Wish I'd written that: on the past and the future

"F

ar-stretching, endless time brings forth all hidden things and buries that which once did shine; the firm resolve falters, the sacred oath is shattered, and let none say, 'It cannot happen here.'"

—Sophocles

Wish I'd written that

"I’ve tended to overlook the actual underlying . . . um . . . precariousness of human life, so thinking we could all just arrange things by sticking to nice, agreeable procedures, being the decent stiff-upper-lip Englishmen that we’ve always been, and let the whole thing manage itself. I think that is a kind of softness, because the more I live, the more I see that humanity is always poised on the brink, and can fall into chaos and disaster at any time.”

—Roger Scruton

The Six Degrees of Alex Trebek via Starcade

Wink Martindale's video vault of vintage television finds its way through an interesting kiddie television show of the early 1980's, Starcade, which ran from 1982-84 when Parker Brothers money ran out even with decent ratings (and a show I remember from my youth).

Jim Caruso and Mavis E. Arthur, among others, pitched a video game-based television show and filmed a pilot in 1981.  The original host of the pilot was Mike Eruzione, the hero of the country following his game-winner against the Soviet hockey team a year earlier in Lake Placid.  The pilot with Mr. Eruzione took 24 players, with eight players playing one of three different games in a tournament.  A second pilot was later ordered a few months later, with someone best known then from High Rollers and later the flop Pitfall hosting this pilot.  It was evident that this pilot was still a game in development.

The same person hosted two more pilots and did the editing himself.  When the show was picked up, the daytime Battlestars was being done and he was doing pilots for a Merv Griffin revival that would take him to the rest of his life, so he could not do this video game show.

The oddities of this show turned out to be even stranger.  Mark Richards hosted the first 23 shows before executives did not like his work, so for the rest of the show's run, it was well-known Treasure Hut and Jackpot! lead Geoff Edwards who hosted the duration of the show until its ending, it was very popular and people auditioned.  And you could even hear Edwards using his signature phrases at times, while we later learned one video game was his favourite and he'd notice that when it was chosen.  Edwards, of course, as we noted in his obituary in 2014, was a well-known hosts who also hosted Chain Reaction and even a few episodes of Let's Make a Deal when Monty Hall was sick.  Edwards was also Mark Goodson's first choice for Family Feud (something I've noticed with Goodson-controlled versions;  Joe Namath was Mr. Goodson's first choice for the 1988-95 version).

But wait . . . there was more twists and turns from the pilot and the first host.

Despite the failure of Mark Richards, the man who producers wanted to host Starcade after seeing his pilot but was unable because of other commitments later hired Richards to be a contestant coordinator of the syndicated show and moderate practice games for contestants in the first season. He released those recently.

The current person doing the practice games for Jeopardy!, as he has for the past decade, is Clue Crew member Jimmy McGuire, s a candidate to take over hosting the show and I believe is the favourite for taking over that show that caused Starcade to not have its first choice as host.

REFERENCES

A Place to Celebrate New Year's - A Drag Show

I

n Ohio, there is a place offering a New Year's Day drag show that has a strange rule about being slower every year since it began.

For this year's Hangover Nationals at Dragway 42 in Ohio, the rule is 20.21 seconds -- more than two-tenths slower than what it was when it started.

The drag competition is held in all weather conditions and with street driven cars.  The object of the race is a bracket event.  A decade ago, the race was run with a 20.11 second index.  As is a sportsman event, the Christmas Tree counts down bulb every half second (unlike a Pro tree, which lights all three in four-tenths of a second) before going green.  People actually count seconds to ensure they are going no faster than the index.  If you're faster than the index, you are disqualified unless the opponent rings up the red light or crosses a boundary line.  If both drivers are faster than the index, the slower car (closer to the index time) wins because it is closer to the index.

Happy New Year everyone.

Happy New Year!

 

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

I don't think anyone's really going to miss the end of 2020, do you? In retrospect, the omens were there for anyone to see, with so many people talking about it being the start of a "New Roaring 20s,"* and we all know how that turned out: the aftermath of the Great War introduced a spiritual nihilism, prohibition, the first sexual revolution, massive labor unrest, the rise of Marxism, the Great Depression, and finally—a decade later—a second world war that included the Holocaust and culminated in the introduction of nuclear weapons and the start of the Cold War. 

*Not to be confused with the TV series of the same name. We could have used Dorothy Provine this year.

