The Mads Are Back! No, Really, They Are!

            I’m going to ask the millions of you out in the worldwide interwebnets to indulge me for a second.  Yes, it is a lot to ask of you, but I think we have all grown somewhat during this award-seeking blogging experience.  Sure, we’ve had our ups and our downs.  We’ve had our hills and our valleys.  We’ve had our Funk and our Wagnalls, our Peaches and our Herb, our Benson and our Hedges.  We can do this!

 

            My lovely bride and I actually had a night out together this past Saturday.  After locking the babysitter in the house with our three heavily-sugared children, we managed to escape for our wild evening plans: dinner and a movie!  To clarify, by “dinner” I meant “grabbing drive-thru at Hardee’s” which we did eat, so there’s that.  And by “movie”, I meant “seeing The Mads from Mystery Science Theater 3000 perform live, riffing of the movie The Neanderthal Man at the Times Cinema in Milwaukee, WI”.  Seems so obvious now, doesn’t it?

 

What else did you expect?  They're EVIL!

 

            Oh golly, where to begin with this fabulous evening?  I will start with why I was excited to see Trace Beaulieu and Frank Conniff, the aforementioned Mads, in the first place.  At the tender age of 11, I began watching Mystery Science Theater at the start of Season Two in 1990.  (This was back when Comedy Central/CTV:The Comedy Network/Comedy Channel only ran McHale’s Navy reruns in-between CPO Sharkey reruns, so MST3K easily blew away the normal programming schedule.)  That episode had Rocketship X-M for my viewing pleasure.  Rocketship X-M actually turned out to be one of the better-made movies they did, so take that either as a warning or encouragement or both.

            That landmark episode also had the introduction of Frank Conniff as TV’s Frank.  Trace Beaulieu had already established the character of Dr. Clayton Forrester, one of the mad scientists that had started the bad movie experiment premise of the show.  But now Dr. Forrester had a new partner in TV’s Frank.  Would these characters mesh?  Thankfully, they meshed just like Joe Namath netted slingshot briefs.  In other better words, they clearly had a superb chemistry from the start.  From that moment through the end of Season 6, the interplay of the Mads was offbeat and quirky, sometimes dark, always fun. 

 

Oops, almost forgot this programming tentpole of the Comedy Central reruns! 
Soooo, moving on...

 

            Frank left the show after Season 6 and Trace left after Season 7.  MST3K lasted for another three seasons, but it wasn’t the same.  Not bad mind you, just different.  Frank did guest star in an episode during the final season so we fortunately got to see him in the blank tunic and spit curl one more time.  Mystery Science Theater was dead, long live Mystery Science Theater.  And if that’s not a pretentious way to end a paragraph, then I don’t know what is.  

            Frank and Trace reentered the world of movie riffing when they became members of Cinematic Titanic.  They joined MST3K alums Joel Hodgson, Mary Jo Pehl, and J. Elvis Weinstein for some DVD releases and live tours.  Fortunately, I was able to see them perform twice in the wilds of America’s Dairyland.  They also did Meet & Greets and autograph signings after the shows.  I’m sure Frank and Trace don’t remember meeting me at either time which is understandable.  However, I will help jog their memories: I was the nervous, socially awkward fan that avoided direct eye contact whilst sporting a dopey grin the whole time.  Remember me now?  No, I was the one on the right.  Yep!  That was me! 

 

            Trace and Frank now tour as The Mads Are Back, riffing bad movies live in theaters throughout the country.  They encourage fans to suggest venues that would fit their show.  I was happy to oblige and immediately thought of theaters in Milwaukee that would be perfect: the Rosebud and the Times.  I’m sure they saw my message on a random Facebook thread and went, “This Wink guy might have something here.  Call the Times theater.  Now!!”  I’m pretty sure that’s how it went down.  Oh, and you’re welcome, City of Milwaukee.

 

Oh now, Milwaukee!  You didn't have to go to such trouble thanking me!



 

            Why the Times?  I loved it ever since I started seeing classic movies there in the fall of 2002.  That was the magic of that theater at the time: seeing actual film being run through an actual projector on an actual screen.  The actual seats were old, the actual popcorn was good, and the actual price was $5 a show.  $5.50 if it was a double feature.  That’s right, I saw prints of both The Maltese Falcon and Double Indemnity for less than six bucks.  It was simply paradise.
 

