TV GUIDE, December 18-24 1993 Vol. 41 No. 51

"A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life."

- Muhammad Ali

"Rubber baby buggy bumpers!"

- Jack Slater

And I thought 1993 was exhausting the first time around. Frankly I'm sick of it - it wasn't even that cool to begin with. I mean it had its moments but it was no '92 or '94... but I digress. Condensing an entire year into a single summer 30 years after the fact allows one to idealize and minimize and compartmentalize to the point that it all seemed like fun & games & SNICK and then we forget what those raptors did to poor Sam Jackson. Still though, I'm tired, and after more than two dozen(!) posts exploring all the bumps and grinds of '93, I certainly felt immersed in this specific past - as close as we could get to time travel, and as most science fiction has told us, time hopping can drain your energy. And then, whoomp there it went, and as our Summer series comes to a close, so does our 1993.

But wait, there's more! We're not gonna be dragged all the way around the 1993 sun without the reward of Christmas. Not in any full-blown capacity, we're not mindless and/or soulless, but we haven't really covered all of '93 unless we've at least glanced at its Merry end. And so that's what we'll do: I give to you a parade of imagery - a collage if you will - from the Christmas issue of TV Guide from 1993. I'll chime in occasionally as I have very little left to say, so otherwise enjoy this last dance to kill the pain. 

- Paul

As implied, TV Guide published its first issue in April of 1953. And now you find yourself in '93, forty years later as they celebrate an arbitrary anniversary with some lumbering televised event and a multipage "Super TV Trivia Quiz" that I think is pretty solid (the answers to witch I posted immediately following the quiz). 

I typically don't believe in the "shark jumping" theory that you can pinpoint a changeover in a show's quality, but Roseanne sure felt different once Sarah Chalke took over as Becky. The magazine gave her introductory episode a "Cheers" and rightly so, it was handled with admirable irony but what followed was never as clever. 

Halfway through the run of the entire series, they'd already secured their legendary descriptor of "Nothing" which may or may not've gone to their heads in future storylines. But with then-recent masterpieces like "The Puffy Shirt" and "The Lip Reader" just weeks prior, they'd earned their renown for excruciating minutiae.

How do you sum up a year? Determine what the most popular Christmas gifts are of course. This is a pretty shitty representation of such, but this cavalcade of cliché cable TV characters couldn't be mistaken for any other year. 

Always my favorite, the VCR Report. 95% of the new stuff I saw back then were New Release Home Videos, and by December I was able to catch up (through rental) on all the theatrical releases from early '93 that I missed. 

Apart from the regional-specific TV listings, your Local Guide always had space reserved for local ads, and around these here parts we used to have Strawberries Music and Video Store (which was an actual type of store that used to exist 30 years ago where one could walk in and purchase tangible art with their hands.) Typically, though ironically, there were so many movie/CD stores at this time that I had the audacity as well as the privilege to be prejudice against Strawberries for not being "as good as the others." Spoiled brat. 

To reiterate, this is our only chance to explore the Holiday Season of '93, and there are some timely titles: "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bean," The Harry Connick Jr. Christmas Special, A Cool Like That Christmas ft. Boyz II Men, as well as two Animaniacs Holiday Specials. Also The Flintstones made a transparent return (as their live action movie was roughly 5 months away from theaters) for A Flintstone Family Christmas, sparking the ongoing pop culture question, "What exactly are they celebrating?" 

In the end, these journeys into a specific past manage to transcend their superficial nostalgia and even hurtle beyond that point in time and cause me to think of the future. Not the current future as it exists now, but the then-immediate future; the past future, like 1994. When I amplify or celebrate a notch on the timeline, I can't help but think of all that's happened in my life between then and now, but especially all the things that were about to happen; like those first few frames of the Zapruder film, where the world is one way, and then suddenly it's this whole other way. I'm not analogizing the morbid angle, but rather how pivotal any moment in our own lives can be. I think of all that I didn't know then, and then how much I knew shortly thereafter - mostly in terms of Film & Television because that's what we're on about. What happens is less about reminiscing on the past and more about becoming conscious of the present and the future; today will eventually be 30 years ago, and you'll remember it as a day when you didn't know what would happen tomorrow. At least with the benefit of TV Guide we could say with certainty that Encino Man would be on HBO at least 5 times in the coming week. 

Still Cherryfied (after all these years)

"Art has no end but its own perfection."

- Plato

I'm here to talk about The Can. Well, technically The Label because back in '92 we got our soda out of plastic 2 liter bottles in my household. And while the wrinkled cellophane wrapping paled in comparison to the sturdy lustrous aluminum, the purple zigzagged majesty and polka dotted cherry pattern that made up this modern Pop Art masterpiece could not be contained nor compromised by its own canvas. 

