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Hangover Theater

Who Made Steve Guttenberg a Star?

Police Academy / Brian Prisco

“When I first heard that Marge was joining the police academy, I thought it would be fun and zany, like that movie, ‘Spaceballs’. But instead it was dark and disturbing like that movie, ‘Police Academy’.” - Homer Simpson, BBBQ ESQ.

Lest you think I merely rifle TV Guide and hamfist at random, let me assure you, a lot of thoughtful thought goes into Hangover Theater selections. I equate it to delving into flea-market bins full of VHS discards and headless Barbie dolls. I would sooner play a round of chip and putt with Heather Mills’ wooden pegleg than watch a stripped-of-gore Resident Evil marathon. No Milla Jovovich’s compatriots getting julienned via lasergrid, no dice. The same with most of the “comedies” popping up on TBS and Comedy Central. An edited for television Waiting? Plucking out the gratuitous genital shots and profanity, the movie runs a tight twelve minutes. It’s an Office Space spin-off featuring Jennifer Aniston’s waitress, and just as fucking interesting. Edited content can [redacted] my [censored] [censored] with a three-toed [insert lame joke here].

Which is why it was with great trepidation I undertook this week’s viewing, Police Academy, boiled for public consumption and served up steaming on Comedy Central both Saturday and Sunday. But instead of feeling like a cheeseburger cheeseburger no coke Pepsi filleted to oblivion by a coked-up samurai Belushi, I was embraced by the soft blanket of nostalgia that envelopes me whenever me and my compadres gather over a beer or twelve to compare scars and heartily feast Odin. It was like paging through my high school yearbook, in which we were allotted a scant 25-word blurb — the honorary equivalent of having your obituary end up as hamster-cage lining. Our missives became schizophrenic haiku, letting one or two words act as proxy to four years of ridiculous mischief. But how can BLUEDEVILS truly represent the drunken ribaldry of the Duke University Scholastic Scrimmage Tournament fiasco, or DORNEYTAG stand in for hurling a Koosh at 85 MPH as we sped to our local amusement park after finals? I won’t even get into NUNBOMB. Good times, kids.

It would be far easier to sell a ketchup popsicle to a white-gloved Eskimo than to describe Police Academy as a movie that defined a generation. But when the smoke cleared, there were SEVEN Police Academy movies in total. And they never once had to fight Jason Vorhees in Hell. Or the Leprechaun in Da Hood. However, they did have to tagteam with Saruman and Hellboy in Russia. From 1984, when the very first movie hurled itself into our collective unconscious with the velocity of a spandex-clad aerobic-warrior demolishing an iPhone with a well-thrown sledgehammer, until the somber dawn of the 1990s, there was a new Police Academy released every year. They even had their own motherfucking animated series, for the love of Sweet Baby Willem Dafoe.

While it might not have gently kissed the brow of all the hoi polloi, Police Academy definitely had a major impact on my own glorious maturation. I fondly remember watching the grainy VHS copy my father had dubbed from PRISM. I couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 at the time. My father had allowed us to watch certain R-rated movies from very early on — mostly Stallone vehicles or early Mel Brooks. Ah yes, drink deep from the wellspring of my parents’ awesomeness. We’d always fast forward through sex scenes or go all Monkey See No Evil, and frankly we didn’t know any better, as at that tender age my brother and myself were several balldrops from having scrubbrush around the ol’ dingly-dangly and most of the more lurid jokes went sailing merrily over our young ragamuffin tops. Yet the nudity in Police Academy (the first one — the later ones were all a family-friendly PG-13) is not just gratuitous but utterfuckingly random, so it passed my father’s fickle fastforwarding finger. It was my first cinematic hooter, an important milestone in any boy’s life.

Police Academy was also the first movie that made me cry. No, it was not Bambi’s mother taking a Marisa Tomei monologue to the back of the dome. It was the mere thought of Officer Tackleberry blowing a kitten out of a tree. I say mere thought, because all the violence happens entirely off screen. But that canned yowl was enough to turn me into a sobbing sniveling mess. So the very movie that made me a man would moments later reduce me to a whimpering wuss. This would act as a foreshadowing of every relationship I would endure well through my diploma-procuring years.

