UPDATE: The links got yanked, but check the comments for help.
From the moment I experienced my very first brilliantly stupendous episode of the Ren & Stimpy show my brain has ruminated on how to get my hands on that wonderful vintage "incidental music" that sets the tone for their zany, wacky, madcap antics. Eventually the internet taught me that the music of Ren & Stimpy comes from all over the place. Some was written for the show, some are well known classicalpieces, and there are quite a few works by Raymond Scott. For me, the most elusive stuff has always been the authentic "production music" from the 1950s.
A couple months ago I discovered that some dear soul (or souls) had assembled a massive collection of these aural delights, and made them available on a torrent site. (EDIT: A demonoid user named admiraltennek has stepped forward as the original ripper/uploader.) It was as though the Gilded Yak had answered all of my letters at once! And you guessed it, I'm making this marvelous collection of classics available to you, the valued internet user.
Put simply, these melodies have enriched my life. Play them on your drive to work and you're the star of an instructional traffic safety film, turn it on during dinner and mealtime becomes 80% happier (but be careful.. play the wrong track and you could wind up with a touch of Space Madness). Best of all you can listen and imagine that you live in the world of Ren and Stimpy where the walrus-napping horse is your next door neighbor, where the toy stores are stocked with Log from Blammo, and a visit from Powdered Toast Man is just a complaint away!
Since this stuff is already available 'out there' I decided to add some extra value before I handed it off to you folks, and therefore I did the following.. -Designed an "album cover" for the collection (as seen above) (Bill Wray illustration swiped from his web site.) -Hunted down and tagged the name of every artist for every stinkin' track -Added a couple tracks that I had that weren't included in the bundle -Created a track listing based on musical styles. It kicks off with some general '50s domestic lollygagging tunes and then it gets more downtown hustle and bustle-ish. After that it goes spooky, glamorous, romantic, and finally dramatic.
It is my pleasure to present you with the unofficial Ren & Stimpy Production Music collection. Be happy happy and enjoy joy joy it!
109 Total tracks (MP3, 192 kbps)
UPDATE: the You Eediot! album is available HERE. UPDATE: Volume 2 is available HERE.
I just wanted to point out that in my opinion Mr. Snuffleupagus looked amazing in his first ever appearance...
Doesn't he look more like some 1960s-style monster? When you think about it, that's what he is. He seems like he could be a distant relative of a Weird-Oh, or a Dr. Seuss character or even an Ed Roth creation. Here's how most of us remember him...
Note the close set, wanna-be soulful eyes with working lids and those floaty-feather lashes that just get in the way. Now check this out...
Woah! Great pointy head. Great wild, yellow egg eyes with eyelash explosions. He's leaner and seems scrappy and a bit bewildered. I'd like to be friends with this Snuffy. I'd explain the world to him and encourage him throughout his life.
He can look two directions at once.
Sheesh, what happened? Celebrity Look-alike: Liza Minnelli
His stare is so intense I can feel him looking into my soul.
Anyway, I brought it up because I just got a great DVD set of Sesame Street episodes from 1969 to '74. If they would have kept that Snuffleupagus design he would have been one of my favorite characters growing up, right up there with Harvey Kneeslapper, Bert, The Amazing Mumford, those yip-yip Martians, Grover, and Count Von Count.
I put on the only suit that I own (It belonged to my father who wore it when he was younger than I am now.) popped a few breath mints, and it was time. Jason and I got off the elevator and followed some dressed-up folks to the reception table. Once they took our names we were each issued a little blue velvet sack that contained an extremely cool commemorative coin...
Feeling gratified, we wandered into the first of three chambers. A long table displayed Adams relics that were being offered in a silent auction to benefit various animal welfare organizations (proceeds from the overall event went to the same cause).
Magic and prank sets, vintage signage, and even an original vial of Cachoo Sneezing Powder (the very first product Adams offered) made up the assortment of goodies.
