When I saw the top flapping in the morning breeze, I pulled over immediately, thinking it was a banner draped over the switchbox (or whatever you call that thing). Disappointment met me with gooey fingers when I discovered it was a freshly wheat-pasted poster. 
Anyways, folks. Another shining example of our Constitution’s First Amendment right. The poster was completely torn off by mid-day.
Ain’t it great how politics and politicians bring out the best and worst in people?
In my childhood, one of the greatest escapes was the local video arcade. Throughout the ’80s, there were several on the Westside that I frequented:
There wasn’t a better way to escape boredom, homework, household chores, and sometimes life in general, than to break my dollars into quarters which I routinely fed into the awaiting machines, whose passage to paradise all started with the push of the Player 1 button.
Video arcades these days are practically extinct. None of the arcades I mentioned above still exist, except for The El Dorado Bowl, whose current selection of arcade games is a scant hollow shell in comparison to the wonderland it used to be.
Yet, in a brief Google for “’80s arcades”—an attempt to find even the smallest shred of visual evidence of these arcades—I stumbled upon three websites which, if whose forces were combined, may be able to construct a complete virtual arcade environment which I could escape to once again:
The Arcade Ambience Project: Seemingly the most popular destination for those who did the same ’80s arcade search, Mr. Hofle has dedicated himself to painstakingly recreating the aural ambiance of a typical video arcade by combining multiple sampled arcade sounds pertinent to different landmark years of the genre: 1981 (which rules), 1983, 1986, and even 1992 (Boo!! j/k). Available as downloadable MP3s and as high-quality audio CDs, these reminiscent blips and bleeps are a must-have for those who miss those days like I do. And they’re not short, either—the 1981 clip, for example, is an hour long.
CoinOpVideoGames.com has regaled us with a whole slew of authentic personally recorded arcade sounds direct from 1982 (what a year), when two best friends decided to use their Sony TCS-310 Stereo Cassette Recorder to record video game sounds. The up-close and personal feel of the recordings made me feel like I was right next to them watching them play. Being able to hear their young voices commenting on the action brought me right back to my Vans Slip-On-wearing days, back when they made checkers on the sole. Yes, on the sole. Try flashing back to that, kiddos.
Last but definitely not least, Cinemarcade’s Arcade ’84 project puts us smack dab in the middle of a virtual 3D mall arcade, with a 3-minute walk through the aisles, surrounded by the sights and sounds of games in action, complete with background music (which was common at arcades)—in this case, “Stone In Love” by Journey, which freakin’ rocks.
Each of these sites captures the old video arcade ambiance in different ways. If these three guys met and collaborated, I think they’d be able to create a complete virtual arcade environment to thrive in. Perhaps I should make some introductions…
Update: June 29, 2011: As the saying always goes, good things come to those who wait. And who would’ve known that someone in the Flickr neighborhood would have a whole collection of Vintage Arcade Pictures and Magazine Scans, including the picture above (which is too awesome for words…where the heck was that arcade?!). His photos are also part of another rad Flickr group, Growing Up In Arcades: 1979–1989.
These photos are among the best discoveries I’ve had in this decade—one won’t get the sounds, but the sights are so dead on that one will hear them like it was yesterday. Sadly though, no picture of my beloved Sega Center/Time-Out Arcade in Fox Hills Mall, but nevertheless, there are some truly great pics to behold.
Life is sweet for these ants.
I’ve always been fascinated with insects. It seems the smaller they are, the more my fascination.
Years ago, I remember seeing some spilled Coke (the soft drink) on the ground. Upon closer inspection, I saw an army of ants lined up along the sugary puddle’s entire perimeter, perfectly side by side, with each of their mandibles dipped into the coagulating liquid. They were all completely fixated and still, save for their antennae, which seemed to stroke the Coke lovingly.
I wondered what the hell they liked about Coke, then I figured it had to be the sugar.