The plot to Police Academy is asinine and paper thin. In some sort of bizarre public relations move to foster community spirit, the Metropolitan Police Department decides to open the doors of the academy to any and all takers who stagger off the street. And so we are introduced to the rag-tag bunch of misfits who will endure humiliation, raucous hijinks, and a little bit of procedural training, inevitably culminating in some sort of “inadvertent race riot” that threatens to destroy the city, only to have it neatly foiled. Then everyone gets medals. This is the basic story for every Police Academy movie, only the premises get progressively more ridonkulous until the insane tragedy climaxes in a skullfuckworthy crescendo beyond comprehension. It’s like a bus full of kindergarteners crashing headlong into a truck full of underprivileged poets/scholarship winners, which is then hit by a Cadillac driven by WWII vets, careening it into the path of a train full of Darfur refugees transporting the cure for AIDS. Then a hurricane that swept through a quilting bee devastates the mess, setting everything ablaze until a tsunami wave of redundancy decimates the remains. Then everyone inexplicably travels to Moscow for the apocalyptic finale.

Police Academy was its own self-contained universe, a speck on the flower of the 80s, populated by a veritable cornucopia of Whodats? The casts were constantly shifting; actors who had small cameos in one film would be cadets and eventually officers in the next, defying logic or any sort of reasonability. For fuck’s sake, Bobcat Goldthwait was Zed, the Down Syndromatic punk overlord of the second movie, who became a fucking cadet in the third, and then a goddamn instructor by the later films. Characters I swore were in all of the movies only came on later in the series. Lieutenant Harris (G.W. Bailey) leaves after the first film to be replaced by Mauser (Art Metrano) in the second and third, only to return shamefacedly for that sweet, sweet paycheck for films four and seven.

It is a movie that defies remake, because these actors not only embodied everything about their characters, they literally have gone to virtual anonymity once leaving the orbit of the series. Mostly they’re doing voiceover animation work, or popping up on the occasional television roles designed to have people shout, “Hey! It’s that fucking funny voices guy from Police Academy!” In some instances, it’s even managed to completely erase any semblance of former fame. Do you remember G.W. Bailey from his roles on “M.A.S.H.” or “St. Elsewhere”? No, you remember him as Lieutenant Harris, riding a motorcycle headfirst up a horse’s ass. Even now you’re going “Neeeeeeeigh! Pffft.” Did you remember that Commandant Lassard (George Gaynes) was Punky Brewster’s step-father Henry? No, you just remember him as the old guy with the fish who got blown by the bubble-gum chewing hooker under the lectern.

The names of the regulars are practically meaningless to you, like the non-actors in the death montages during the Academy Awards ceremony. Michael Winslow, David Graf, Leslie Easterbrook, G.W. Bailey, Bubba Smith, Marion Ramsey, Lance Kinsey, George Gaynes, Bruce Mahler. Nothing, right? But if were to identify them as Jones, Tackleberry, Callahan, Harris, Hightower, Hooks, Proctor, Lassard, and Fackler? It’s like the members of KISS without makeup. Many famous cadets have graduated from these hallowed halls: David Spade, Sharon Stone, a couple of Ridgemont High alumni, Colleen Camp (before her spec-rackular performance in Clue). Even Kim Catrall, back when she was Manniq-cute and not when she was peddling her desiccated beef-jerky curtains to anyone with a camcorder.

All except one man. A star crashed to earth from the heavens to call a decade his own. He was with us every footstep along the beach, except when he carried us. A man who defies my hackneyed convention of placing a swear word between first and last names: Steve Guttenberg. Can you even conceive of how big he was during the 1980s? If Diner was what launched his career, then Police Academy and the role of Carey Mahoney (a role pursued by Judge Reinhold, Tom Hanks, and Michael Keaton — all who went on to pursue lesser smartass law enforcement officials — particularly Batman) was the gasoline fight that fueled his fire. Guttenberg made the first four PA films. In between, he took his time off to star in Cocoon, Short Circuit, Three Men and a Baby, and High Spirits. You’re fucking welcome. Then he decided that he was too good for sequels, so he took off his badge and gun and rode off into the sunset in a hot-air balloon, where he promptly made Cocoon: The Return and Three Men and a Little Lady. Motherfucker would have made Three Men and Wilford Brimley Covered In Oatmeal at this point. But he never returned to the uniform of the Metropolitan Police Department, or so the legend goes. And his star softly imploded into a black hole the likes from which (save for a brief stint on “Veronica Mars” and a few sad dance steps on “Dancing With The Stars”) he was never able to recapture to his former glory.

