Little Indy

So, amongst Mr. Tikistitch's current obsessions is the boxed set of DVDs for the LFL series, The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles. Sadly, we completely missed this show the first time around, in the early 90s. We've spent the last few evenings watching the first episodes, and have been thoroughly impressed by the fine production values--each episode was supposed to have originally cost over a mill, and you can see the money up on the screen.

As far as the storylines, since this show was aimed at kids, each episode seeks to teach An Important Lesson. So far, this has consisted of young Indy running into an improbable variety of turn of the century celebrities, ranging from Teddy Rooselvelt to Sigmund Freud, all of whom try to sum up their own historical importance for the benefit of our young hero (and the audience) within the time alotted (less commercial breaks).

These admirable aims have caused, from our perspective at least, some inconsistency in the accessibility of the storylines. For examply, when Indy's family travels to Paris, the young scamp - along with his new buddy, a young, curly-haired Norman Rockwell - is whisked away for a night out with Picasso and Braque. There's Cubism, nude wimmin, the Can-Can, and it all climaxes in a glorious brawl at a Paris nightclub. Best. Night. Ever. OTOH, in the snorific episode we viewed last night, whilst Prof. Henry Jones Senior is off giving a lecture, Indy's mom is romanced by sleazy opera guy Puccini. We learn that Puccini wrote Madame Butterfly, and to stay away from Italian men, especially those with moustaches, but not much else. Uncharacteristically for an entertainment associated with Raiders of the Lost Ark, tiki had to go to bed before she dozed off on the couch.

Mr. Tiki, and ourselves, started to ponder, as one will, as to what could be done to improve the now more than 10 year old show.

"Young Indy ought to fight Nazis and stuff!" posited Mr. Tiki.

Er, in 1910? we averred.

"He could meet Young Hitler! He could be a little kid, with a little moustache!!"

Indy Jones meets Baby Hitler?

"Indy could kick his ass! It would be cool!!"

Mr. Tiki should have his own network we think.

Stitch Live

Looks like the new Stitch "ride" at Disneyland Paris has already had a name change. It's now "Stitch Live" instead of "Stitch Encounter," evidently the result of an online poll. Still slated to open in early 2008.

We hates you, Japan

OK, we *so* do not need one of these.

KISS Army

So, we've been thinking about the song, "Beth." If you're as ancient as tiki, you may have heard it on FM radio in the 70s. It was KISS's ballad, and thus, as with all contemporary metal groups, the band's song they tended to play as it actually had some evidence of a melody.

We hadn't really thought about the song since the 70s which, if you know the song, is probably appropriate. But it came to mind as we recently purchase, as you might too, the CD About a Girl, from FDR. It's a breast cancer benefit, so there's a bit of do-goodiness about it, and FDR is a scrappy little music label, for which we are suckers. The hook of the CD is it consists of covers of songs for which the titles are girls names, and there's a few nice ones, like Sweet Jane, and a few fun somewhat obscure ones, like a cover of the Monkees' Mary, Mary.

Anyways, there's also a cover of Beth, and, unlike when it was played 30 years ago on the radio and we paid it little heed, we were listening on headphones, and actually understood the lyrics for perhaps the first time. It's basically a lament by a musician whose jealous girlfriend is whining for him to come home from practice.

It includes the lyrics, "Me and the boys are playing, and we just can't find the sound." Uh, ok, but remember, the original band was KISS. Under exactly what circumstances can a band like KISS be in the studio and not finding "the sound?" Did they need to run out to the drug store for more mascara? Did Gene Simmons' tongue get stuck? Did KISS even have a "sound?" (We mean, other than smoke bombs going off?) Like, huh?

OMG Death Star Punkin!

Via fullcircleagain.

Leaf guys

Leaf guys were here.



Um, maybe next time we won't wait quite so long.



Quoth lead Leaf Guy: "Under your leaf bags ... there were more leaf bags!"

More stuffs we don't need

Ooo, octi-necklace!

BTW, don't visit Notcot.

(Yeah, we warned you.)

Karma karma karma

So, our iPod is dying. Because, we have one of those ancient iPods with the sucktastic batteries that there was a class action lawsuit about.

We whined to Mr. Tikistitch that we can no longer listen to The Boss on the busride to work. Because, yanno, they won't play The Boss on the radio any more. Because radio these days is even more sucktastic than iPod batteries.

As we always do, we whined to our spouse.

"You need an iPod Touch."

No, we insisted, we most certainly do not need an iPod Touch.

"You need an iPod Touch," our spouse insisted.

No, we don't.

"Have you seen an iPod Touch?"

Er, actually, no.

"This is an iPod Touch."

We were like, ZOMG INTARNETS!

We need an iPod Touch dudes.