            I didn’t even care if the print was in ragged shape.  Vertigo looked like it was dragged through a broken glass factory and then lovingly restored by a judicious application of hydrochloric acid.  But as it was Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo on actual film, I thought it was beautiful.  There were similar occurrences with Ben-Hur and The Bridge on the River Kwai, but I didn’t mind.  These were opportunities to finally see large scope movies on the big screen.  I’m not going to cry about scratches on the print and hisses on the soundtrack.  Bring it on!

 

            I can still remember my first movie at the Times: Strangers on a Train.  When I arrived I was surprised that the theater was so packed.  Apparently this theater wasn’t going to be my little secret.  Lucking into a seat in the back on the right hand aisle, I sat down just as Robert Walker and Farley Granger accidentally meet on the train.  Now I love Hitchcock, but having the chance to see his work on a theater screen was almost like a religious experience.  I couldn’t wait to come back.

 

            One of my early return trips to the Times was for a 1950s sci-fi double feature.  I told my brother about it and he decided that he had $5.50 to spare.  We saw Queen of Outer Space with Zsa Zsa Gabor and It! The Terror From Beyond Space with 100% less Gabor.  The whole time we were both trading what we thought were funny quips.  We came to the conclusion that these movies would have been perfect fodder for golden age MST3K.  But as the show was gone, this was not to be.

 

I made a mistake.  It turns out Zsa Zsa was in the IT! creature suit here.
She was soooo versatile!

 
            Then via a hackneyed contrived paragraph linking device of my own design, here are Trace and Frank in the Times Cinema riffing away at a horrible 1950s sci-fi movie!  It was surreal to be sure.  I can’t count the amount of moments that I was in that same lobby for a film and there’s the Mads chatting away with fans, selling merchandise there.  Speaking of “merch”, as the kids call it, both guys have books available which I highly recommend.  They are more than willing to sign and personalize stuff for you.   
 

Also offered were some pictures of them as the Mads and t-shirts with “The Mads Are Back!” emblazoned in an awesome design.  I would just like to say that having Dr. Forrester himself dig through a t-shirt bag to find a medium size shirt for my wife was a fun moment.  (Trace found one and my bride was quite thankful!  By the way, she wore it under a sweater when singing in church the next day.  We are very subversive for Lutherans, ya know.)  The Mads also had posters available, one for each of the movies they were riffing over the two days they were in town.  I picked up the poster for The Neanderthal Man and they signed that for us too.  By the way, the poster art design is top notch to boot.   

 

Isn't this a great poster?  It certainly is more action packed than the movie.

 
        The show itself was great.  It certainly helps that The Neanderthal Man is not that great.  Oh, you’ve seen worse movies, I reckon.  But if talking rather than action is your bag, then fortune smiles upon you.  Do you want to see some not-that-special effects?  What about a mad scientist that loves to get suddenly outraged for no real reason?  Maybe having Beverly Garland onscreen for far too short a time is to your liking?  Well, you are in luck as The Neanderthal Man has all of that and even less!

 

Jack Pollexfen, who also produced the MST3K experiments of Indestructible Man and Monstrosity (aka The Atomic Brain), is partly to blame for this film too.  Actually not having the Neanderthal Man fight the Indestructible Man in a later sequel is one of the wonderfulest missed opportunities in the history of unjustified film hyperbole.  If you want more MST3K connections, Robert Shayne, Richard Crane, Beverly Garland, Robert Easton, and Frank Gerstle all starred in at least a couple of films featured on the show.  (By the way, I just like saying “Frank Gerstle”.  Try it!  What a magnificent name indeed.)

 

Apparently, Frank Gerstle was the first choice to play Doc Brown in Back to the Future.

            Now one could pick apart The Neanderthal Man for its obvious shortcomings, but I’ll take the higher ground and mention some good things.  Thankfully it is short, so it does have that going for it, which is nice.  There’s a sort of saber-toothed tiger, but given that there’s a sort of Neanderthal man, it evens out.  Also on the plus side, if you suffer from high blood pressure, you don’t have to worry about any suspense or horror causing myocardial infarctions of any kind.  Did I mention that Beverly Garland is in it?  I did?  Hm.  That’s about it.

Here's some more of the lovely Beverly Garland.  You are quite welcome.

            Given that 1950s/60s sci-fi is my favorite genre to see riffed, The Neanderthal Man fits squarely in my wheelhouse.  The Mads did not disappoint and they clearly had fun with this movie.  They even allowed for moments for the ridiculousness of the movie to speak for itself.  This is why the live performance is a bonus because hearing them laugh at an incredulous moment amps up the shared experience.