Sure, the original movie was bizarrely racial, culminating in a mob rampage that’s quelled when they beat up Frankenstein the Indian. But it’s strangely quaint racism, like your grandfather watching a basketball game and admiring the athleticism of the coloreds. It hearkens back to a simpler time, when a star could be made from someone who didn’t fuck on nightvision with an emerging producer or rap-star, or drink a scorpion and colostomy milkshake to win a couple grand and a chance to climb an Erector set that’s on fire. So crack open the ol’ yearbook, this weekend, call up some old friends, get a little tipsy, and share memories while you watch Police Academy. Because it may not get any better than this.

Especially if you were part of the cast.

Brian Prisco is a warrior-poet from the valley of North Hollywood, by way of Philadelphia. He wastes most of his life in desk jobs, biding his time until he finally becomes an actor, a writer, or cannon fodder in the inevitable zombie invasion. He can be found shaking his fist and angrily shouting at clouds on his blog, The Gospel According to Prisco.


Eloquent Eloquence 04/04/08 | | Nim's Island Review |



Comments

It's like a bus full of kindergarteners crashing headlong into a truck full of underprivileged poets/scholarship winners, which is then hit by a Cadillac driven by WWII vets, careening it into the path of a train full of Darfur refugees transporting the cure for AIDS.

I am dying. Insert, your reviews are quickly becoming my favorite aspect of this site.

And props for referencing High Spirits, one of my favorite movies in the history of EVER.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 11:57 AM

Your metaphors are truly magical. God bless you sir. Sadly, I have never experienced the Police Academy films, and for that I am deeply shamed.

Of course, this is more my parent's yearbook than mine, but you old folk will let me in your club, right?

Posted by: tncunnin at April 4, 2008 11:58 AM

This is the perfect time to draw my comparison between Kim Cattrall and the Titanic. Once upon a time, there was this gorgeous, unsinkable paragon of construction and beauty called the Titanic. Jaws dropped to the floor when people first laid eyes on her. Everyone wanted a ride. (See where I'm going here?)

Kim Cattrall...this is back when she was hot, and young, and new to the scene! But then, sadly, she appeared to go down rather easily. Now...she feeds on blood and the essence of the young. (That's not really like the Titanic I know) She used to be this nubile beauty and now her nether bits are caked with rust and anemones.

I hear Jaques Cousteau was planning an expedition to explore her underportions right before he died, but he couldn't find equipment that could handle that many atmospheres.

Posted by: PissBoy at April 4, 2008 12:05 PM

I hear Jaques Cousteau was planning an expedition to explore her underportions right before he died, but he couldn't find equipment that could handle that many atmospheres.

Heeeee.

PissBoy: Pajiba's Unofficial Poet Laureate

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 12:08 PM

Someone at their Webster's Wheaties this morning.

Posted by: Manny at April 4, 2008 12:09 PM

"WE DO, WE DO!"

(heehee) Now will have Stonecutters song stuck in my head all afternoon.....

Posted by: MO at April 4, 2008 12:18 PM

Prisco, you are my kind of crazy.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 12:23 PM

Now will have Stonecutters song stuck in my head all afternoon.....

Ha! MO, me too :)

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 12:24 PM

*ate. Fuck.

Posted by: Manny at April 4, 2008 12:26 PM

Just to address to original question...

Jesus made Steve Guttenberg a star. Jesus.

In other news, my father went head to head with Bubba Smith (Hightower) in Super Bowl 3. My dad played on the offensive line for the Jets, Bubba obviously on the defense of the Colts. My father's charge was to block Bubba at all costs, every play, so that Joe Namath would actually have a chance to do... well... something. So my dad just blocked Bubba, and blocked and blocked and Bubba got so annoyed with my father that he directed all anger at him, leaving Namath clear to do things and win the game. Yay Jets. When I was 6 and my brother was 4, my father took the family to a Super Bowl 3 reunion of sorts, where former Jets and Colts mingled together, as friends. Except for Bubba Smith, who refused to take a picture with anyone from my family for the media, especially and specifically my father, who he refused to speak to and refused to sit near. I am 25. That was 19 years ago, 1989. Super Bowl 3 was in 1969, thirty years before Super Bowl 3 Family Fun Day.

Moral of the story? Hightower is a whiny bitch. My dad and his teammates schooled him and kicked his whiny ass. Also, f*ck him, I wanted a picture.

Posted by: David at April 4, 2008 12:29 PM

I tried to watch this movie again recently, and it wasn't... shit, no, it was bad. So was Short Circuit. Three Men and a Little Lady, not terrible, but by the second one, Guttenberg had fallen to third billing and the movie was really about Selleck.