Cherry Coke was officially introduced to the public in the Summer of 1985, right alongside New Coke. Clearly, consumers preferred the former, and once New Coke disappeared, "Coca-Cola Cherry" absorbed all the attention and adoration (and sales). The thing about Coke is that for as many packaging changes they've run through, they've never noticeably rebranded; with transparent intention they've upheld their same cursive logo and solid red color scheme for over a century. And while I've found that Diet Coke remains to be its own thing (again, as intended) Cherry Coke provided a clean slate for fresh graphic design ideas to match the current aesthetic of any given time. (Pepsi took advantage of that from Day One.)

The initial Cherry design acted as a spinoff of the Diet design: serif print typeface employing the "Coke" shorthand over the obligatory Cola pinstripes. Even then those vivid candy apple accents over that stark white would stand out from across any pizza parlor. 

In '89 there were some bizarre regional Cherry Coke cans in the U.S. that foreshadowed the potential that this drink provoked. Coca-Cola (and perhaps all "sodas" or "pops" or "tonics" or "soft drinks") is like the elemental bloodstream of not just popular culture, but culture; it's a complex medicine, a low-key forbidden fruit with a growing stigma perpetrated by puritanical influencers, often disregarding the will of moderation, but much more than that, the pursuit of happiness (however brief). Since 1886 the company has rested on the shoulders of slogans like:

Pure as Sunlight (1927)

Sign of Good Taste (1957)

Have a Coke and a Smile (1979)

When Coca-Cola is a Part of Your Life, You Can't Beat the Feeling (1987)

Life Tastes Good (2001)

And if one were able to muster up the bravery to look beyond the They Live rhetoric of "BUY THIS AND IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY" and acknowledge that not only is it harmless, but therapeutic, then maybe there would be a greater sense of peace and unity like the advertising promised. 

But when you add Cherry to this magic spell it becomes less wholesome, less commercial. Cherry is flirty, it's suggestive; you share a Coke with a friend, but a Cherry Coke is more than friends and this sorta approach and aesthetic came out in the promotional stuff as well as on the label. 

Then, in 1992, this perceived mood shifted from Summer Fling to Summer Vacation as Cherry Coke officially changed their branding to what I consider to be a pinnacle of contemporary graphic design, but also to something noticeably more playful and pure (and that's not just because I was 9 years old). What was initially introduced as a mid 80s Vaporwave milestone had gracefully transformed into an early 90s cartoon, and it was only incidental that I happened to be at the right age. 

I'm always excited to call attention to the Pop Art revival of this era, but it's rarely recognized as the paradoxical movement that it truly was. The initial midcentury Pop Art period was largely about repurposing familiar and popular imagery into an ironic framework. By the 1990s the flavor and structure of the art was being utilized by the corporations and advertisers who were the original butt of the joke, thereby creating a whole new level of incidental irony: MTV, Nickelodeon, video games, junk food, anything sold to kids was capturing (in a very successful and attractive way) the spirit and tone of Warhol, Renquist, and Lichtenstein. And beyond the commercials and magazine ads, the quality made its way onto tangible items - namely products, specifically Cherry Coke.

There's nothing more poisonous to a point being made than, "Back in my day, things were better (or worse), easier (or harder); considerably different than they are now, ergo more substantial." I was a child when soda cans looked like this, but this is less of a nostalgia trip and more Art Appreciation. (Though I'm sure in the age of Monet there were those who asserted Manet was better.) But I believe Cherry Coke labels peaked from 1992-1995 and I don't care who knows it. 

The aggressively cartoonish logo in '95 was a harsh adaptation that felt like another product entirely - somewhere between a sour hard candy and a failed Fox primetime animated series - but of course now in hindsight it was just creative and outrageous enough to blend in with the art gallery that adorned every aisle of every store. But for the brief black and purple years, we were all blessed with a beauty that transcended even the fruity carbonated nectar within its magnificent vessel; as eye-catching graphic glamour aimed at consumers, it did its job - I've never liked Cherry Coke as much as I did when it was wrapped in this masterpiece, and it certainly doesn't taste as good in its current drabness. 

I discuss this stuff to entertain and inform, but also to create an awareness that could perhaps culminate into an actual throwback gimmick from the Coca-Cola Company - everyone from movies to McDonald's have been recycling the past to middling effect, so why not tackle this seemingly simple contribution to the trend? That's the generous thing about Pop Art: it's disposable but repetitious and easily reproducible.