 

Since she's a deaf mute in the film, I wouldn't worry about her calling for help.

            I highly recommend going to see The Mads Are Back.  The guys couldn’t be friendlier.  (I suppose they could be friendlier, but having Frank give foot rubs would have been awkward and a bit much.  Having him sign his books and pose with Trace for pictures with us was just fine.)  They also do a Q&A at the end of the show.  I heartily recommend being original, asking them a question they never heard before like, “What MST3K movie was the hardest one for you to watch?” or “What’s your favorite episode?”  I kid, of course, but…ahem.

            Be sure to like their Facebook page and get updates for upcoming shows.  They might be coming to a cinema near you.  And if they aren't, recommend one.  They stars could align and you could find yourself in a shotgun shack on the other side of the world, in your beloved theater, seeing a bad movie, and enjoying a moment with two hilarious people: Trace and Frank, the Mads from MST3K. 
       
   
             Now if we can just convince them to come back to Wisconsin some time...

Obviously the photographer was nervous with me being there too.  I don't blame him.
 

   

Iran, Iran So Far Away; or How I Realized I Am Not Above Puns

A recent photograph from the ever peaceful, calm, and collected floor of the Iranian Parliament has led me to bring forth several questions, points, and random irksome examples of personal ignorance.  Keep in mind, I don’t particularly care about whatever side of the political fowl you fall on, whether it be left-wing or right-wing.  In fact, can’t we all just agree that politicians give us the bird more often than not?  Good.

 

 

Here is the picture in question.  Zippo salesmen make $650K a year in Iran. 

 

 

Anyway, here we go:

 

·         Do you think that the folks that watch the Iranian C-SPAN get just as bored as their American counterparts?  Granted, compared to our having to watch the standard US Congress nozzleheads spluttering on about something irrelevant while on our dime in-between shoe shine sessions for their be-tasseled loafers, Iranian parliament certainly seems spicier and more dramatic indeed.  However, by the 49^th chant of “Death to Israel!” on a random Tuesday just before lunch, even the most die-hard official must get somewhat tired of the rhetoric.  At that point isn’t it just white noise to them?  

 

·         Maintaining that constant level of hatred is awfully tiring isn’t it?  I’ve tried holding grudges and aside from several evergreen areas that I can always direct some rage towards, more often than not I forget why I can’t stand someone and will absentmindedly send them a Christmas card anyways.  Of course, this letter gets returned as refused, which reminds me why I hated them in the first place as they don’t accept my letters and the balance is restored.  However it at least took me a stamp to figure that out rather than always keeping the kettle of violent anger on a hot burner.

 

·         How many times do the fire alarms go off in that building?  Quite a bit I should think given the circumstances.  Does the local fire department just brush off any alerts that come across their switchboard?  I mean they should get pretty sick of having to show up in full gear and complement only because yet another demonstration happened on the main floor. 

 

·         I am glad that at least the burning demonstrations are not using actual flags in the process.  The horrible vapors that can come off while igniting a nylon flag are not only quite detrimental to healthy breathing but also certainly create a literal toxic work environment.

 

·         Thankfully, tourists who smoke never have to worry if they forgot their lighter when in Iran, since apparently every single member of the Iranian parliament is ready to blaze up at a moment’s notice.

 

·         Given current reactions on the parliament floor and in the interests of diplomatic peace, I would make the recommendation to not watch The Delta Force during the Iran/Israel/United States movie night at this time.  Of course even the hardcore Iranian parliament members would definitely have to admit through angrily clenched teeth that Chuck Norris is certainly unstoppable in that film. 

 

The science has not been invented to measure the masculinity in this picture.

·         Does the “Death to America” stack of papers stay on the floor, only because there’s always a chance for a diatribe to occur?  “But we were only going to discuss the Public Playground Placement bill.  Where you expecting to direct the conversation towards hatred of America yet again, Mr. Speaker?”

 

·         That being said, it is rather hard for me as an American to take any Iranian hint of an idea of a notion towards peaceful coexistence as being serious when they can whip out lighters and “Death to America” stationary from out of nowhere with such speed and ease when they hear something they don’t like.  I can’t find a pen when I need one, yet some of these people are practically the ninjas of well-equipped demonstration.