I'd like to point out, though, that Guttenberg played the lead role in a smart-ass hi-jinks-type comedy without being an insufferable ass. He played the character as kind of quiet and pleasant, if, well, a smart-ass. By the 90s, all similar roles would be populated by loud jerks with personality and developmental problems. Jim Carrey, The Weasel, etc. I kinda miss Steve Guttenberg.

Posted by: Landon at April 4, 2008 12:34 PM

I can't believe you failed to mention Don't Tell Her It's Me.

Posted by: KateNonymous at April 4, 2008 12:40 PM

"Sweet Baby Willem Dafoe?" What, are you stealing lines out of Diablo Cody's garbage can?

Posted by: I. Ron Butterfly at April 4, 2008 12:43 PM

KateNonymous, that movie is so terrible that it circles back to being excellent. Ah Lobo and his mullet.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 12:48 PM

Being a youngin' of only 22, I grew up watching Stephen Guttenberg (Police Academy, Short Circuit, Cocoon, and The Big Green) and never matched the name with the face until he played a petter-ass on Veronica Mars.

True story.

Posted by: Bernard at April 4, 2008 12:49 PM

I just looked Steve Guttenberg up in IMDb to find out the name of that weird almost-Parent-Trap movie he did with Kirstie Alley and the Olson twins (It Takes Two, by the way) and it says that he's got five new movies coming out in 2008! Maybe he'll have a Bill Murray-style resurgence. Here's the synopsis of one of the movies:

"Heidi 4 Paws" is a live-action re-telling of Johanna Spyri's 1880 children's classic, "HEIDI", but with fully mouth-articulated dogs in all of the roles.


The Academy awaits!

Posted by: Three-nineteen at April 4, 2008 12:54 PM

David, your Super Bowl party story is most excellent. What a toolbox.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 12:56 PM

David:

That is a quality story.

Posted by: Jercq at April 4, 2008 12:58 PM

That Superbowl story sort of bums me out. Hightower was always one of my favorite charactes. And actors are always just like the characters that they play, right?

Posted by: Miss_E at April 4, 2008 12:59 PM

Ah, stonecutters. When the booze starts flowing later, you know that will be sung loudly and with utter disregard for tone or rhythm.

Posted by: HedonismBot at April 4, 2008 1:03 PM

Does that mean that Alex Karras is gay?

Posted by: Adam C at April 4, 2008 1:09 PM

Yeah, and Rosie Greer really does needlepoint. Oh, wait, he really does do needlepoint.

Posted by: BWeaves at April 4, 2008 1:24 PM

C'mon, sing it, Julie and HedonismBot! Heehee!!

Posted by: MO at April 4, 2008 1:37 PM

"A scorpion and colostomy milkshake?"

Sounds like the drinks special at this bar I know.

Posted by: The Wanderer at April 4, 2008 1:38 PM

Hee!

"Who controls the British crown?
Who keeps the metric system down?
We do! We do!"

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 1:45 PM

Man, I loved Police Academy, even if I didn't really understood what those leatherclad men in the Blue Oyster Bar were actually up to.

So instead of the Stonecutter's song, I'm humming "El Bimbo" now.

Posted by: Adere at April 4, 2008 1:46 PM

Adere,

Hearing that song always makes me laugh.

Posted by: twig at April 4, 2008 2:09 PM

"Where did you learn to speak English?"

"College! And the Police Academy movies..."

Posted by: thejodester at April 4, 2008 2:17 PM

I do like the show, but there is soooo much Simpsons that I've never seen. Is this "Homer the Great" episode related to the epigraph?

(this follows a minute or two of "what the hell are the stonecutters? I'm definitely out of this loop")

I'm very glad that Colleen Camp got some action here. Her passion for Bob unleashed to the sounds of the Blow Monkeys definitely has a soft spot in my heart.

Of course, this is more my parent's yearbook than mine And there they go making me feel old again. Did you know "Don't Tell Her It's Me" is, for some reason, also known as "The Boyfriend School"? And does anyone know WHY? No, really, why? I have no idea. For some reason, Leslie Easterbrook's "and a set of brass balls THIS BIG" comes to my mind a lot, but there's just no way to throw that into a conversation and expect it to be understood. Ever worse is "Captain Mauuuser...yowza yoooowzer".

I remember being *crippled* with laughter by "Their First Assignment". I'm not sure if I want to check on that now.

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 2:24 PM

The epigraph is actually from "Round Springfield," where Marge becomes a cop and there's a counterfeit jeans ring in their car hole. I...watch my Simpsons dvds WAY too often.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 2:36 PM

Jay

The google. Partake of its bounty.