In an effort to show lil’ Greg all of Earth’s natural wonders, I decided to perform my own rendition of the phenomena years ago. I didn’t have any Coke on hand, so I made my own concoction out of a pinch of pure sugar mixed with a drop or two of water. I’d shown him an ant trail before, and have even shown him how to feed the ants. But this sugary treat would be a first flight.
I explained to him that ants really love sugar, and proceeded to place a tiny drop of the sweet syrup right in the path of an ant trail in the front yard. Within a matter of seconds, the ants surrounded the blob, first inspecting the strange arrival then immediately piercing it with their mandibles, much to the delight of lil’ Greg, who exclaimed, “Look Daddy! They’re eating!”
Spreading Diabetes an ant colony at a time.
Once again, the ants displayed that same, focused intake, poised with their antennae seemingly stroking the blob. When I look at the pictures, I notice that their mandibles are barely touching it. I wonder if they’re somehow channeling the syrup between their mandibles with suction.
I’d like to perform a series of experiments, each using a different substance. If I do, I’ll be sure to share.
On our latest trip to Disneyland we were able to witness the annual phenomena named Bats Day At The Fun Park. This was unintentional, yet one of the many perks of having an annual pass (which I believe is the best investment ever for any SoCal family with young ones).
I knew something was up when I saw more than a handful of…well, what can I call them without generalizing…goths/rivetheads/cybergoths/gravers…anyways, they were dressed to the nines in the latest strapped, chained, buckled and chunky platform-shoed glory…some even sporting the cyber post-apocalyptic dreads of rebellion, others boasting full tilt androgyny, “Is that a dood?” “Yes, it’s a dood.” “Dood!”
The best part about this phenomena is it gives out-of-towners and tourists a real treat. Not only are these urban specimens morbidly mesmerizing, but they also give the foreigners a smack-in-the-face validation to the almighty stereotype that yes, L.A. people are fucking freaks for sure; something they can tell their loved ones when they pick them up at the airport. “It’s true! I saw them with my own eyes!” The looks on their faces as these angels of darkness fluttered by—from shock to surprise to utter disappointment—were priceless, ironic treasures which one would never expect from the Happiest Place On Earth.
Yet another plus—my What Would ZOD Do? shirt, which I coincidentally wore that day, conjured equally curious looks from some younger dark dozens (“Is there someone more evil than I? Hmmm…”) …and won critical acclaim from their older counterparts, who reveled in the evil ephemeral entity with approving nods, smiles and words, with one derby-clad lad even enlightening his friends to Zod’s existence and quoting him in true cold, Kryptonian Zod fashion: “Why do you say these things to me when you know I will kill you for it!” Excellent.
But by far, the greatest thing, and perhaps the most challenging—was trying to explain to one of our friends, straight from the tropical, sun-kissed and salsa-laden shores of Colombia, what this was all about. This was her first trip to Disneyland, and probably her first large-scale exposure to So Cal society. At first glance, her jaw hung open in disbelief. “Ay, Greg….¿por qué ellos van a vestirse así…estan locos, no?” (Oh Greg…why would they dress like that? They’re crazy, right?…)
After explaining to her that it was actually a fashion and culture, she looked even more puzzled. This especially after seeing a pasty-faced madame walking by in a full mourning dress with velvet gloves, hat and a parasol.
How could I best describe it? “Es un imagen de melancolia…tristeza y de obscuridad,” (It’s an image of melancholy, sadness and darkness) I explained. But even that was a very broad statement and not always true. How could I explain that despite the bleak and depressing image, goths and their cousins were actually amongst the happiest and most fun-loving bunch I’d ever known? The irony just wouldn’t translate. But I tried. “Pero eso es solo un imagen. Ellos son alegres” (But that is just an image. They’re happy people).
Then I remembered the everclear image of a goth circle of friends rushing to show me the slash marked scars on their wrists, like gleeful, giddy little children showing butterflies on their arms. All this commotion the result of me responding in concern when one of them said “I’ve tried to kill myself” (with a smile, of course).
Yeah, good luck trying to translate that.
So I simply said, “Bienvenidos a Los Angeles.”