 

·         They must go through a lot of color ink cartridges in printing those things out right?  There must be pages left and right whose only job is to order them online from Staples or grab the printouts from their standing order at Kinko’s.  Otherwise, they run the risk of not having the handouts available for any day in which the country of the United States exists.

 

·         How long did it take to get the margins correct on those sheets?  After all, since you want to make sure that the entire “Death to America” phrase is on the same page, you’d have to fiddle with the font, right?  But that takes some time and patience with the file.  Maybe the Jokerman font doesn’t give the phrase a chance to be taken as seriously as the Gill Sans Ultra Bold font does.  It is all about the aesthetics and practicality when the day is done.

 

·         If you look closely in the picture, the handout has little footsteps walking on top of the flag as well!  That adds yet another artistic layer.  This certainly takes it above the old boring standard of screaming at a burning flag in the street. 

 

·         Also, given the variety of the “Death to America” images available, who knew that Bernie Sanders had so many unused campaign images on his jump drive?  I’m just glad that he told the parliament to download Adobe beforehand!  That certainly saved some time and frustration when Sanders sent them his image files.

 

Now, I believe in being topical and current.  That’s why I once devoted a month to writing about the movies of Boris Karloff, a man who has been dead for 50 years.  I hope this is all taken in the right spirit of warmth and jest.  Now who’s for watching Delta Force?  Aw nuts.  Too soon?  Hey, put down your lighter, I was kidding!

 

"Who needs a lighter, when I've got this bike?"

 

Taking A Walk Through Mister Rogers' Neighborhood

            As I approach my second full score, I used to believe my immaturity kept me relatively in touch with what the kids like today.  However after some ponderous reflection, I had a moment of clarity that I wish to share at this moment: my immaturity keeps me in touch with what I liked back when I was a kid.  You see, I could find a way to care less about what current interests children have today, but I don’t care enough to even do that.  What with the condom sniffing, paint chip eating, laundry detergent pod challenging, and protesting puppets on a string that currently pass as “children”, well let’s just say I’d rather dive back into my own childhood for comfort than even attempt to figure out what makes these kids tick.

            This of course presents a different challenge as I have children of my own.  As a parent, I know that I’m screwing things up for my children.  Oh yes, and don’t worry, you’re screwing up your children too!  We all are causing horrible damage, so just accept it.  Our parents weren’t geniuses and their parents weren’t either.  And it wasn’t like they came from a long line of smartypantsed people either.  I shall quote from The Waco Kid himself, “You’ve got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know… morons.”  Sure, once in a while the family tree includes a branch to Galileo but more often than not it leads to yet another obstinate stump.

 

Few people knew that Fred Rogers was a literal giant.

            But once in a while something that I enjoyed from my youth settles into my children’s psyche and I couldn’t be more overjoyed.  It gives me hope for the future.  Sure my generation wasn’t the greatest or the boomiest or the X-iest or the Millennialest (thankfully!), but we had some rather cool things come down the pipe that I’m more than willing to share with my brood.  So they live in a house with the old school Super Mario Brothers and M.A.S.K.  They‘re into Transformers, play with Lego, and examined classic Sesame Street.  They read Berenstain Bears and watch Voltron.  In other words, they are the hippest kids from 1987 that are sadly stuck in 2018. 

            Usually my wife and I witness these moments, take pride in that we have kids that enjoy the original Duck Tales show, and then go on with our day.  But the other day, I introduced something into the lives of these kids that genuinely moved me to tears.  Or the room was just dusty.  That could have been it.  Yep.  Dusty.  Anyway, what was it that produced such a reaction?  Two days ago, my children watched Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood for the very first time.

 

Thank you SCTV and your Battle of the PBS Stars!

            Oh sure, in the past they have watched Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood on PBS.  While it does take place in the Land of Make-Believe and there are connections to the original show, it never really did anything for me.  It did a little bit more for my kids, but overall, they passed on the show.  I can’t blame them as they don’t know the history, never heard of Fred Rogers, and don’t have even a smidge of nostalgia that was inherent in such a spin-off project.

 

            This past month has been an immersion in Fred Rogers and his legacy.  Fred Rogers would have turned 90 this year and it was the 50^th anniversary of the start of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.  There was a new documentary hosted by former Neighborhood crew member and best Batman ever Michael Keaton.  There’s going to be a new movie with Tom Hanks playing Mister Rogers.  Fred Rogers was honored with a great postage stamp where he’s pictured with King Friday.  With that barrage, the memories came flooding back to me and hopefully to anyone else that was a child from 1968 through 2001.