The next room was more lounge-like in nature, and many of the two hundred guests were assembling there. Lots of mingling, milling about, and mixing took place as folks sampled appetizers and spirits from the wet bar. The attendees had come from all over the US and had many different associations with the company. They ranged from friends and family to retailers, magicians and journalists along with many Adams enthusiasts and collectors.
An appropriately mysterious player piano provided the soundtrack to the early evening. Chris Adams (co-owner and grandson of S.S.) also operates a local piano shop, and he supplied this beauty...
The table set-ups were exactly what I wanted to see. A black magician's hat served as the centerpiece and each setting included a Snake Mint Can and some pieces of souvenir Asbury Park Taffy. Much discussion centered around the taffy. Tables argued whether or not it was a prank since Adams used to sell taffy treated with various nastiness. Turns out it was the real thing. Most guests (myself included) weren't about to risk a bite, so it became sort of a "reverse prank" if you will.
The ballroom was gorgeous and perfectly fitting to the occasion. The Art Deco decor and the recorded music from the 1920s and 30s kept reminding me of the party scenes in The Shining. (I was pleased to hear several ghost stories from an ex hotel employee who sat at my table.) The environment effectively transported us all back to the glory days of the business. (Even during the Great Depression the United States' craving for cheap amusements meant success for Adams. The profits from the Joy Buzzer alone enabled the company to endure the times without letting go a single employee or cutting a single wage.)
The program began with an introduction from author and magician William Rauscher who was followed by Adams Co-Owners Chris Adams and David Haversat who each gave their own presentations. Then came the cavalcade of magicians consisting of Tom Ewing, Al & Rebeccca Lloyd, Michael Miller, and my personal favorites Richard and Joanne Gustafson who performed their 'Magic by Candlelight' routine which they've been perfecting since they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. Most of the magicians on stage and in the audience shared one thing in common.. their very first magic trick was an Adams. Such is also the case with my arch enemy, David Copperfield (who wrote a letter of congratulations that was read aloud at one point.)
It was, well, a magical evening. After the entertainment ended I had a great time chatting about the Life of the Party book and struggling to think of witty things to write in people's copies. I especially relished my chance to meet the extended Adams family. S.S. Adams' daughter Gertrude 'Tud' Adams gave me the sweetest hug and some wonderful compliments to go with it. To hear her say that the book has flooded her with a wealth of lost memories was heartening to say the least.
As the night unravelled I pondered how amazing it is that this unusual and innovative little company has altered the lives of so many and so drastically impacted the culture we live in. (Not to mention generating a century's worth of hilarious and unforgettable moments.) Maybe it's because Adams has tapped into the timeless art of deception. Every customer has a choice.. you can trick to humiliate or trick to amaze. Some of us take satisfaction in simply knowing the principles behind all the trickery. Maybe it helps us feel more equipped for life in a world full of shysters.
The next morning provided us with a chance to tour the factory building. In 2005 I spent a week within it's walls as I worked on Life of the Party, but I still found myself giddy as we pulled into the parking lot once again. It's truly a wonderful place.. ancient, mysterious, historic, haunted, and full of heavy machinery made of that beautiful pale-green metal. Here's a look...
The front door
A work station where magic sets are assembled (those yellow things to the right are foam rabbits)
This wire actually feeds the machine that makes the internal spring for the Snake Nut Can
A freshly made spring emerges from the mechanism. Add a patterned sheath and you've got a terrifying snake.
William Rauscher demonstrates the Egg Vase trick. (I finally got to meet him on that tour. He wrote a history book about Adams several years ago, and he just oozes with class.)
The novelty-geek in me savored the moment pictured above. Chris (left) and David (right) are talking shop with Graham Putnam, owner of rival gimmick makers Fun Incorporated. You're looking at the industry giants taking part in a rare meeting of the minds! The number of trade secrets that were stolen that morning is anyone's guess.
By Sunday afternoon the event that we'd been discussing for more than a year.. was over. But we still had one more stop on the itinerary. A favorite ebay seller of mine happens to operate out of Salem, Massachusetts which is about four hours from the Adams factory. A couple years ago I had a ball visiting his warehouse where I spent hours digging through boxes of vintage unsold store stock. I reminisced about it with David (of S.S. Adams) during numerous phone calls since he too is insane for this junk. We saw this as possibly our only opportunity to visit this place together. I was glad that we had planned it that way because there's nothing like the promise of generic mid-century plastic to keep the bittersweet thoughts of the Adams banquet at bay.
