Thursday, September 29, 2011

"Goodnight Moon?" More Like "Goodnight Career"

Recently I had the displeasure of reading the novel “Goodnight Moon.” It had no emotional core and the underlying messages of capitalist desires left a thoroughly unaffecting taste in my suddenly dry mouth.

Now, I realize people really love this book. Not only do they love it, they go to fan conventions about it, make Halloween costumes, engage in memorization competitions and even write dissertations about it (“The Moon inside of all of us”).

With this overwhelming amount of critical love, I approached “Goodnight Moon” expecting a piece of well-thought out and amazing literature. Something akin to Dave Eggers or James Joyce. What I got was a complete mess of a work. It seems more suited for the consumption of children than any enlightened readers.

Even the titular moon looks depressed to
be involved with a story such as this.
Who is this “moon” character to which the unnamed narrator refers. Is it the celestial body, or is it an allusion to the male behind? Do we get a personification of said moon, or will it remain an outside force? These are all good questions, but the author chose to ignore them. Although the moon remains the titular character, it's only mentioned in passing and mainly in relation to a cow's ability to jump over it.

The story is roughly three pages long. If you take out the rhyme scheme, it becomes even shorter. They could have expanded out and we could have known who the bunny is, who the cat is, and why this quiet old lady whispers “hush.”

Speaking of the kittens, why do the bunny rabbits have them as pets? Don't they realize a cat is one of their natural predators? Sure, the author hints at this when proclaiming them kittens, but when they do mature, little bunny is going to become an all-you-can-eat buffet. Maybe they're planning that for the sequel, which would teach the audience a strong lesson about the importance of food chain survival. I could foresee calling it “Goodnight Eviscerated Bunny Rabbit.”--that's a story I'd pay to read.

The world-renowned “Goodnight nobody” sequence showcases could have been a profoundly interesting sequence. The rabbit says “Goodnight nobody” on top of a completely blank page. Initially it seems like the author is making a statement on the futility of polar bears eating marshmallows (during a blizzard), but closer inspection reveals she probably needed to produce a 30-page book and had no desire to actually create content. Leaving the page blank could appear artistic, but it's definitely just playing right into the hands of capitalistic society.

So it seems suiting that I read this while waiting in line at Target to purchase some white chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. The capitalism of the book motivated my desires to purchase peanut butter encased in fake chocolate. Thankfully the story was mercifully short and could be completed in “Reese's Time,” otherwise I might have parted ways with a dollar and would have been upset to receive such a droll piece of tripe.

This entry in the “Baby's First Books” series truly disappointed me. It seems the author, Margaret Wise Brown, could have set her sights higher. She could have made it a parable on Israeli-Palestinian conflict or encoded the cure for AIDS into her text. Instead, she has left a book for the ages where people will ponder why so many people read it.

If “Goodnight Moon” is indicative of Brown's work, I do not foresee a bright future in the literary world for Ms. Brown.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Celebrating the joy of getting me presents

Happy September 26th!

Oh, and for those who don't realize the momentousness of this day, let me explain. September 26th is officially 90 days before Christmas (88 before Festivus) and we celebrate by planning out every single present you're going to get for me.

While it's nice to have such a splendid holiday in my honor, I really don't ask for much, just get me everything from the 12 Days of Christmas song. And you don't even have to do the stupid ones! Just replace all of those instances with “Nachos” and I'll enjoy my 364 nachos.

As for the rest of you, I have used my intense retail experience to formulate a list of the top toys that hoarders will, as their name implies, hoard. Don't let a “Tickle Me Elmo” happen to you, read this list, learn it and shop it. Your offspring and sexual acquaintances will love you as a result.

Sports Equipment: Imagine being a kid waking up Christmas morning and hobbling downstairs, excited to see what Ol' st. Nick has brought. Needless to say, any kid will be super pumped to receive a brand new BoomerFoot, fresh off their left leg. And parents, the great part about this is it requires very little investment. You probably already have an industrial-grade-reciprocating-sternal-bonesaw left over from various kinky activities. Instead of using it for deviancy, use it to saw off said child's foot and get them started in one of the most innovative and cool sports since Bocce Ball.