 

And yet Fred Rogers never was on The Next Generation?!

             To commemorate this occasion, PBS also decided to release a four-disc set of episodes from 1979 through 2001.  Now when our first child was teeny, my wife and I looked for older learning materials to show her.  We hit upon the old school Sesame Street DVD sets, which showcased episodes from the timeframe of our childhoods.  I remember looking for DVDs of Fred Rogers but there just wasn’t anything that jumped out.  The same held true when my sons were born and I checked again.  Then a new DVD set comes along but my daughter is now seven and the boys are 5.  Would they like this now?  Would they be too jaded by all those episodes of Mighty Machines and Thomas & Friends that they had shoved into their brains?
 

            Ultimately I decided to get the set.  If they hated it or were disinterested, then tough cookies.  At the very least, I would have a nostalgic trip and chances are my wife would come along for the ride.  The set eventually came but there wasn’t really an opportunity to test it out and face the possible indifference from my children.

 

            Then fate took a turn and my eldest (by two minutes) boy decided to have a breakdown.  He had a full blown China Syndrome-like meltdown going.  (And yes, go and look that reference up.)  He wouldn’t calm down, Mommy was busy teaching, and we were getting close to bedtime.  I didn’t want to put something on that would rile him up even more, so the soothing satisfaction of blasting away Decepticons would have to wait.  Seeing that Fred Rogers set, I made the judgment call out of nowhere, “Who wants to watch Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood?”

 

The guy on the right didn't have a great puppet show.

            My younger (by two minutes) son and my daughter agreed immediately.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  No matter how mind-numbing any event that involves a chance to watch the TV might be, they are in.  With approval of 2/3^rds of the children, I popped the first disc in and hit play.  Once we got past the familiar PBS kids logo, I didn’t know what would happen.  After all, these episodes were near 40 years old.  Would the kids at the very least tolerate it?
 

            When that opening music started and Mister Rogers came in singing “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” my fears were unfounded.  Six eyes were instantly glued to that screen.  (Okay fine, eight eyes were instantly glued to that screen.)  The boys were even participating: if Mister Rogers asked a question, the boys answered!  They were fully involved and this was before the trolley even showed up.  When we went to the Land of Make-Believe, they were on firmer ground since they recognized some of the characters from Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.

 

The trolley was actually that huge, which isn't that huge.

            Finally, “It’s Such a Good Feeling” was being sung, Mister Rogers put away his cardigan and put on his street shoes, and he looked right at the camera saying that we were special.  He then said, “Bye, bye!” and walked out the door as the camera panned away from the model neighborhood and the jazz piano kicked into high.  It was right about at that time when I realized that the living room was just terribly dusty and there must have been many various particles in the air because that’s the only reason that comes to mind when trying to explain my reaction.  But how did the kids react?

 

            They wanted another episode!  So I obliged and as they watched the show, I watched their faces.  The elder boy had calmed down by now and was silently interacting with the show.  His facial expressions were changing, he was mouthing words, and he was smiling.  The other guy was beaming from ear to ear.  Even my daughter was eager to start watching more of the neighborhood.

 

            I don’t know why I ever thought that their reactions would have been dismissive.  After all, they are my kids and have jumped onto a lot of older franchises and shows and books that I enjoyed as a child.  Perhaps I thought the format of this particular show was just too small for them or too simple.  Maybe I thought that we were more sophisticated.  Perhaps this kind of program wouldn’t resonate with minds that are accustomed to the flashy, overblown, and effects laden children’s programming we’ve sadly come to expect.
 

I wanted that set then.  I want it now.

            But no.  Fred Rogers knew better and had a simple show where he would talk directly to the audience with care and warmth.  He never talked down to children and it created a connection.  He told every single child that they were unique individuals.  They were special because there’s no one else who was them.  These approaches worked then and judging by my children’s reactions, it still has an effect today.  My moppets never knew what the man even looked like last week and now are absolutely taken with the man and his show.
 

            His curiosity would mirror a child’s curiosity.  He would never use sarcasm or cutting remarks and the man’s sincerity was a wonder to behold.  He would use music and the puppets and interactions and field trips and honesty and would mix everything up in a nice atmosphere for children to enjoy.