Before I ever visited Salem I wondered if the whole "witch thing" was something I should avoid bringing up around the locals. It doesn't take long to figure out that it's a topic the town has come to accept...
We located the warehouse and spent the next four hours coughing on vintage dust, saying to each other "ever seen one of these?" and loving every minute. Since this was a private appointment (there's no public storefront) we had to commit to a large (to me) minimum purchase, so this made us feel like a couple of high-rolling VIPs of the vintage plastic scene (if there is such a thing.) Here's a glimpse of a tiny fraction of his stash...
I don't think this seller would mind me telling you that his ebay moniker is atomic-candy. He makes his living peddling this stuff online and he admitted that he's not too thrilled about folks invading his headquarters and rummaging around (I know we left quite a mess) so I'm thankful that he's so generously allowed me to crash his place. Here's a shot of my plunder...
(click to enlarge)
Then we drove back. Then I flew home. Well. That's what happened.
What would it be like if the premier manufacturer of pranks and magic tricks threw a swanky bash for their one hundredth birthday? Who would attend? Where would such an event be held? What would it look like? Would everyone be pulling quarters out of ears and joy buzzing one another's handshakes? I couldn't even imagine. That is, until the weekend of September 30, 2006 when I experienced this once in a lifetime event. But naturally, getting there was half the fun...
Two days before the shindig my plane landed in Akron Ohio which is nearly ten hours from the S.S. Adams headquarters in Neptune, New Jersey. Nope, not an an emergency landing. I was there because I figured that the trip would be extra-super-special if I traveled with my longtime friend and Ohio resident Jason. I figured correctly. That night we prepared for the journey ahead by participating in the eating of pizza, as well as other hearty social rituals. The next morning I knew I had achieved ample sleep when I overheard Jason's daughters asking "Why did uncle Kirk go night-night for so long?"
Some friends in Hershey were willing to lodge us that evening, and therefore too many roadside diversions might cause us to arrive impolitely late. So before departing we carefully considered all options with the aid of the Roadside America website (which has proven to be an indispensable tool for me throughout the last decade). We hit the road and prattled away a couple hundred miles until we noticed a huge, newish-looking billboard advertising our tourist trap of choice... Gravity Hill in New Paris, PA! Oddly enough, the sign (which even featured some cool old clip art) was posted like 50 miles before the exit. At that point I fully expected a Stuckey's style barrage of ads to continually entice and finally wrangle us onto the turn off. I was so wrong. An hour later and fifteen miles beyond the road we had forgotten to look for, we realized we had overshot the place thanks in part to a lack of any additional billboards. Now, it's possible that our ongoing conversation prevented us from seeing them, but I suspect the sight of one would have snapped us out of even the most sordid tale.
As it often happens on road trips the detour we made to correct our error held some of the most enjoyable scenery of the entire drive. There's nothing quite like Pennsylvania backroads at the dawn of Autumn. We got back on track thanks to a local old-timer with an accent we couldn't place. (Could it be that he was a stray Gravity Hill ghost?) Because even if it's not implied as it is with similar attractions (such as Spook Hill), it's well understood that ghosts are responsible for the Gravity Hill phenomenon. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Gravity Hill is one of a slew of so-called "gravitational anomalies" in the world that are usually stretches of road where cars appear to roll uphill unaided. I vividly remember being amazed (and pretty scared) by footage of a gravity hill that was featured on the 1980s television show Real People. So finding this place was yet another in a series of adulthood actions that are entirely motivated by a few minutes of childhood. Suddenly, there it was...
The photo above is extra cool because in reality the sign has white letters. How great that my camera's flash turned them the color of a neon monster's blood. Upon seeing the sign my first impulse was to look for a souvenir shop where I could dump some money. I imagined dusty shelves of vintage overstock, maybe even a couple items with some spooky graphics. No such luck. Distant farm houses were the only visible structures. We did spot some less-than-official-looking markings...