"I think I can I think I can I think I can crush this
bottle all over your face, bitch!"
Musician Mascots: One of the big trends of this year is classically loved mascots becoming musicians. This results in Mickey Mouse rocking out to “You Really Got Me,” Elmo going on a Rick Allen-inspired drumming explosion and Thomas the Tank Engine repeatedly hitting Percy the Small Engine with a bottle of cocaine-rimmed Hypnotiq liqueur.

I really like this trend, because it combines previous ones. Obviously kids nowadays have no interest in playing guitars or drums, but several years ago, Rock Band ruled the world, and this trend harkens back to that. Combine it with the trend of liking Mickey Mouse, a relic of the 1960s, and you have a potent combination.

Used Kleenex: Usually this gift gets given as a last minute “I got nothing!” gift. That just reeks of desperation (and snot). However, if you plan out like 95 days in advance, this gift will seem like a truly thoughtful undertaking.

Baby strapped to rolling luggage: While this is only sold at Target stores, its sheer ingenuity will allow it to fulfill its intended message of popularizing child endangerment. As the name implies, this “toy” is a baby doll strapped to rolling luggage. Some might claim this is so a kid could bring it with them on vacation and not have to take up valuable space. While this might be true, it also makes children more pre-disposed to BDSM participation, which I do believe is the intended goal of the toy.

Children are never too young to
learn the joys of reckless
child endangerment
Cargo Pants: who wouldn't want to relive that amazing week in March 1998 when you really had to think of which pocket you put your Chumbawumba 8-track? (Hint, it was one of the cargo pockets)

Breaking Bad action figures: What's the number one television show for children aged six to 13? It's not iCarly, nor Hannah Montana. It's not even “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” It's “Breaking Bad.” The dark dramady about the joys of meth cooking just resonates with this audience, probably because they've encountered many similar experiences whilst cooking in their Play-dough kitchens.

And this is why the “Breaking Bad” action figures will be a huge seller this weekend. The gang all gets their own 3.75” representations. Everyone from Walt to Gus to Walt Jr (with kung fu grip). Jesse even has a special voice box so he can say “Bitch” and the “Meth Lab Action Playset” actually makes blue raspberry flavored meth. Kids will love breaking bad and not having to deal with the Mexican cartel.

This is just a sampling of the things you should be in the process of purchasing. If you don't though, it truly shows you don't love your loved ones. Oh, and have a merry September 26th!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Ample Samples Fulfill Grocery Prayer

Tortilla. Watermelon. Cheescake. Ridiculously good turkey wrap with amazing pickles. Yellow cake. Mint chocolate chip cake. Vitamin. No, this isn't the makings of a kick-ass party, it's what I encountered on the greatest free sample day of my life!

Yes, it is quite the impressive haul, but I have been working for months on how to cultivate the best sample getting run. I have developed a foolproof method to expand one's belly sample-sized-portion-cup by sample-sized-portion cup. Danny Ocean and the guy who actually kidnapped the Lindbergh baby (Amelia Earhart) will be truly impressed with your thievings.

A mere five steps stand between you and gluttony.

First off, let out a little prayer. However, this should not be directed at God, Ganesha or Odin. No, you need to direct this prayer at the lord of all samples. His name is Allen. Tell Allen which grocery store you're going to and the types of samples you'd enjoy. Don't just say you want cake, as this might make a vengeful sample god who might only dole out something inedible like mushrooms wrapped in tofu with a sprinkling of Good & Plenty dust sprinkled on top. Be reasonable with you requests, and Allen will justly reward you.
Allen (artist's conception)

When you actually get into the store, your prayer-altered sampling tables will probably look worthy of the Taj Majal. You'll probably want to rip off all of your clothes and roll around naked, absorbing the samply goodness into every major orifice—you might even strategically place a doughnut or Cheez-It somewhere. To this I say excellent idea, it's like you've already read this entry.

Thirdly, eat the samples.