And now here we are, one year later, and the first year of the new Roaring 20s has given us the worst twelve months since, what? 2001? 1968? 1941? It doesn't matter, I guess, except in degrees. It's like asking whether you'd rather have your skull smashed or your heart torn out. No matter which one you choose, it's gonna hurt. I know there are people out there who think 2021 will be a better year, and you can't blame them for that hope. Hey, I hope it's better, too. 

In a way, New Year's provides us with a choice, a fork in the road. One path continues the status quo, the other leads to something new, different, uncertain. Sure, this may be symbolic more than anything else; after all, you don't need to wait for a new year to start to make decisions about your future. Seeing that date 1/1 does make things so much easier, though.

The Monsters

I suppose this last essay of 2020 serves as something of a "best of" for the blog; over the past year, I've written several times about the foreboding nature of 2020, of those prescient movies and television shows that seem to reflect in their black-and-white images the nightmarish visions of today; paranoia, people ratting on their neighbors, the dehumanizing isolation into which so many have been fooled or forced. From 1984 to "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" we see it all unfolding before us. The scientists in the Outer Limits episode "The Architects of Fear" assumed they had the answer, if only the right question is asked, but found out that they knew nothing at all. It is, indeed, Apocalypse Theater, and every time you see this rerun on TV you wonder how it can be happining, whether or not this Great Reset is in fact a Great Betrayal, and you want to cry out, in David Shoemaker's words, You told us this was fake. You lied!   

Tomorrow at midnight, another year joins the pantheon of history, and there are those out there who think that we're headed for some kind of epiphany in which this brave new world will take care of everything. To say that I'm apprehensive about the future is an understatement; 2020 looks to me like it was just the prelude to a complete meltdown: soft totalitarianism, social credit systems, elections that don't count, unending constraints on basic social interaction, globalists who want to control what we can and can't think and say and believe, wars and rumors of war—from biological to civil—and you can't even face them with a smile, because nobody'll see it behind your mask. 

It only takes Two

But then, there are those two paths I talked about, and invariably the stories from Apocalypse Theater offer us that moment of choice, when disaster can be averted, when our leaders pull their fingers away from the button at the last moment. Perhaps, a la Jack Benny in the TV version of The Horn Blows at Midnight, we'll have a little angelic intervention on our behalf. And, of course, we haven't even begun to discuss that other popular genre, the post-apocalyptic story. In the Twilight Zone episode "Two," it is suggested that humans (in the form of Charles Bronson and Elizabeth Montgomery) can, after all, come together to create a hopeful future: true, that's only after the war has been fought, but at least there's a future, and that's something to hang on to. I always like to think that, in a twist on the old saying, where there's hope, there's life.

          There would have been a time for such a word.
          — Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
          Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
          To the last syllable of recorded time;
          And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

          The way to dusty death.

Tomorrow night we say "Good Riddance!" to 2020 and look forward to 2021, but we'd better be careful what we wish for.

Merry Christmas!

This is not an add for Coke, which produced the product, but Vendo, which made the machine that kept the product cold. What a wonderful, vivid ad, and a great way to wish a Merry Christmas to you all!

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 24

Plymouth rocks! Seriously, there's just something very, very inviting about this ad. Perhaps it's the vividness of the colors, the red rug in the entryway, the wreath hanging on the front door and the red decorations hanging down from the walls. Maybe it's the arms laden with gifts on what probably is Christmas Eve. The holly inserted in various parts of the frame. Whatever, it's an evocative tableau—especially this year, when we're not supposed to travel or get together with family and friends or do any of the other things that reinforce our humanity and bring joy to others. Maybe next year—if they'll let us.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 23

The perfect stocking stuffer.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 22

It really doesn't get any better than this, does it?

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 21

Anthropomorphized bears apart, I enjoy ads like this because they remind me of when we were allowed to socialize at Christmastime. Or any time of the year, for that matter.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 20

Ah, those were the days, back when we were allowed to have parties and get together with other households.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 19

Lamps on your Christmas tree? That's what they were called back then. Whatever they were called, I'll bet they looked great.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 18

That's the way it was in our household, anyway. Whitman's or Fanny Farmer. Sweet times.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 17

I'm surprised we didn't have one of these when I was growing up! Looks like a friendly old soul, doens't he?

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 16

Smile when you say that, pardner.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 15

Who'd turn away Santa when he comes bearing these kinds of gifts? And only a penny! Curtiss had some wonderful brands back in the day; Baby Ruth and Butterfinger are now manufactured by Ferrero.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 14

Wonder if those Schwinns have Goodyear tires?

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 13

Lots of good things—like tires.

The 24 Days of Ad-vent, 2020: Day 12

I think a lot of people will be looking for the real thing this year.