So they boldly proclaim the spectacle to all who travel the interstate, but once you're there they decide to communicate in code? No matter, maybe they were following tradition or something. There were other informative messages...
But with or without the instructions we knew what to do, and moments later our car was inching forward, fueled by the power of invisible dead people. And now you may watch the actual "exclusive" footage of our turn at the hill. (I removed the audio so that you can't hear the stupid stuff we were saying)..
(If the video isn't showing up for you then go here.)
I was kind of surprised at how fast the car moved. We shut the ignition off for extra effect. We also discovered that you can brake to a full stop and as soon as you release the pedal you quickly start up again. There's a more professional video here. The fuddy duddys in that one chalk it up to optical illusion. Well, we figured the same thing, but we agreed that it was pretty impressive. Here's a shot looking "down" the hill...
and the next one is looking "up."
The real mystery surrounding Gravity Hill is who funded the fancy billboard (while the actual site is totally downplayed, not to mention tricky to find) and why did they place it so far away with no further directions? Well, even if it is just an out-of-the-way trick of the eyes I'd recommend it to anyone who's passing through the area. And so with plenty more illusions in store, we got back on the road.
About an hour away from our friend's house, Jason heard a little voice in his brain that clearly wasn't one of the Gravity Hill specters. It was suggesting that something wasn't right with one particular sentence in an email he'd received that morning.. an email from the very friends we were fast approaching. The salutation read "See you next month." A phone call confirmed that not only were they expecting us in thirty-one more days, but our would-be beds had been claimed that night by a different set of travelers. Well, Jason and I fancy ourselves to be flexible journeymen, so we chuckled it off and sped towards Jersey. Bada Bing! A few hours later we arrived at the home of the legendary S.S. Adams factory of fun.
We were pretty proud to be in town a half a day ahead of schedule even if it was the middle of the night. Now to find a room. Searching for a motel after midnight is a situation I'm all too familiar with thanks to my "where the wind takes you" approach to road trips. Yet unless I'm living it, I completely forget that it's always a speedy decent into pure misery. Our road weary bodies were already shutting down as we took turns waking various motel office attendants (we learned that under normal circumstances both of us rely on our wives to "do the asking" in these situations, and we're both big babies about it). Despite our hurting, our consumerist savvy was flowing strong and our standards remained high. Deliberation was laborious and emotions were raw, but we both persevered for the sake of the perfect room. (I kept insisting it was always just a little further down the road.)
We felt a sense of affirmation as we finally pulled into a little Route 35 oasis called the Tower Motel. The parking lot was freshly paved, the trim was a newly painted blue, and the sign was 1950s "retro" to boot. In my experience a lot of these mom and pop "motor courts" are owned by folks who really celebrate their heritage. Establishments like the Indian Trail Motel in the Wisconsin Dells and the Blue Swallow in Tucumcari, New Mexico have provided me with some of my most enjoyable overnight stays ever.
Just take a look at these photos I snapped the next morning...
Jason secured our room at the Tower (it was his turn to do the talking), and we decided that we needed pancakes. We returned from the IHOP an hour later ready for some hard sleep. As I entered our room my first thought was "Ah, I suppose we should have remembered to specify a non-smoking room. Oh, well." I walked towards the bathroom and realized that we should have also requested a non stinking-of-urine-and-body-odor quarters. Before we had time to discuss the stench we both fixated on a small detail. An ordinary lady's hair barrette resting on the bed spread...
I wasn't sure why, but I was deeply unnerved by the sight.
The room was a thrift store menagerie of furniture, and the wood paneled walls made perfect sense. The bed seemed less "made" and more "straightened."
We wondered aloud if we should walk. It was nearing three, and we both knew what starting over would entail (talking to more office attendants most definitely.) So we shut ourselves into our sixty-nine dollar room for the night.
