The year was 1987. The Dow’s Jones Industrial Average closed above 2000 points for the first time in history, Mike Tyson has won the WBA title, the first heart-lung transplant is performed in Baltimore and, according to the UN, the world’s population has crossed the five billion mark. I turned ten in 1987 and I would venture that I was a very mature ten-year-old for I was aware of something far more important, far more significant and far more influential was occurring. It was something that would shape the pimply, awkward and bleached blonde face of the world for years to come.
Many of you will know what I speak of but just as many of the purveyors of this site will have no clue to what I’m referring. Our very own funky-fresh robot Optimus Rhyme, when approached with the idea of writing about this topic, was heard to respond, “What? Who? Is that an app?” How I yearn for the days of yore when our youth would take the time to learn about the pioneers of our illustrious history. What are we to do with this “new” generation with their ipads and internet tubes and books not written on papyrus as is proper. They’re so busy with their picture chatting and lawn trodding and that hippity-hoppity noise that they haven’t taken the time to recognize the blazoned path that has given them so many things which they cannot live without.
Understand that in 1987 the first shots were fired across the bow of shopping malls, radios and televisions in an epic war that would rage for decades. Numerous battles were fought in different venues, with different weapons but the result was always the same: stalemate. Not even a sexy joust between the hallowed covers of Playboy Magazine could determine a winner. Some thought the larger of the two superpowers would be victorious. Others had no doubt that the more svelte of the combatants would reign supreme. What no one ever questioned, though, was that in order to finally conclude this war of attrition the ultimate area would have to be found.
Ladies and gentlemen that stage has been created. In 2011, we shall finally learn who is the ultimate pop pugilist. In the ring of the ridiculous, the SYFY (I feel dirty typing that) network, the two cotton-candyweight contenders will finally settle the score. I don’t Think We’re Alone Now, people, because I’ve wanted this Only in My Dreams. Tiffany vs. Debbie (sorry, Deborah) Gibson! Megapython vs. Gatoroid! Who will survive? Also, gratuitous panty shots.