Exactly what it sounds like. Life's full of regret. And I've made it my mission to post at least one per day. Join me, won't you?

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DAY 1292

DC has spent a majority of its existence playing catch-up with Marvel.


The way history tells it, DC was the bigger kid on the playground for decades. But eventually, Marvel grew up & started horning in on the action, leaving DC to - for the most part - become Pepsi to Marvel’s Coke.

This horribly rendered, CGI garbage pretty much encapsulates it.


Notice I said “for the most part.” Although DC has trailed Marvel in the past, there HAVE been some noticeable exceptions.

Universe-altering stories that defined the word “crossover,”


reinventions of classic characters that shaped how we’d view them


& even genre-bending tales that gave birth to countless imitators.


And yet, none of these groundbreaking moves would’ve happened if DC hadn’t been busting ass to be as gritty & impactful as Marvel.

I’ve railed on DC’s domination in the animation realm before. I like to think it officially started in 1992 with one little cartoon:


It only lasted a mere three years, but it shaped everything they did from then on, blossoming into some seriously expansive shit for the DCU.


Well, even though they can lay claim to one my favorite live-action superhero debuts/sequels, 


they’ve always struggled to keep up with Marvel Studios’ massive lead in that arena.


Sure, there have been a few blumpkins in the past for Marvel,


but their latter-day victories FAR outshine their past failures.

And now that DC has stepped up & decided that it’s FINALLY time to compete & not put out flick after flick of pointless origin stories of characters even 2-year-olds know about, we arrive at today’s regret.


Great. The fucking Rock as “Shazam.”

You know what? I don’t really care.

And you know why? Because I don’t fucking care about “Shazam.” I’ll even misquote Max Landis by saying, “YOU don’t fucking care about ‘Shazam.’ Even if you think you do.”


Hell, I didn’t even care about him when I watched his live-action series in the 70’s.


Billy Batson’s expression on the left there? That was me.

So, do you really think my opinion would change now that we’re 30 years out from that pile?


That’s right, Moz. It hasn’t changed. 

Shazam (AKA Captain Marvel) is just a goody-two-shoes version of Supes to me.


Even though Grant Morrison did some fun stuff with this character in his JLA run, the ONLY interesting thing about Shazam is his arch-nemesis, Black Adam.


A character with about 1000x more depth & sincerity than Shazam EVER had, in my opinion. 


Surprise! Turns out, The Rock was campaigning to be THAT character, too. But now we’ve got him as Shazam. And I regret that this flick is in DC’s future.

Mainly because all I can see is this dude as Black Adam


& Shazam being played by the obvious choice.


Yeah, I know, I know. Nobody would cast Warburton as Shazam.

But every geek worth their salt knows that Shazam was originally modeled after THIS guy.


Yep. Fred “My Three Sons”/”Absent-Minded Professor”/”Double Indemnity” MacMurray. 

So, is Warburton REALLY that much of a stretch now?

And if you wanna use The Rock so badly, I can think of a couple of DCU characters he would bring his A-game to.


And it’s not like I actually MADE these two images. I don’t have even these rudimentary of skills. The INTERNET is to blame!

So, here’s what I propose, DC. It’s from the heart because I’m one of your fading demographics & champions. 

Listen to the people from now on. Maybe even do a damn Google search like I did. Even the diehard Marvel geeks will see your movies.


But you need step this shit up. Soon.

Because a third-tier set of Marvel characters (that just about NOBODY outside of true geeks knows about) is getting ready to smoke your ass.


DAY 1291

Let me start by saying that I’m not much of a country fan. Although being from the South means that there are a few things that have seeped into my DNA.

This album, for instance.


Even though this was a staple of most Southern crackers’ record collections, I never actually owned it. However, I somehow know 90% of the songs on it.


Sad, but true, my friend. Not sure how. Blame it on:

• Rampant radio airplay
• “Couples Only” skates
• Friends who owned it

The point is that I still have a visceral reaction when I hear songs like “Ruby (Don’t Take Your Love To Town),”or “Lucille.” And don’t even get me started on ”She Believes In Me.” Total crytown. Not sure why.

And let’s not forget about THIS phenomenon:


I mean, a LOT of people make a big deal about the time Run DMC & Aerosmith teamed up.


But that’s fucking peanuts in my book.

When Rogers recorded Richie’s “Lady" (which was also produced by Richie), this was probably the most colossal step ANY two music genres had ever made. Or HAS ever made.*

I mean, the closest African-Americans got to country was THIS dude up to that point.


These two singer/songwriters legitimately dug each other, 


regardless of what their respective industries thought of it.