Next, and this is important, go back through the line. Grab more samples. Try claiming your younger brother is feeling sick and couldn't come out sampling with you. It's amazing how the old Halloween trick that never actually worked back then suddenly works in the realm of sample. It probably helps that you're most likely still naked.

Finally, get even more samples.

One problem with free samples is people tend to think you only deserve one. However, if there's no sample maven hanging out by the table, you are free to go back to the table as many times as you want. If store security tries shutting down your operation, feel free to point out 1. They're a security guard... at a grocery store... who is probably making the biggest bust of his career and 2. The term is free samples. Samples. With an s on the end and a free on the front, you'd be foolish to not take a multitude of sample goodness..

Some might think I'm approaching this all wrong. Everything involving Allen and my finely chiseled gluteal muscles are unnecessary for life-giving sample delight. They claim this because of Costco. Or Sam's Club, really they're the same thing.

I do realize these places free sample meccas, the spot every sampler must go to sometime in their life before they die. But it's not my prime choice of free sample spot. Going there, you know you're going to get samples, there's no risk. A grocery store on the other hand may have food, they may not, you don't know until you get there! … plus who wants to pay for membership? Allen sure as heck wouldn't.

The final bit of advice I can give you is to sample everything, no matter how off it might seem. In the world of sampling, we definitely rate quantity over quality. There's a reason I drink that horrendous “green” drink at my grocery store, and it's not because I love the taste of kelp.

So go out there and get your free samples. Do it for Allen, but do it mainly for the possibility of trying something that could be good, but probably isn't, but is definitely free.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Avast, we be talking like pirates on this day matey!

Yargh matey, we about to have yo ho ho and a bottle of... fun! That's right, anyone who's celebrating Talk Like a Pirate Day today, will certainly have more fun than a fortnight in the brig. Let the rum flow from the galleys, we be pirates today. Yargh.

Now how exactly do you celebrate this day? I suppose it's obvious that you add “ayes” and “avasts” to normal conversations. It's even better if you have your parrot do some of this. But after that, you really come to a dead end—there's nothing else you can do... ay?

But wait! In the spirit o' the day, you be a pirate, you can be true to thee pirate roots and steal things. And not just booty and Keith Richards mannerisms, you can steal entire concepts. And one of the best things to steal is a party. That's right, it's not just Talk Like a Pirate Day, you should also celebrate Party Like a Pirate Day. Bring out the gunwales, the bandanas and canons. Don't worry about peglegs, if we do this correctly, someone will have one by the end of the night.

While many of the Hollywood tropes associated with pirates be hellaciously wrong, they're also a whole lot of fun. Go ahead and strap six pistols to ye chest! Duel at dawn! Open rum bottles with ye hook hand!... please note, if you do have a hook hand, you can (and should) do this every day. Play Liar's Dice, thar game loved by pirates and Chinese perverts alike! If you can' think up anything, take in a viewing of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” quadrilogy for inspiration.

One of the best pirate parties I've ever attended occurred because of a really weird typographical error. It seems the host used some really weird typeface (Times New Roman) and thar r's looked like l's. Keep in mind, this isn't the start of some anti-Asian joke, it's merely a typeface joke. As a result of said typeface joke, thar pirates who were supposed to be at the party were joined by yoga lovers wanting to celebrate the joy of pilates.

Half the people showed up with their sextants, tri-corner hats and love of Jimmy Buffett, while the other half showed up with their yoga mats, embroidered water bottles and love of Jimmy Buffett. This might seem like cats being invited to a dog party, but since the pilates crowd consisted entirely of upper middle class types, the pirates could make jokes about pilatgesing them—a hilarious portmanteau combining pilates and pirates and showing how the pirates anally violated said housewives.

Speaking of pillaging, a common mistake with “Talk like a pirate day parties” is actually setting up a pillaging room. They elaborately lay out the wenches, booty and drunken first mates. While this might work for a moon landing party, it just doesn't for pirates. Face it, it's no longer 1969! You have to let the pillaging occur in a natural and organic fashion.