            No, he never was Army sniper with a life filled with regretful killing that led him to the ministry.  No, he didn’t have arm loads of tattoos that he covered up with the cardigans.  Yes, he did give director George Romero some of his first film work and he enjoyed Romero's Dawn of the Dead (?!).  Yes, Rogers almost singlehandedly saved public television when he testified before the Senate in 1969.  Yes, I’m sure that the house wasn’t dusty and I’m just trying to cover up being a softy.

 

Mister Romero's Neighborhood was different.

  

            Fine, I have no shame in mentioning it: I missed Mister Rogers.  He was by all accounts one of the most genuine, most patient, most helpful, and nicest people on the planet.  He was sincere and knew that no matter what circumstances were at home for the kids that watched his show, those kids understood they had someone that made them feel special.  Look at the children’s TV or online content nowadays and find someone who is even fractionally comparable to Fred Rogers.  Yeah, you won’t find them. 

            I am glad that at the very least my children will grow up having a little bit of Fred Rogers in their lives.  Hopefully other nostalgic parents take the plunge and get this DVD set.  I hope sales encourage the release of other episodes.  I would never tell someone how to parent, but I think you owe it to your kids to shut the tawdry garbage off and have them get into the Neighborhood as soon as possible. 

In Memoriam: MAD Magazine

          Well, it finally happened.  I hate saying when the end of an era has come.  After all, am I even qualified to make such a determination?  Especially in this regard where I have no say in the matter at hand, no horse in this race, no Miss South Dakota in the pageant.  All I can do is assess my surroundings, take stock of what has come and what is going to come, and make a final prognosis.  So if you would all please join me in taking our hats off in respect, saying a quick if not irreverent prayer, and meeting in the fellowship hall for dry ham sandwiches and soggy potato chips, I would greatly appreciate it.  The time has finally arrived.  MAD magazine has passed away.

 

          With issue #550, MAD magazine as we all know it will cease to exist.  Yes, there will be a rebooted MAD coming in April 2018 with a new first issue, but for all intents and purposes the magazine that William M. Gaines founded is now ultimately gone.  They are moving operations from New York and most if not all of the staff are not going along for the ride to the new digs in Los Angeles.  There will be a new editor-in-chief taking over the reins from 30+ year veteran John Ficarra and according to DC co-publisher Dan DiDio, “I knew moving to the west coast wouldn’t change MAD too much.”  Huh.  (This is the same creative mind that put his okay on DC’s New 52, so DiDio certainly knows what is unintentionally hilarious.)

 

          And so it begins.  MAD on the west coast?  While I bear no ill will to the new creative staff, I must encouragingly say this: “Nah.”  By severing ties with the last vestiges of the Usual Gang of Idiots, Time Warner/DC Comics has shown that they are only concerned about the MAD name brand.  Content is secondary at best.  As DC has displayed such wisdom with how they reboot their comic universe every fifteen minutes or so, why continue to prove that you don’t know what you’re doing by doing what you’re doing to MAD?  

 

I'm guessing DC never brought their Stupid Questions to Al Jaffee.

  

          Now to be fair, MAD hasn’t been the sales giant it once was.  Back in the 1970s, I believe everyone with a vowel in their name bought an issue.  But those times are past and we’re now in whatever the hell decade we’re calling this one right now.  MAD was a monthly publication for a while, and then 8 times a year, then a monthly, then a quarterly, and then 6 times a year, and then only in months with the letter ‘R’ in their names.  Part of the reason to cut back production was definitely sales, but there always has been a core audience.  And here’s where it gets odd.

 

          MAD magazine is certainly a peculiar duck among publications.  They haven’t changed much from what Bill Gaines established.  Yes, they went to color printing.  Yes, they started having ad space for actual products that actually exist.  But overall, the format has been retained.  In a world where print is dead every other day, MAD was a constant in an ever-changing world.  Others might argue that is why a change like a reboot had to come because the magazine was a dinosaur.  But by cutting off the ties with the past, I’m sure most of the current readership no longer have that nostalgic feeling and won’t go forward with MAD: The Reboot. 

 

We miss you, Bill.
 

          You see, yes the audience is graying, but they were passing along their love of the magazine to their kids and beyond.  Millennials aren’t flocking sight unseen to the newsstand, if they can find one, to seek out a print humor magazine that started out in 1952.  The audience isn’t blindly coming from that pool, no matter how many times you stick Donald Trump on the cover as of late.  The circulation comes from the older readers handing it over to the new blood.  But when the older contributors are no longer a part of the magazine, I lose interest entirely.