Posted by: twig at April 4, 2008 2:38 PM

I always thought it was Car Hold

"Oh, the garaaaage. Well excuse me, Frenchy!"

"Well, what do you call it?"

"A CAR HOLD!!"

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 2:39 PM

You forgot Guttenberg's stellar turn in "Can't Stop the Music"...just looking at him makes me feel so bright-eyed and innocent again, like when I believed the Village People were straight and Guttenberg would someday rival Paul Newman in prestige and accolades.

I was so frigging young in the 80's....

but I was right about Tom Hanks when he was in Bosom Buddies. I swear I was.

Posted by: lateformyfuneral at April 4, 2008 2:43 PM

Hee, TK, now I'm not sure! And I fucked up the name, it's actually from "The Springfield Connection."

I love season six.

"Mmm...incapacitating."

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 2:44 PM

Julie, I'm a season four guy, myself. Mainly because I think that the absolute pinnacle of The Simpsons is Kamp Krusty. I... want to mate with that episode.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 2:47 PM

Personally I am fond of Treehouse of Horror episodes, but the older ones only.

Posted by: Melody at April 4, 2008 2:49 PM

Well, Melody, those have one of my favorite sequences ever:

"Dad! You shot the zombie Flanders!"

"He was a zombie?"

What can I say? I got a thing for zombies.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 2:52 PM

I love season four, four through six encompass everything I love about that show.

Six is definitely my favorite though, between Bart of Darkness, Homer the Clown, and my favorite Treehouse of Horror sketch The Shinning, the animation and comedy are seamless.

"No tv and no beer make Homer something something."
"...go crazy?"
"Don't mind if I do!!!"

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 2:53 PM

Don't you mean "Shining?"

QUIET, lad! D'ya want to get sued?!

OK, we must stop because I can (and will) do this all day.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 2:59 PM

"Sweet Baby Willem Dafoe?" What, are you stealing lines out of Diablo Cody's garbage can?

Oh, no! They're onto me! Quick, Ma! In the truck!

[cue jaunty banjoy escape music]

Posted by: insertclevernamehere at April 4, 2008 2:59 PM

Oh my godtopus, Julie, I got my dad a Simpsons bottle opener that plays that exact quote when you use it! Complete with the "whoop-whoop" craziness that follows!

I am now his favourite child.

Posted by: MO at April 4, 2008 3:03 PM

All my favorite Simpsons episodes have Phil Hartman in them. The pinnacle is "A Fish Called Selma" in season 7, with the Planet of the Apes musical.

"There's Troy McClure. I thought you said he was dead!" "No, I said he sleeps with the fishes."

"Ever hear of Planet of the Apes?" "The movie or the planet?"

"You're starring as the human." "It's the part I was born to play, baby!"

"Can I play the piano anymore?" "Of course you can!" "Well, I couldn't before."

"I hate every ape I see, from chimpanA to chimpanZ. No, you'll never make a monkey out of me!"

Posted by: Three-nineteen at April 4, 2008 3:04 PM

Oh - I forgot:

"What's wrong with me?"
"I think you're crazy."
"I want a second opinion!"
"You're also lazy."

Posted by: Three-nineteen at April 4, 2008 3:05 PM

Ha ha ha! I love that episode, Three-nineteen.

"He can talk he can talk..."
"I can siiiiiiiing!!"

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 3:08 PM

David: Great Superbowl story. However, I must nitpick: I'm fairly certain that 1969 was, in fact, twenty years before 1989.

Sorry. Again, though, great story. Although I can no longer think of Joe Namath without chuckling at his druken "Kolber Incident." Way to go, Broadway Joe.

Posted by: Sean at April 4, 2008 3:10 PM

Sideshow Bob and the field of rakes from the 'Cape Fear' parody.

*THWOCK*
Uhhuhuhurrr.
*THWOCK*
Uhuhuhuhurr.

Repeat until the end of time.

Posted by: twig at April 4, 2008 3:12 PM

Holy crap. I just did some IMDBing and Tackleberry is dead!!!

That kinda bums me out.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 3:16 PM

Aww...that's a sin, he was always one of my favorites.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 3:17 PM

TK, that news really brought tears to my eyes.

Posted by: Adere at April 4, 2008 3:19 PM

Damn, he was only 51...that's so sad.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 3:22 PM

David Graf did indeed shuffle off this mortal coil, but before he left, he was in two episodes of The West Wing from Season 2. So at least he went out on a high note.