I realize I might have made light of pillaging, but it's something pirates DID do to pass the time between fatalities related to gangrene. There's a reason the old joke goes “Who was the most feared pirates of them all?... Blackbeard,”—it be because he did all that raping and pillaging.
But with the Disneyfication of pirates, and endless pirate vs. ninja scenarios, in pop culture, pirates are kind of viewed as buffoons. Mere jokes. People don't seem to realize that pirates were mean. If given the opportunity, a pirate would eat the last Fig Newton or refuse to pet your adorable cat. They wouldn't even return your phone call for three whole days. They'd hold out just to the point where you thought the voice mail didn't go through, and then bam, they'd give you a ring. Yeah, pirates sure aren't pussy like Johnny Depp has made them out to be.

Now that you know how to throw an awesome Talk Like a Pirate Day party, go out and celebrate. Take your body shots off a dead man's chest and celebrate a pirate's life for me. Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day, matey.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Do not take KevinNol--ever

Why hello there, I'm a really cool dude. But do you know what makes me even cooler? KevinNol sure does! Without it, I'm uncool, but with it, I'm very cool! KevinNol is cool!

(Cue montage of me doing cool things like demolition derby-ing, making Kool-Aid, magnets, writing pi out to the 7th digit, sitting. Keep in mind, this is all done in a really cool fashion.)

Wow, KevinNol sure is cool!*

*Do not take KevinNol if you plan on becoming lame within the next 12-20 weeks. Do not use KevinNol as bootleg Red Bull. KevinNol does not actually like you. KevinNol is your friend. The world is better with KevinNol. KevinNol is not bipolar, and don't you try and claim it is! Since KevinNol is a sugar pill, it will cure diabetes. KevinNol isn't a placebo, but a world class panacea. KevinNol does not actually work. KevinNol is your friend. KevinNol tastes delicious, something akin to boxed mashed potatoes, but actually good tasting.

Do not consume KevinNol if you are allergic to KevinNol. We cannot tell you what exactly goes into KevinNol, but we will confirm it may or may not have roofies in it. Do not consume KevinNol if you are allergic to roofies.

Oh, hello there. Amongst all that disclaimer, you probably got lost in wonder and amazement at the benefits of KevinNol. And I cannot fault you for that. This product is truly amazing. Sure, I don't know what this thing actually does, and it's probably just a whole lot of cumin mixed with a handful of Thetans in capsulated form (yum!) but man, it certainly lives up to all of its marketing claims! Mainly the fact that it doesn't work! Errmmmm, that is it doesn't work at not working! KevinNol is amazing!*

*Under all the disclaimers for the disclaimers, you probably didn't realize it, but I've entered into the lucrative world of drug making. Wait, let me rephrase that... I've entered the amazing world of KevinNol.

Many out there might think this endeavor just doesn't jive with me. But I do enjoy making money, and it seems like off-brand manufacture of potentially dangerous chemicals in a setting akin to a mid-level meth lab has always appealed to me. But as with any startup, I've encountered my fair share of problems. The biggest one is all I've really done is thinking up a bitching name. Oh, a bitching name and a list of frightening, yet totally plausible side effects. Certainly this is the exact same process Bob Ritalin went through when trying to name his wonder drug.

Sure, I have a very weak chemical knowledge background (my B+ in the easy Freshman-level chemistry notwithstanding) but like any drug manufacturer, I can make up stuff that sounds horrifically awful but include the vague promise of maybe doing something adequately and all will be forgiven. The copays will then rain down from the heavens, and I will be free to roll around in said copays—naked.

It might seem kind of uncool to laugh at all of the lower class people who don't have my Scrooge McDuck level of riches. But, did I mention I'd be doing it while on KevinNol?

So jump on the KevinNol bandwagon, and you will certainly make all your dreams come true*

*Please note, this will only make the dream come true for Mr. Kevin. But if you help support him, that makes you cool in his book.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Trans Fat Still Transforming Society

Anyone who took a look at Google's homepage today already knows the momentous anniversary it celebrates—the 112th anniversary of the invention of trans fat.

When it initially came out, trans fat was loved even more than it is today. It was not just the savior of Charleston, WV, but a movement for the people—one that provided hydrogenated soybean oil at a fraction of previous costs. People would take showers in it to soak in the glory that is partial hydrogenation. It's no surprise that “Trans” was the most popular boys name of 1899 and seventh most popular girl's name.

