In anticipation of my upcoming animation column, “Celling Out,” at UGO.com, I present this classic Worst Cartoons Ever post. Also, it’s late and I work in the morning.
If there were a way to replay the noise Super President’s doughy sidekick makes right before Steel Man punches him in the face, over and over on an endless loop, I think I would be the happiest person alive. It’s kind of like “HOO GEET!” or “HOON GLEEK!” I’m sure his voice directions were great:
Director: Ok Jerry, in this scene, Steel Man—who is clearly not a man by any stretch—walks into the “impenetrable base.” He does this by walking through the open door. Then, he punches you in the jaw, not killing you instantly. You need to make a noise that captures this.
Voice Actor: How about, Hoon Geet?
Director: Hmm…”Hoon Geet.” I like it, but maybe give me something in a “Hool Jeet.” Oh, hell, you’re the actor: Hoon Geet it is.
Voice Actor: Then what should I say?
Director: Oh nothing. Then we have this scene where the unstoppable Steel Man—who could snap a man like a Baked Lays with his bare hands and is immune to bullets—well, he’s gonna get scared off by a dinging bell, after going to all the trouble of breaking into the place.
I would like to add, upon watching this again, that though NO SECURITY SYSTEM ON EARTH is a match for this robot, Super President sends his powerless sidekick “Jerry” into the fray and is all, “Ehh, call me if you see the killer robot. And remember, he’s got super powers.” Jerry’s just staring at his walkie talkie and pissing his pants.
By the way, if you think the phrase “You were wrong, Sales,” is just bad grammar on the robot’s part, you probably need to watch this post first.
Step 1: Go to Six Flags with your kid brother in the early nineties. Step 2: Appear in a karaoke version of a New Kids on the Block song. Step 3: Shamed by the video and shunned by peers for admitting you like NKOTB, you lock it away in a cabinet for 20 years and begin a downward spiral of social stability. Step 4: Accidentally donate it to the Salvation Army. Step 5: Smart-ass finds it. Step 6: Internet star.
I love these kids. This video is almost too adorable for this website. I wonder who they are? I wonder why someone would get rid of a tape like this? I wonder if the kid on the drums was so bored because, in the overpriced Six Flags “Make a Music Video” studio, the drums have no drum heads. It’s true. Sorry to ruin the magic. I convinced my parents to let me do one of these videos only because I wanted to play the drums, only to learn there are neither drums to play or guitars with strings. I can’t remember what song we did, either. But I remember how disappointed I was between the sham music video, and the chalk caricature of me in roller blades. I wonder where my Six Flags music video is? Probably in my parent’s basement in a box marked “Donate to Goodwill Center.”
See me live tonight as Acorns to Oaks to benefit the surviving daughter of the Gee Family, who were brutally murdered in their home along with their three other young children, near Springfield. the ABC News story is HERE.
Here’s a little promo for you of Big Dave and I to wet your whistle (whet your whistle? Which is it again?). Anyway, my wife Sarah will be playing Clarinet (even though she’s sick! Still a champion!), my other Sarah is slated to play Accordion (even though SHE’S sick! Still a champion!). The VHS Projector, lighted drum rig, Patrick Swayze pump organ (with special surprise vocalist), and more will be in full effect for this show to help raise money for this little girl.
Please excuse the sound, this was shot with a video camera. But it gives you a small idea of the energy behind this show. Come out…it’ll be fun and do your soul good. Well, maybe. Some of you are heartless bastards, and deserve what’s coming to you.
So my song is River Raid. It was written for Matt Carey, about our time at Small World Daycare and the sinister shit that either went on, or I imagined went on. Lyrics are hard to make out, but I’ll post them if you are curious. If not, whatev. Just watch me bounce around like Daniel Johnston sans medication (week 32).
Dave packs more soul in his twenty-something frame without even having to strain his voice or resort to lights and gimmicks. His voice is amazing, and he’s headed for big things. Also, look at all those freaking candles! Sexy, right? That was his idea. Sell out!
Art from show flyer is by Adrian Riemann’s mind-blowing series of hipster He-Man fashions. Go see the entire gallery!
Remember a more charming, innocent time when you didn’t associate the eleven o’ clock hour with steel drums and Joe Francis’ Wayward Daughters Gone Wild? When alluding to sex, you had to say “party” or “make whoopi” or “have a wet whoopi party down at Flop Town?” Sure, we all do.
Ad #1: “We talked about EVERYTHING.”
When I feel lonely, I feel better knowing there’s a mom-jeans wearing Jersey girl out there wants to “tawlk, or just listen.” She’s on that phone line (you know, that fun phone line? Anyhowel…) We had SO much fun listening to how she says the word “anyhow.” For once, I’m just glad what’s actually on the other end of the phone during these calls is well-represented. Anyheowl, here it is….
Shown: Look into the eyeball.
Ad #2: “Actual Volleyball Coach Seeks Phone Love”
You know, I’m willing to suspend disbelief that a nympho sex kitten is waiting by the phone at all hours for my call, twirling the phone cord betwixt her fingers and painting her nails with little Pac-Men (hey, its my fantasy, OK? Stay out of this). But I draw the line at believing that male Volleyball coaches, female Playgirl models (aren’t Playgirl models dudes?), and Ambien-eating Executive Secretaries (that’s like saying CEO of Fry Cooks) are lining up to call, or even “talk to the Monitor if they’d like to be in the commercial.” What the hell? “You know, I’ve taken this Volleyball coaching thing about as far as it can go. It’s time to use my clout to represent a phone sex line.”
Hi, I’m Chad the Volleyball Coach—Bump, set, spike it, that’s the way I like it. Let’s have phone sex and, failing that, where are the volleyball games in my area?
Ad #3: “Be All That You Can Be Anyway You Want.”
This is probably one of my all time terrible favorites. It just drives me crazy the way the girl says “let me tell you about an exciting party line called 976-2900,” while confusing sleep deprivation for sexiness. I think I’ll try that sometime:
“Hey Chris, what’s your phone number?”
“My phone number? It’s called 555-2900″
“Ok, forget it if you’re going to be an asshole. What’s your email?”
“Let me tell you about my email called ChrisChrisChris@whooptydoo.com”
Also, “You can be yourself, or anyway you want.” Oh, good to hear! Can I also be on the phone, or any place I need?
Click through for more un-sexiness, and the LONGEST PHONE NUMBER EVER...