Posted by: insertclevernamehere at April 4, 2008 3:22 PM

:snork: "The Thompsons..."

1st FBI Agent: OK Homer, when I say 'Hello, Mr. Thompson' and STEP ON YOUR FOOT, you say hello back.

Homer: Right.

1st FBI agent (stepping on Homer's foot): Hello, Mr. Thompson.

Homer (whispering to 2nd FBI agent): I think he's talking to you.

Posted by: Three-nieteen at April 4, 2008 3:24 PM

You know who really should have been in Police Academy to help end his career sooner... Joshua Jackson.

Posted by: Yen Gi at April 4, 2008 3:29 PM

you just remember him as the old guy with the fish who got blown by the bubble-gum chewing hooker under the lectern.

It's Friday, though I have not yet cracked open any alcohol,and yet this sentence still left me wondering how a fish could get blown by a hooker. Maybe it was a blowfish?

As to why "Don't Tell Her It's Me" is also known as "The Boyfriend School", I can answer that! "The Boyfriend School" is the name of a hilarious, awesome book. Someone bought the rights to the book, proceeded to strip it of all its humor and intelligence, and turned it into a movie worthy of say, an actress of Tori Spelling's stature and talent.

Read the book. Burn the movie. At least they had the decency to change the name, so people who inadvertently find it in the library won't treat it like it's covered in scorpions.

Posted by: Wednesday at April 4, 2008 3:31 PM

Umm, Hellooo
Does no one remember The Big Green??
Carey Mahoney got his Sheriff badge in small town Texas and helped guide a ragtag children's soccer team to greatness

Posted by: ivanka at April 4, 2008 3:37 PM

Sean,

Thanks for your correction. Go suck a railroad spike. I kid. I'm stupid.

BUT, I have ANOTHER story, so unrelated to "Police Academy", but f*ck it, you brought it up.

SO! Broadway Joe famously told Suzy Kolber he wanted to kiss her on ESPN during halftime of the Jets/Patriots game. Here's what you didn't see.

So Namath was getting sloshed prior to the game, while his 13 year old daughter followed alongside. This was a special reunion game, so Jets from all decades and their familes were there, including my father, mother, me, and my former boyfriend. My parents were then invited into a luxury suite with Joe and his daughter. I was relegated to my usual seats with the bf, but after the game we met up with my parents. My mother then told me this:

So apparently, ESPN brought Joe onto the field, even expressly after my father told his handlers he was in no state to do any interviews. My parents stayed up in the booth, my mother not really socializing but watching the broadcast on the corner television. Suddenly, the kissing incident goes down. She turns to my father and grabs his arm, "Dave". At this point, the news spreads in the booth. My mother immediately goes to the daughter, my father is shunted down onto the field where he grabs Joe in the hallway of the stadium, escorts him back to the booth, and sits him down on one of the stools. Joe says, "Dave get me out of here", so my father goes to find the car service and tells my mother to watch him. Upon return, my mother tells him to stand up and supports him, to which he then turns to my mother (who by the way is a gorgeous and precious flower), tells HER he wants to kiss her, and PROCEEDS TO GRAB HER CHEST. My father then grabs Joe (because no one can harm the precious flower) and drags him down to the secure elevators and shoves him in the car. Meanwhile, his daughter is still in the luxury suite! My mother, after my father has slammed the door, realizes this, screams at the car and chases it down as it begins to pull away, runs back inside the stadium and gets his daughter, brings her down, escorts her to the waiting car, and they leave. Phew.

OK, so that story is supposed to be totally secret, so don't tell anyone...

Posted by: David at April 4, 2008 3:53 PM

twig, at least you didn't use the word "google" as a verb, which gets you killed on my planet.

Besides, I'm a Yahoo! man.

Obviously I was already doing research here, I was just trying to find where the connection between the Homer quote (which is mentioned in a lot of places but without any citation. Sloppy hacks) and this Stonecutters song was, or if mention of the Simpsons just randomly made MO think of it.

(I'd thinskinnedly grumble that my powers of research were apparently being questioned, but I'm so tired of being grumpy this week and I think that headache's finally going away. Ahhhh. I think I'll open up that pomegranate wine tonight too)

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 3:59 PM

Jay, I just googled pomegranate wine.

Yeah, suck it buddy.

I kid.

Only not.

But kind of.

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 4:13 PM

Who leaves Atlantis off the maps,
Who keeps the Martians under wraps,
We Do! We Do!

Posted by: HedonismBot at April 4, 2008 4:14 PM

David: ha! I love knowing more about the backstory that spawned the name of one of my favorite blogs.

