Going through some of my notes (take good notes, kids.  You never know when there’ll be a quiz.) Making observations.  Pondering things.  Coming to realizations and conclusions. Here, then, are two of them.

The modern music video was invented by the late-60’s early-70’s classic “Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?”  Seriously.  Remember that cartoon?  The original.  Not that Scrappy-Doo blasphemy.  Anyway, in the second or third season, they started adding these chase scenes near the end with Scoob, Shaggy, etc. running back and forth, avoiding the “monster” by hiding in cupboards, in and out of rooms in a long hallway, running SMACK DAB INTO THE SPOOK and then turning, running in place for an agonizing second before shooting off again…and all the while, this insipid Davey Jones-style pop music played in the background.  For example, fast-forward to about the :45 mark of this classic…

There wasn’t any need for this sort of montage, really, except to fill time. But the effect was solid, and the producers/directors continued using this device even into the more modern incarnations and movies, such as “Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School.”  The only difference was the use of more modern pop-punk Save-Ferris rip-offs, but they’re still there.  But take a moment to consider cartoons and television in general before, say, 1972.  Can you imagine an episode of “Dragnet” with a long musical montage of Joe Friday kicking open doors and rousting hop-heads?  (Actually, that sounds pretty awesome.) Or if that famous candy-conveyor-belt bit from “I Love Lucy” had a cool Perry Como ditty playing behind it?  It just never occurred to anyone to do that.  Then, about ten years later, bands started making their own Scooby-Doo chase scenes to promote their tunes; they just forgot to add Scooby-Doo.  However, note that Matthew Sweet’s ‘Girlfriend’ video was almost completely re-purposed anime footage.  A few years later, Mr. Sweet would cover the Scooby-Doo theme song.  THAT’S what you call full circle, ladies and gents.

Gather ’round, children, and I’ll tell you the tale of the early-90’s. When Matthew Sweet was a rock star, and not…well…whatever he is now.

Another observation:  I have been showing my dick to fewer and fewer people.  True story.  People that know me are aware that I have a penchant for showing my junk off in the most inappropriate places and at the least beneficial times.  I do this primarily to shock people and to sow chaos, naturally.  But recently, I just…well, haven’t had the desire.  I wondered if perhaps I was growing out of my adolescence (since, you know, I’m forty-fucking-TWO now) and being responsible.  But let’s be honest:  it’s still me. Me and my penis.  So I have two hypotheses:

ONE: Everyone in Ft. Wayne has been privy to my casual “Hey, is this gum?” trick (wherein you open your fly and pull part of your scrotum through it.  Looks like pink, chewed gum at first.  Watching the realization of what they’re actually seeing creep onto your victim’s faces is priceless.  Hysterical.)  All manner of men and women have seen my casual dangle, and so there are none left to shock.  “Yeah, Turner, we know.  It’s your piece.  Great.  Can we get back to work now?”  It’s to the point that when I wear my kilt people just roll their eyes instead of fleeing in terror.  In other words, the flashing of twig and berries has lost its shock value.  Dammit.

“Soooo, nothing? Nothing at all? Damn.”

TWO: I haven’t played much hockey lately.  See, hockey players LOVE showing their units to anyone and everyone.  I think there’s some latent homosexuality to some of it, sure.  But it’s also because hockey guys LOVE chaos and pranks, and there’s no more surefire way to enjoy both than with a simple “Hey!  Look what I found!  ZZZZZZIIIIIPPPP” at a buddy’s wedding reception.  Pure comedy. Remember Johnny Upton in ‘Slap Shot’ when forced to do the fashion show?  (If you haven’t seen ‘Slap Shot’ then kindly remove yourself from my presence until you correct this.  Thank you.) That movie got so much right, and the hockey/sexuality/brazen penis talk is spot-on. I think there’s also the male-domination factor.  Literally, it’s dominating the other males by showing the ultimate in confidence.  Letting everyone see for themselves how grand or miniscule your babymaker is.  That’s a risk most won’t take, and the guy who DOES whip it out is afraid of nothing.  Not your judgement, your sense of decorum, your thoughts on his girth, the authorities, the wrath of his girlfriend…nothing.  It’s a big testosterone-fueled chest-thump of sorts.  And since I’ve been away from hockey a bit, my instincts have waned.  I’m out of shape.  I’m a fat, slovenly shell of who I once was.  Time to whip my dick out.

YES!! They TOTALLY bought it!

I been thinkin’…

Before you start, yes, I know that the title is grammatically incorrect.  I’m trying to sound like a man of the people, you see.  Don’t wanna come acrost (see what I did there?) as some high-falutin’ college boy. 

Anyway, I had some more random thoughts.  They’re not grouped by category, rather it’s ’bout to get stream-of-consciousness up in this piece, y’all! (Am I sounding more grounded?  ‘Cause to me it sounds funny.)

1. No one I know is a pedophile. Yet everybody wants to know how old Carly and Sam are (from the hit show iCarly.)

2. Jennette McCurdy DOB: 6/26/1992

Seriously, the second image that showed up in a Google image search for "pedophile."

3.”Ape Shit” is not a great analogy for something being messed-up and/or crazy.  A better analogy would be “Carrot Top cutting up a baby.”  Example: “Jeez, you should’ve seen Jerry last night after the union meeting.  He went all Carrot Top cutting up a baby!” Perhaps it could be abbreviated CaTCUB.  “The boss went CaTCUB when he found me pooping in the trash can.”

Sleep tight.

4. Remember the show “Speed Buggy?” It was a Hanna-Barbera cartoon that employed the time-tested formula of a bunch of youngsters travelling the country getting into adventures and solving crime.  It was basically “Scooby Doo!” but instead of a giant, somewhat expressive Great Dane, it was a somewhat expressive sentient dune buggy that provided the comic relief. Oh, and instead of a stoner burnout buddy, Speed Buggy’s pal was a mildy retarded mechanic.  Or something. But one thought has stuck with me since childhood concerning Speedy and the gang: why the fuck do you need three people (three!) to ride around in a car that can drive itself?  Jesus, the entire  universe in the “Cars” movies operated without a single human in sight!  Need somebody to wipe your ass, Speedy?  Good thing you’ve got Fred, Daphne, and…oh.  Sorry.  Wrong cartoon.

Not pictured: Velma.

5. Speaking of “Cars,” I wonder how many other people have wondered about the abscence of humans in the post-apocalyptic world of Lightning McQueen and company?  The answer is as simple as it is bleak.  “Cars” happens about thirty years after the events in “Maximum Overdrive.”  Sorry, gang…Emilio doesn’t make it.