Since I had already checked out the Google logo, I decided why not learn a little about trans fat (other than its deliciousness). Some searching brought forth this article from 1959 Portland Examiner celebrating the 60th anniversary of the first time someone went into a coma from eating too much trans fat. It goes without saying, but this was a coma of delight. Also that it happened pretty much when trans fat graced us with its presence.

Trans Fat Still Transforming Society
By Otis Scott

Anyone who has ever eaten an Eggo, chugged Crisco or downed an Oreo has something in common—trans fat.

And as it celebrates its 60th anniversary, let us be the first to say, god bless you delicious soybean oil infused with hydrogen, you are truly delicious and allow the world to become a happier, healthier place.

Originally developed by Dr. Wilhelm Normann as a replacement for radiation, he soon found it tasted great atop his tripe ice cream. From there, word of mouth spread and placed the miracle fat in everything from potato chips to fast food burgers to trans fat itself (like a double stuff Oreo). Without hydrogenation, none of this would be possible.

You wouldn't guess it to look at him, but trans fat creator Dr. Wilhelm Normann is actually a slim and trim 89-year-old, not the 103 he looks. When he happened upon hydrogenation and the trans fat it entailed, he knew he was onto something.

“They say a pound of Crisco® a day keeps the doctor away, but I earned my doctorate at Universitat Freiberg,” laughed the very jolly German.

When it initially came on the market, companies marketed trans fat as a panaceatic cure all. Initially sold under the name “Glob o' Fat,” the miracle cure purported to simultaneously battle cancer, the Germans, plague, and those annoying people who consider mushrooms a “food.”
Early advertising campaign hyping up the health benefits of trans fats.

“I kind of resented the German attacks, but the 1910s were a crazy time,” laughed Dr. Normann in a way only a German can. “But don't worry, I'll get my revenge, ha ha.”

As Prohibition rolled its way through America, trans fat and Crisco cemented its spot in popular culture when sellers of trans fat products found out they made excellent mixed drinks. Patrons of the finest backrooms and speakeasies would order a William Howard Taft, a drink featuring Crisco stuck into bathtub gin. Much like the portly president, people had trouble removing the product, but when they did, they met a taste explosion.

And today, you cannot go an hour without using trans fats. That pie crust you had for breakfast? Shortening made it tender. The shelf-stable ball of lard for second dessert? Also solidified with trans fat goodness. There's literally nothing this invention cannot do. The only place it isn't is fruit, but what kind of red blooded American would touch that?

Who knows what the future holds for this most wonderous of food additives? We at the Portland Examiner certainly cannot predict the future, but we look forward to the day when companies proudly proclaim how much trans fat they have in their product, with big bold letters proclaiming “50 grams of trans fat per serving, but feel free to add more if you'd like more miracle-occurring to occur.

It will be a great day. It will be a day filled with trans fats.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Seattle braces for heat wave with melted deodorant

Since it's currently the early September time of the year, that means it's the time when Seattle gets a small heat wave and I get solid hard splotches of white on my pants.

Wait, that didn't sound right.

It's the time when Seattle freaks the hell out, riots bust out and every place that even considers carrying a fan gets looted. Oh, and I get solid hard splotches of white on my pants.

Much better.

I'm sure this isn't limited to Seattle, but it's certainly prevealent here. As soon as the mercury starts ticking upwards, people start freaking out. Suddenly Seattleites realize they don't have fans or sunglasses and the heat is seemingly insufferable. They wait in line outside of Target or Wal-mart with the vain hopes of getting a fan. However, they must realize they live in a city of like-minded folks and there will only be seven fans for the taking by the scrappiest of heat sufferers.

No, this wasn't the site of premature excitement, and a bird
didn't number two on me. And I'm fairly certain a bird didn't
prematurededly excite upon me--this is where the
deodorant melted.
And where's the hard splotch come from? As a relatively recently minted Seattleite myself, I'm not immune to the freak out. I made the foolhardy mistake of thinking it wasn't going to get to hot and left things of note on the inside of my car. Crammed into my car I had the usual suspects, the pets and small children and pets mauling small children. Everyone has those. I keep three sets in my glovebox alone. But strewn amongst that carnage, I made the mistake of leaving a tube of deodorant in my car.

