Hill Show. “OH MY GOD. THAT GUY JUST GRABBED THAT LADY’S BOOB. ON TELEVISION. DOOMSDAY APPROACHES.” Now I watch full-blown oral sex on shows like Six Feet Under and Banshee and I’m all: “Eh.”
I remember when The Golden Girls wasn’t cool, nobody wanted to watch it, and Betty White did not have one ounce of hipster street cred.
I remember when MTV began and the only artists you ever saw on it were The Buggles, Pat Benatar, Men at Work, and Human League. And yet, despite that, it was the coolest channel that ever existed. Ever.
Speaking of MTV, I remember pretending to go to bed on Sunday nights, then keeping myself awake so that I could sneak into the living room later and watch 120 Minutes. Sure, on Monday mornings I would look like zombie barf, but come on. Jesus and Mary Chain? The Cure? PiL? Worth it.
I remember when Alex P. Keaton revealed he wasn’t a virgin on Family Ties. I was all “OHMYGOD WHAAAAAAAAAT HEHADSEXXXX????” (Seriously, do you remember what Michael J. Fox used to look like? He probably lost his virginity as a fetus.)
I remember when Jem was truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.
I remember when cable boxes looked like this:
Still, as ugly and bulky as they were, they granted you access to scrambled soft core porn, that sweet mistress of my adolescence. Oh, scrambled porn. Wherefore art thou now, scrambled porn? *kisses two fingers* *pours one out for scrambled porn*
Well. I think that scrambled porn is a perfectly good note to end on, don’t you?
BUT THIS IS A BETTER ONE!
What? You’re going to have that stuck in your head all day? I am SO. SORRY.*