- Paul

Frankensinus

WEIRD STUFF :: Goodnight, Mr. Walters

This series has primarily explored stories of coincidence and chance, of intersections and strange things told, and which is which and who only knows. But Saved by the Bell and Bugs Bunny's dick aside, sometimes the Weird Stuff is merely just a feeling, a mood. Something inside ourselves that either can or cannot be explained. These instances can derive from dreams or feelings of déjà vu or whatever mild helping of Extra Sensory Perception with which we've been blessed. And sometimes (maybe most times) they come from some external stimuli to which we react in abstract ways. One stimulus in particular for me came from Nick at Nite. 

Spending this Summer revisiting the reruns of the reruns, I became constantly and aggressively reminded of the closing credits to Taxi. Following the credit roll is the show's production title A JOHN CHARLES WALTERS PRODUCTION over a brief shot of the enigmatic John Charles Walters himself, walking away from the camera with his back to us. We know this figure is the namesake because an off camera female voice exclaims, "Goodnight, Mr. Walters!" to which this character gives an unintelligible grumble of an acknowledgment. And, scene.

   

So I suppose the first big question is, "Who's John Charles Walters?" (distantly followed by the second, less pertinent question, "Who gives a shit?" but we'll get to that). JCW was, indeed, a television production company founded by David Davis, Stan Daniels, Ed. Weinberger, and James L. Brooks (all formerly producers of The Mary Tyler Moore Show) and ran under its parent company, Paramount. Taxi was their only hit series during their existence and the two became synonymous, as though Mr. Walters was like a regular cast member on the show. The truth is "Charles Walters" was the name of a local bar and the producers repurposed it as their title - though not to be confused with movie director Charles Walters (Please Don't Eat the Daisies, The Unsinkable Molly Brown) they added the forename "John." The idea was to have a "venerable Protestant name" that felt more accessible than its parts. (Weinberger plays the on camera Mr. Walters.) 

And there it is: John Charles Walters never existed. ::lightning flash/thunder clap:: I suppose you could digest this paltry Hollywood backstory as some Weird Stuff but that's never where I was going with this. The truly weird thing for me was and continues to be the brief vignette depicting Mr. Walters leaving his office. 

As a child, I was under the impression that he had just arrived home in this shot, walking down the hallway to his apartment and the disembodied interjection "Goodnight, Mr. Walters!" was the voice of a nosey neighbor in the vein of Louis Tully in Ghostbusters (which probably helped warp this scenario in my head). In my mind, the nighttime taxicab ride immediately preceding this scene was a depiction of Mr. Walters's journey home, followed by a brief interruption of the brightly lit corridors of his late 70s apartment building, and then predictably into his dark dwelling. And that's when I would always become filled with a mix of mild anxiety and pure melancholy. 

The closing credits to a lotta shows (particularly All in the Family, Cheers, M*A*S*H, Dragnet, and of course Taxi) projected a desolate, spooky vibe that I was never able to shake, due (in part, I'm sure) to that it's always sad when something ends, especially right before bedtime. But they all carried different music that was separate from their opening theme songs, often played over eerie B-roll that was empty of people. It was in this otherworldly realm through which John Charles Walters would make his way to his lonely home, despite the chipper disposition of the unseen woman who wished him well. And I'd picture him entering his place, no one to greet him, the dim twinkle of neighboring skyscrapers filling the window, just a lonely and sad and scary space that left me feeling uneasy but with a side of coziness; a real monster-under-the-bed mood to help me fall asleep. My greatest sadness came from his apathetic response to the lone friendly voice who was clearly trying to connect - I felt this woman's disappointment in her unrequited salutation, but just witnessing this failed connection as an objective thing was heartbreaking. 

It wasn't until very recently that I deduced that John Charles Walters isn't in an apartment building, he's in an office building, and the woman calling to him isn't a neighbor but a coworker, most likely a secretary. And so while I really should make the necessary adjustments in my mind, it's really not that difficult (or necessary); most of what I said can be salvaged: the time of day, the dynamic between the two players, the solitary lingering notes of Bob James's "Angela," the existential foreboding of the architecture and fluorescent lighting that leads into darkness. For all we know he's gonna go out and get in the back of Marilu Henner's cab and be driven home to his apartment and then the proposed scenario still stands. There's all this framing around it and the scene itself is just under 3 seconds, but in that short time they establish context - a context I got wrong and so I subconsciously created a subtext to support it. And while that may very well be a trait of human nature, it's still the Weird Stuff: not only our ability but our compulsion (and sometimes obligation) to ponder and intellectualize the gaps in the genetic code of existence; that place where dreams and ideas live and all the other things David Lynch could better explain. Revisiting Taxi (or any other nostalgic endeavor) reminds me of a substantial time and place in my life; evoking memories of a physical location and an approximate calendar date. But this company callsign is more intuitive than simply reminiscing about school nights in 1993 - it forces me to revisit a state of mind which is something we keep with us in a dormant state until the appropriate trigger is pulled. They make movies and books about this phenomenon and they're typically labeled as "weird" so I feel certified in my inclusion of this "stuff." 