Despite Hulk Hogan movies giving me the perception that deodorant could keep people dry and living on the surface of the sun, it apparently could not stand Seattle “summer.” Before heading out to work, I took the tube off of the passenger seat and opened it up. Instead of meeting a nigh solid-stick-of-odor-fighting awesome, the entire inside glurped out onto my pants, shoes and keys.

The weirdest part about having liquid deodorant melt upon you, aside from writing that previous clause, is that almost immediately after it occurred, it solidifed and bonded to those surfaces. It accomplished this even before I could finish saying “Awwwwwwwww mannnnnnn!”

From this whole experience, I do have a new understanding for my city's reaction to heat. All year, we know it's coming. All year, I should know deodorant is an object, and objects are capable of melting. All year, we know this time of year will require fans or air conditioning. All year, I should know melted deodorant doesn't have the odor fighting ability of its intact brethren.

What I know for certain is this is all a cycle. The temperatures will cool off, allowing all deodorants worldwide to fuse back into their solid form. The mad rush to get fans will be replaced by a mad rush to get heaters. The liquid drop of deodorant will suddenly become the pleasing aroma of an adequately scented individual.

So, Seattle and world at large, continue to enjoy this time of warmth, continue enjoying your melted deodorant, lord knows I will.

Monday, September 5, 2011

The finest Spider Erotica ever written

It's Labor Day weekend. And since it's technically illegal to work on the hallowed Holiday, I'm not going to work. Hell, even saying this probably makes Peter J. Maguire of the American Federation of Labor cry in his shallow grave. I must stop talking!

So here's a brief jump back into the archives for one of my favorite entries. Enjoy!

Tonight is the night. Tonight Christa knew she and Boris would come together as one. They would feel the most human of ecstasy. They would live the teenage dream of pre-marital sex. Tonight is the night.

Christa couldn't believe they had come this far. Boris always seemed so unobtainable. Sure her friends on the rock climbing team called him “Itsy Bitsy,” but she knew they were just jealous. They just didn't understand him like she did. He might be a senior and she a mere sophomore, but her feminine wiles had drawn him into her web.

And Boris. She absolutely loved him. She loved how he was so open about his past. His mother, Charlotte, had engaged in a similar forbidden romance. It even spawned his half-brother, Peter. While Charlotte loved Peter, she lived with that regret for the rest of her life. She never wanted Boris to endure what she had gone through.

But that happened in the past. Boris and Charlotte had drifted apart, and Boris was now his own man, free to be with anyone he wanted. And he wanted to be with Christa.

In Christa's bedroom, Boris performed all the right moves. Christa looked at him as he moved a tuft of raven hair from his face. He worked his hands into her lower back. Pressing, tenderizing, making her feel like a true woman. He moved down and tickled her toes. His movements so deft, he touched all of her toes simultaneously. Each one receiving a playful poke. She stared back, and it was almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head—he knew the moment was now.

He slithered up next to her ear and started giving a tender kiss upon her neck. As the kiss elongated, a pleasureful pain coursed through Christa. This is what all the girl talk had focused on, and now she lived it. She gasped. Might this be her first hickey?

It would be, but it would also be her last. As the pain intensified, suddenly it all made sense. His reluctance to come to this moment. The beautiful sweater he knitted her. His overwhelming fear of water spouts. How he had rooted at the start of “Arachnophobia” and cried at the end. How one of their dates had once been sucking the blood from a still-flapping cicada. Charlotte's Web. The forbidden love. Peter freaking Parker. The eight legs. Boris wasn't the misunderstood genius she had thought. Oh no, he was a spider! A black widow spider at that!

With the mating ritual complete, Boris skittered away from Christa. He mounted her wall where he proceeded to create an intricate web and place his egg sack. That's right, not only was he a spider, he was a female spider... a female lesbian spider!

Bet you didn't see that final twist coming.