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 4:18 PM


"...go crazy?"
"Don't mind if I do!!!"

My husband is fond of saying this often.

I love Treehouse of Horror. Willie is my favorite secondary character. Of course, this is a close tie with Sideshow Bob.

Posted by: Melody at April 4, 2008 4:22 PM

Oh, TK, I know I fight the long defeat, but I must fight on. (I got the bottle for Christmas but I've been slightly wary of trying it)

Someday they're gonna chain me down in Room 101 and give me a laptop, an ipod, a bluetooth phone, a browser that only goes to google and tell me that if I ever want *any* coffee again it's gonna come from Starbucks but now they won't give me any unless I use their terms for sizes.

Julia!!! NOOOOOO!!!!

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 4:25 PM

Oh and thank you, Wednesday.

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 4:26 PM

I love Willie!

"Lunchlady Doris? Have ya got any grease?"

[rips off shirt]

"THEN GREASE ME UP WOMAN! There's nary an animal that can outrun a greased Scotsman!"

Posted by: TK at April 4, 2008 4:26 PM

Ah the memories. This too was my first glimpse boobies. I got the old Betamax machine when the new fangled VHS came home. I was checking out all the tapes we had dubbed and tah-dah, BOOBS. Taught me the value of the slo-mo button.
Thanks for the Prism shout out. I long for the days when one channel could carry every local sports team, first run movies, and hardcore porn!

Posted by: sevngang at April 4, 2008 4:37 PM

When Bubba Smith was in college, the students would wear pins that said "Kill, Bubba, Kill" on them. How's that for progressive?

Posted by: Nadha at April 4, 2008 4:37 PM

When Bubba Smith was in college, the students would wear pins (during football season) that said "Kill, Bubba, Kill" on them. How's that for progressive?

Posted by: Nadha at April 4, 2008 4:38 PM

Treehouse of Horror V was definitely the best one. As already said, the Shinning was great. I think Time and Punishment comes quite close, though.

"You're still not in your own world, Homer! I can get you home, but you have to do exactly as I -- argh!"
"This is indeed a disturbing universe"

And the Peabody and Sherman apperance

"Quiet You!"

Posted by: HedonismBot at April 4, 2008 4:40 PM

Heehee, Jay, my brain often does operate randomly, but in this case the title was a direct quote from the song.

I'm slightly ashamed to say that as much as I abhor most new-fangled words (I'm looking at you, starts-with-"B"-ends-with-"ling"), I do use Google as a verb. Hey, you could do the same with "Yahoo!", although it sounds vaguely naughty..."I was Yahooing stuff all night!"

Posted by: MO at April 4, 2008 5:31 PM

Hee, MO "to Yahoo" sounds like a euphemism for orgasming. "Oh yes...I'm Yahooing!"

Posted by: Julie at April 4, 2008 5:33 PM

Ooh, Julie, it does! Maybe Jay is on to something here....

Teach me how to Yahoo, buddy!

Posted by: MO at April 4, 2008 5:39 PM

Ahhh! Didn't think of the title. Should have, since most headlines here are quotes, and often good ones (The "Lost" Beatles took me a couple til I got there was a pattern). Again, my Simpsons knowledge has great love and great gaps.

Well, I'm a stuffy old man, and usually just say I "searched" for something. At this point "googling" almost means using *any* search engine I suppose, and everyone knows exactly what you mean very quickly. I'm just pissily contrarian. Plus I have to "educate the people" about the wealth of electronic resources they're not using yet, and trying to convince teachers that it's NOT an "internet source" if someone got a journal article in ProQuest. Dammit we only got three books for your whole class, but databases of the reference books out the ass!!

Anyway, yeah, I ought to watch more Simpsons, since it's on all the time anyway (I think the Sea Captain and Willie would have to duke it out to settle which one I liked the best). After I follow my orders to watch "Mad Men" and "Lucy, daughter of the Devil" so my friend has someone to discuss them with, and "Deadwood" since, even though people always talk about it, it still sounds really good and....hell, I'm sure there's much more. Plus there's that whole "my life is not happy and relaxed enough to enjoy this depressing ass movie yet" list. Someone here once said they wished there was a way to queue up and requests books though. *That* one really hurt.

(Your local library and its website can TOTALLY do that and even more for you!!!)

Oh! I forgot to mention, if imdb photo captions are to be believed, Ms. Easterbrook is still lookin mighty fine today. Granted, the Big Ol' Blonde ain't always my bag, but hey, I know quality when I see it.