Goodnight, Mr. Walters, wherever you are. 

- Paul

McDonald's, As Featured In...

In their newest promotional campaign not aimed at children, The House That Ronald Built is harnessing their most superficial grasp of nostalgia to date by paying it forward to a few of the films, TV shows, and songs that indulged in the contract of product placement with ol' McDonald's. Some were casual references, some were seamless plugs, all required clearance. 

This is the foundation for unveiling The 'As Featured In' Meals consisting of what they're calling "new menu items" which is entirely misleading as they're just combos consisting of their old menu items. Example: The "As Featured In Seinfeld" meal will consist of a Big Mac and fries because the Big Mac is mentioned in a season 3 episode of the show. 

If this feels arbitrary or laughably deficient it's because this is all a thinly veiled smokescreen to beef up their halfhearted tie-in to the new season of Disney's Loki. Gone are the days of expertly crafted drinking glasses or (gasp!) candy colored Happy Meal toys because all that jazz is too childish. No, these are just regular grownup meals because grown ass people watch this stuff and Mickey D's is for McAdults, fool. 

This is a powerful gimmick they've unleashed here -- as McDonald's Global Chief Marketing Officer Morgan Flatley put it, "The As Featured In meal is our biggest Famous Order yet..." whatever the hell that means. But on a personal note, it provokes my frustrations with McDonald's as well as Marvel, but also titillates my kink of fast food and media. If you've ever spent 10 seconds on this site you know how fanatical we are about food on the screen and how we like to dine with the characters with the most similar menu possible. And now our biggest corporate adversary has purloined our lifestyle for financial gain so that we may enjoy our 10 pc. McNugget that much more when we peep the brief glance of a McDonald's sign in The Fifth Element. What I'm saying is: they're doing it wrong. 

Their pop culture list is spotty at best - Blankman and Richie Rich are inspired choices but that's about it; most of the others are too abstract or peripheral to "count" as McDonald's Movies in my book (and you know I got a book). The social media response was loud and unanimous (and I've of course mentioned it here): Why not Pulp Fiction? I would've nominated Santa Claus: The Movie, that's certainly on my list (though we're outta season here). They've also excluded Mac and Me. Did you read that? Because I'm gonna write it again. They goddamn excluded Mac and Me from their bullshit promotional farce because they have no sense of: fun, irony, business, and the zeitgeist of any given moment. There are certainly strong references in Fargo and Big Daddy, but instead they've chosen I'm Not Rappaport and Tokyo Drift(?). 

Obviously yes, they've struck a deal with a handful of other conglomerates and can't really move outside of those, but it's fun to sit here and debate; this is, after all, aimed at me in a lotta ways, and if it wasn't for their approach, execution, advertising, and content, they'd really have something here. I say consult The Expert - put me in charge of this song and dance, and you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. 

- Paul

Super Size Breakfast

Super Size Me

6 Hotcakes

Double Quarter Pounder Egg McMuffin

1 Hash Brown

Orange Juice (any size)

ketchup packets

Kevin Franklin Extra Value Mega Meal w. Cheese

Houseguest

Bic Mac

Quarter Pounder w. Cheese

Double Quarter Pounder w. Cheese

McLean Deluxe w. Cheese

Cheeseburger w. Cheese

Large Fry

Large Drink

-- Only $10.87! --

McDonald's At Home

Raw

Green Pepper Onion Egg Paprika Hamburger w. Ketchup on Wonder Bread

Divorced Dad Depression Meal

Bye Bye Love

Garden Salad

Medium Fry

Coffee (any size) 

4 pc. McNugget Happy Meal

Warlord Sampler

Saturday Night Live

Filet-O-Fish

McChicken Sandwich

Double Cheeseburger w. extra pickles

Sausage Patties

McDLT

McRib

Chocolate Shake

Hot Apple Pie

choice of dipping sauce

The Fuckin' Good Hamburger

Hit!

2 Hamburgers

2 Medium Fries

2 Drinks (any size)

-- all presented in retro 1975 packaging --