I threw the barrette on the floor and sat on the bed. Certainly a little TV would provide some much needed numbness. Jason pushed the power button and the show that faded into view was about a homely looking couple in the 1980s who must have been on their honeymoon judging by the explicit hardcore action. I actually glanced around our room again thinking for a moment that it might have been filmed on the premises. We noticed an unusual system of wiring behind the television that led us to deduce that the programming was fed directly from a VCR in the front office. Talk about convenience.. no complicated menus or embarrassing movie charges on the bill. That's Tower service!
Now that we were caught up on world events it was time for some shut-eye. So I wrapped some of my dirty clothes around the motel pillow, put on an extra sweater (the knob on the heater was gone) and laid stiffly atop the bedding. I awoke the next morning in this same position, only I was much stinkier.
The dawn was joyous for we knew our Tower visit was almost at an end. The sunlight revealed previously unseen filth all around us. By now I wanted to know exactly how nasty this place was. I started lifting cushions and moving furniture with my camera in hand. I figured any findings would only enhance my story. Bingo! Lodged in the window was a mostly-full packet of rolling paper...
Then I moved the defiled recliner and found something better than I had ever dared to hope for...
If you don't recognize it then that just means that you don't smoke crack.
My final discovery didn't actually come until the tail end of my trip as I waited in the airport. I was reviewing the two-hundred-plus digital photos I had taken over the four day period and smiled when I reached the the Tower series. There was a nook over the room's mini fridge where I couldn't fit my head, so I held out my camera and took a shot of the floor behind the appliance. Sitting there in the airport I burst into laughter when I examined the following photo...
Enough said.
We laughed a lot as we packed the car. "Give me that crack pipe." Jason said (possibly for the fist time ever). He marched into the front office and all I could hear was the statement "Not clean!" repeated loudly several times. He quickly emerged and I asked him what happened. The clerk had pulled the old "no speak English" routine. I suppose his deceit was befitting our grand tour of deception.
In my mind the Tower Motel at 1108, State Route 35 in Ocean, NJ 07712 (Phone: 732-531-1007) will forever embody man's fleshly pursuits.. his willingness to sacrifice mind, body, and spirit for temporal pleasures. My friend Jason, a missionary's son, summed it up perfectly when he said to me... "I've been to 38 different countries, many in the third world.. and that's the worst room I've ever stayed in."
We drove fifteen minutes up the road where we checked into another world. It was the historic oceanside Berkeley Carteret hotel in Asbury Park. (Although we could have saved 30 bucks if we had opted for another night at the Tower)
The Berkeley was the site of the big bash which was slated to start at seven that evening. This gave us nine sweet hours to recuperate. We napped on clean sheets to the sound of the ocean and then it was time for some sightseeing...
As you may recall, in August I posted a catalog listing (see photo) that advertised original paintings by Pablo the Chimp. This prompted Flashfink to note in the comments... "Did you know that Cheeta, the chimp from the old Tarzan films is still alive and is also a painter? He lives at a primate sanctuary now and his art sales help to keep the place running. You can find out more by going [here]"
Jason, proprietor of the astounding Scar Stuff blog, read this and seized the opportunity to own the work of a modern master. He promptly chose a color pallet (Jason wrote "..you can pick your own color schemes I went with both a warmer (Red, Yellow, Brown) & cooler (blue, black) palette...") and he placed his order. To his delight, the following art arrived soon after...
Note Cheeta's thumbprint signature in the bottom corner.
Upon receiving them Jason reported.. "I got my two Cheetas today & honestly they are EVEN COOLER than I'd hoped; really well balanced & just loaded w/ energy! Before setting eyes on them my initial plan was to put one up in my house & then one up in my office at work (where I'd been talking the purchase up quite a bit), but once my wife & I saw them together we really didn't want to split 'em up, so into the bedroom they go as a kind of simian diptych. They'll be the first thing we see when we wake up in fact."
He also put together this web page that shows the paintings in their perfectly selected frames and it provides some additional info. I think the paintings are truly beautiful and I'm thrilled to have played a part in this transaction. Way to go Jason! Pablo himself would be proud. Chimp Pablo or human? It doesn't matter.