I hated putting in this picture as much as you hate seeing it.
And that twist is what will make “Web of Love: An Erotic Investigation into Spider-Human Love” my first million seller. For you see, the spider erotica genre is a virtually untapped market. Just think, before “Twilight,” vampires were just viewed as jerks. Always sucking and tormenting Wesley Snipes—but now the IRS accomplishes that, not some mystical deity.

When “Twilight” hit, suddenly vampires are cool and sparkly and amazing. Sure, I may hate spiders with every fiber of my being, but I figure if Mormons can get over their vampire prejudice to make oodles of money, then so can I.

So publishers, if you are out there, feel free to hop on the “Web of Love” train. I actually already have an unauthorized sequel planned out. I'll release “Spider Shocker: Four in the Pink, Two in the stink” anonymously, so I can be indignant in the press and claim “I am indignant! That is the most disturbing mental image I've ever seen!... please read my latest novel, 'Ten Legs, One Cup.'” Which will further increase my publicity.

Oh, and for anyone who arrived here by googling “Talking Female Lesbian Spider,” you frighten me a great amount, but welcome to the blog! Enjoy!

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Nickelodeon Launches Campaign to Find "Hidden Temple"


Gauges interest with Facebook campaign

NEW YORK, Sept 1, 2011 — “Legends of the Hidden Temple,” the cult favorite game show featuring a giant head and kids running through a labyrinthine maze may have found a “pendant of life” as Nickelodeon moves forward with bringing back the series lovingly described as “American Gladiators meets Young Indiana Jones.”
Olmec, Legends of the Hidden Temple
The head head, Olmec, earned the show
much of its notoriety.

Earlier today, Nickelodeon launched a Facebook campaign to gauge interest in a reboot for the big-giant-head-hosted-series. Fans of the show can register and like the campaign at The campaign looks to garner five million fans before the network will consider letting Olmec rise from his storage-closety doom.

The series, which ran on Nickelodeon from 1993 to 1995 developed a cult following for its frank depiction of Olmec, its big-giant-head of a host as well as idiotic kids who could not figure out how to put together a three-part monkey statue. It won a CableACE award for Best Game Show in 1995.

“We know anyone who ever wished they could be a Blue Barracuda, Green Monkey, Orange Igauna, Purple Parrot, Red Jaguar or Silver Snake missed out on a great opportunity when the show was canceled,” says Kirk Fogg, co-host of the initial run of shows and lead proponent of the reboot, “but with 4,999,999 of their closest friends, they can live out those dreams.”

Fogg said they decided to use Facebook as the crux of the campaign, simply because people identified the face of the program as Olmec, and to put that on Facebook would surely garner the fans necessary to refind this “Hidden Temple.”

Although the series only lasted three seasons, to this day it remains a popular fixture on college campuses and at Halloween parties.

“To bring kids the ability to rediscover the Comet-Embroidered Battle Flag of William the Conquerer or the Milk Bucket of Freydis truly makes me ecstatic,” says Fogg, referencing two of the more renowned episodes from the original run.

Even the potential of bringing the show back has resulted in more trouble than getting out of the troubling “Shrine of the Silver Monkey.” Nickelodeon initially balked at the high salary demands of the famed big giant head and co-host, Olmec, but the show's producers found ways to reason with the network.

“I woke up and there was an Olmec head literally in the bed next to me. It crushed my significant other—that thing weighs like 3,000 pounds” says Marjorie Cohn, president original programming and development Nickelodeon. “Knowing they were capable of that, I had to move forward with a Legends of the Hidden Temple reboot.”

About Nickelodeon
Nickelodeon, now in its 32nd year, is the number-one entertainment brand for kids. It has built a diverse, global business by putting kids first in everything it does. It's most known for never engaging in Facebook ruses, no matter the legends that could be unearthed by it. Nickelodeon's U.S. television network is seen in more than 100 million households and has been the number-one-rated basic cable network for 16 consecutive years. For more information or artwork, visit  Nickelodeon and all related titles, characters and logos are trademarks of Viacom Inc. (NYSE: VIA, VIA.B).