Now, how about "The Man With Two Brains" or "National Lampoon's Class Reunion" for future installments? Don't know the current audience figures, but they sure livened up *my* 80s.

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 5:50 PM

Okay, the Philly station is currently showing that exact episode of "The Simpsons." Weeeeeeird. Back to the review.

Posted by: Geetch at April 4, 2008 7:04 PM

Then, apropos of absolutely nothing except more weekend video fun

http://youtube.com/watch?v=TvSu4pvQh2w

Harry, The Bear and The Troll


Oh and, while I'm ordering up future essays, the TV version of "Superman II" has got to be a hangover contender (with that version having a crucial difference of course). Either way, keep it up, Mr. Prisco.

Posted by: Jay at April 4, 2008 7:34 PM

Speaking of Steve Guttenberg, I saw that the Weinstein Co. has plans to do a remake of Short Circuit. A re-fucking-make of Short Circuit!!! The Wein-fucking-steins!!!

For fuck sake, does anyone have any original fucking ideas any-fucking-more. Guttenberg was the shit back in his day, but you're really scraping the bottom of the proverbial fucking barrel when you think doing a remake of Short Circuit is a good idea. While they're at it, why don't they go ahead and do remakes of Leprechaun and *batteries not included. That's the ticket alright.

I'm thoroughly convinced that the end of the world is near. So, we just a soon grab ahold, bend over and kiss our sweet asses goodbye. It's gonna happen. Watch what I tell you!

Posted by: RAT at April 4, 2008 7:35 PM

Stop quoting The Simpsons guys. It's making me teary eyed. The show used to be genius. Now it has gone the way of the obvious and the plain unfuny. A Bush joke? My god, the writers have gotten so lazy. They used to reference great classic novels. I can't watch it anymore.

Short Circuit was brilliant. It's the Matrix of its day. Robot wants to be human. Robot gets a crush on girl and watches her bath naked. Robot attempts to figure out Fisher Steven's accent. Robot enslaves all mankind. Natural progression people. Short Circuit is just foretelling the future ... I for one welcome and accept our new electronic overlords ...

Posted by: LittleDead at April 5, 2008 12:14 AM

A few years ago, my buddy and I had an alcohol inspired fantasy casting session in which we convinced ourselves that a grim and gritty western (along the lines of the then-unheard of 3:10 to Yuma) would be the perfect vehicle for the simultaneous stellar returns of Steve Guttenberg and Rick Moranis.

Go on: picture them both with grizzled frontier beards, long blood-spattered coats and cold murder in their eyes...

Posted by: Ed at April 5, 2008 12:40 AM

They used to reference great classic novels. I can't watch it anymore.

LittleDead I still watch new episodes since I'm just too addicted to stop. Even if the high isn't as good, I still need my fix. With Fox showing the early seasons on reruns, it just highlights how much better it used to be. Granted, I think it's gotten better than a few years ago, but those mildly obscure references just don't seem to come about anymore. It's like they gave up on layering the jokes or just don't know enough information to pull it together.

Posted by: HedonismBot at April 5, 2008 11:54 AM

HedonismBot, it just irritates me that they've taken the easy way out (aka. Family Guy). All I can think of when I watch the new episodes is how few smart comedies exist anymore. Mst3k is gone. Simpsons is gone. Everything has become one long fart/burp/guyinafatsuit/sex joke. It's indicative of how truly lazy the education system has become. Writers don't reference novels anymore because there's some jackass producer upstairs going "What? Kafka! No, no, people don't read books anymore, do something about a guy taking a long poop. Yeah, that's fucking hii-larious".

I remember being young and watching Mst3k and Simpsons and they would reference a novel/writer/artist I didn't know anything about. It would push me to look them up and expand my horizon. That just doesn't happen anymore ...

Posted by: LittleDead at April 5, 2008 2:02 PM

I thought NaNa was referring to a another Simpson's episode, then I got ticked off when she/he posted the site. I motherfucking hate spammers. They're fucking everywhere.

Rant aside, I had a man crush on Guttenberg when I saw Cocoon. I didn't understand anything about the movie, I was 9 at the time, but I couldn't stop staring at Guttenberg whenever he was on screen. The movie rocked since most of the characters were teleported up to a space ship. I should re-watch it.

hmmm, was the Naked Gun guy in that movie? I can't remember.

Posted by: carrie at April 6, 2008 10:40 AM

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Posted by: sunny36000 at April 8, 2008 10:36 PM