The Rackhouse Pub
203 S Kalamath St
Denver, CO 80223
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Our "Crossing the Streams" round on streams and Ghostbusters reminded me yet again of a passage from my friend's prose poem "His Feathered Goose Was in the Midst":
Me and my friends used to piss at the same time into the same toilet. Pretend we were the Ghostbusters.
“Whatever you do, don’t cross the streams.”
And the streams would cross.
This always ended with the bathroom being covered in piss.
But Gobot v. Transformers made sense -- two companies with different takes on the same idea. But then there was Ghostbusters v. The Real Ghostbusters, two cartoons and toy lines that had the exact same name. How the hell was that possible? It's like having The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles v. The REAL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Doesn't intellectual property law exist solely to prevent situations like that?
The other show, the one simply called "Ghosbusters," was the show favored by those second graders who sat in the back of the class farting on their hands and then smelling their hands. Instead of the crew from the movie, it had two random assholes plus a giant fucking gorilla who only make obnoxious grunting noises and wore short shorts, no shirt, a backpack and a hat like Indiana Jones' idiot cousin would've worn. And instead of Slimer, there was some lameass called Prime Evil, which is a pun on Primeval -- i.e. a joke that exactly 0 percent of the show's target audience understood. Which I guess isn't that significant, because I understand the pun now and it is about as funny as cat AIDS.
So how did such an obviously inferior cartoon get to right to be called "Ghostbusters," while the one based on the movie had to use the "Real" qualifier? Well it seems Filmation, the company who made the crappy version, had in 1975 put out a live-action Saturday morning kids' TV show starring Larry Storch and Forrest Tucker of "F Troop" fame. And it was called "The Ghost Busters." I really love F Troop and both of these actors, but holy fuck, they are no Ray Parker, Jr. -- just witness this abomination of a theme song.
We also had a quiz, and I was genuinely glad to see all of you and enjoyed your company. My nipples literally exploded with delight. Literally.