 

My daughter is 7 years old and thankfully she now knows MAD.  Or at the very least she knows MAD’s Maddest Artist Don Martin via a couple of books that I gave her.  She loves them and I have a wonderful feeling when I see mommy yelling at her to read something better than that stuff.  Obviously parental solidarity prevents me from overtly showing how pleased as punch I am about her reading material choices.  (Hey, I was that same kid hearing the same stuff from my mom!)  What’s next for her?  The MAD Marginal cartoons?  The Lighter Side?  Spy vs. Spy?  The Fold-ins?  The primers, the parodies, the songs, the MAD Takes a Look at whatevers? 

 



No one but Sergio Aragonés could make that many ducks look intimidating.
 

          I’ve been a reader of MAD since 1987 and I can still remember the cover of the first issue that I got.  Beverly Hills Cop II’s Eddie Murphy was grinning about how he’s about to shoot at a target with Alfred E. Neuman behind it.  The next issue was even better with a Season’s Greetings cover that had Alfred dressed up as the Easter bunny going into a snow-covered chimney.  My nine year-old mind was hooked from that moment. 

 

If only Eddie smiled this much today...

I hunted down the magazine and sought out their paperbacks at grocery stores and flea markets.  I proudly owned the MAD board game, frustrating all that agreed to play it with me.  Every MAD Super Special was grabbed up and when there was no MAD available, I even sought out rivals like Cracked.  (This was back when Cracked was a moderately funny magazine, instead of the moderately unfunny, tar pit of lists website it is today.) 

 

For an art fair in grade school, I woodburned an image of Alfred and the MAD logo, placing third since the judges either had taste or didn’t, depending on how you want to interpret that.  From the MAD parodies, I knew the ins and outs of movies and TV shows that I had never seen. Most importantly, I discovered what the word “schmuck” meant.  (Judging by some comment about the west coast, I now believe it started out as a derivation of the word “didio”.) 

 

This makes more sense than the actual Easter Bunny.

          Thinking that I had evolved past MAD, I fell off the wagon for some time.  However, discovering myself in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with a new job and unfamiliar surroundings, I fell back on what I knew.  I started picking up MAD again and sure enough there were plenty of the old guard around, keeping watch on the content, never straying from the roots.  I proudly framed the Soul of MAD art print I received for subscribing again so every day I can see Alfred painting the blacktop in my bedroom.  Feel free to put whatever dirty double entendre you’d like on that.

 

          MAD almost felt like a family member to me: it came over to eat me out of house and home, was almost always found in the bathroom, and avoided my entreaties to help move a couch.  Unlike a family member, the art was quite good, I could skip over the dull bits, and it never complained when I would do the fold-in.  Continuing the family parallel, I found myself very saddened when MAD staffers would pass away.  Jack Davis, Don “Duck” Edwing, John Caldwell, Paul Peter Porges, Bob Clarke, Al Feldstein, Lenny Brenner, Barry Liebmann have all gone in the past several years alone.  I was genuinely taken aback when I heard of each one passing.    

 

Jack Davis had to have at least 18 fingers in order to draw all that.

          Even more remarkable were the voices that still were working on the magazine at this time.  Editor-in-Chief John Ficarra had been an Editor-in-Chief since 1984.  Art Director Sam Viviano, Senior Editors Charlie Kadau and Joe Raiola, writers Dick DeBartolo and Frank Jacobs, artists Sergio Aragonés and the venerable Al Jaffee still contributed to the magazine.  It was great to have these voices of continuity.  Because above all else, the voice of Bill Gaines continued on through these writers and artists and editors.  There was the connection, the bridge to the past, the nostalgia.  And now it is gone.

 

          Fortunately, old issues aren’t outrageously over-priced.  MAD paperback books consisting of reprints or original material are in plenty of places online or in used book stores.  MAD did some newer hardcover reprints of material as tributes to individual artists and writers such as Dave Berg, Don Martin, Frank Jacobs, Mort Drucker, and Sergio Aragonés.  These are easy enough to find or if you want to come over to my house, call ahead and you can read some of the copies I have for a nominal fee.

 

          Going forward, the magazine for all intents and purposes is gone.  MAD, you will be missed indeed.  Thank you for the entertainment and some of the best art and writing from the greatest group of schmucks and schmendricks ever assembled on the MAD zeppelin.  The legacy of the original MAD is still alive.  At least in my household as I raise my own Usual Gang of Idiots.  As always, “What, Me Worry?” Potrzebie!