Okay, so I’m building up to something here.


Like many of you, I’ve been seeing that stupid Kenny Rogers Geico commercial a lot lately.


You know, the “Did You Know” about “The Gambler?” 

Well, I’ve been thinking about how much I hate this commercial. Mainly because the guy who says, ”Playing cards with Kenny Rogers gets old really fast,”




I know, Neil deGrasse Tyson. It boggles even YOUR mind. Or are you rolling your eyes because this is a worthless thing to be upset about?


Alright, alright. There’s no need for THAT. Act like an adult, please.


Anyhoo, seeing that commercial obviously got me thinking about Kenny Rogers again. And after a little research, I found out that his potential fluke, “The Gambler” TV movie series,


didn’t just spawn ONE sequel.


It shit out a third (read as “turd”),


a fourth (read as “farth”)


& a fifth (read as “filth”).


Sure, that last one has Dixie Carter, “Law & Order” & Loni Anderson going for it, but dammit.

I guess I regret that something as one-note as “The Gambler” -


a song I actually used to like - would produce something this sad & drawn-out (with the possibility of a sixth one on the way).


Ugh. I’m just happy my all-time favorite Kenny Rogers song


never got this kind of half-assed treatment.



* The Rogers/Richie combo also never spawned something as fucking horrible as THIS. 


Check & fucking mate, bitch.

D A Y  1 2 9 0

I often wonder if rock snobbery is nature or nurture. 

Every other post here on Regret-A-Day seems to be about my own rock snob qualities. I like to think I vent most of my snobbishness here & try my damnedest not to air my snobby laundry out in public. Well, as long as you discount yesterday’s regret.

Anyway, I was in a Band phase for a while. And although all their albums have a lot to offer, I never loved any as much as their self-titled debut.

The only reason I ever gave “The Band” an initial listen was because of my father.

He actually died when I was three months old, so I technically never knew him. But I spent a majority of my life surrounded what he left behind. Old clothes, everyday trinkets, a few recordings of his voice, home movies & a smattering of albums he owned.

I used to stare into the eyes of The Band on the front of an old cassette he used to own. 

• What kind of music is in here?
• Who are these dirty hoboes?
• Who calls themselves “The Band?”

Well, all of those questions were answered immediately upon my first listen. And a wave of sadness quickly buried me once I realized that the last person to play this cassette was my dead dad. But it definitely gave me a little bit of insight into what made him tick.

As I grew older, the High Fidelity phrase "It’s not what you’re like, it’s WHAT you like" stuck with me more & more as I thought about my father’s connection to this beat-up cassette tape that used to sit on our dinky stereo system.

I’ve spent most of my life living in the shadow of a man I never knew. A man I’ve learned about from older relatives, most of whom say I’m just like him, whether it’s the way I walk, talk or weird habits I’m not even aware of.

But there are some things I’ll never truly know. Like what bands he was REALLY into. Songs that he totally dug on. And if I got this damn rock snob gene from him.

In the end, I regret that I’ll never know any of this.  

D A Y  1 2 8 9

Those who weren’t teenagers in the 80’s may think this sounds like some old man talking, but I am one, so shut up. (Oh, and listen up.)

Back then, TV stations would actually go off the air at a certain time every night.

Honest to God. OFF the air. Like not-coming-back-on-until-6-am off the air. Believe it or not, there just wasn’t enough programming.

That’s where cable came in (which also ran the risk of going off the air after a given time). 

Then the USA Network came along with a late-night show that was kind of the vanguard of into-the-wee-hours programming called “Night Flight.” And whoever was in charge of the programming was my fucking idol.

They had four hours, starting at 11 pm to showcase stuff like:

Seldom-Seen Movies
Fantastic Planet,” Warhol films, “Ladies & Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains" & my first viewing of "Night Of The Living Dead."

• Non-MTV Videos
They had a series called “Take Off,” which linked certain videos with a theme like sex, violence, animation, etc.

• Underground Video Series
My favorite? An LA public access show called New Wave Theater, where I got my first glimpse of Fear, The Blasters, The Plugz, etc.

They also ventured into documentaries that my cracker ass had never seen. Enter “Another State Of Mind.” I must’ve seen this documentary at least a dozen times back in the day. Later on, I bought it & have watched it just as many times.

It features punk icons like Youth Of Today, Minor Threat & Social Distortion, among others.

Basically, THIS doc is why my friends & I wanted to start a band. And more specifically, a PUNK band. It was the reason we were straying away from our love of Pink Floyd & buying instruments to play this revved-up, angst-driven music.

Okay, well, that’s just the preamble.

I was at Highland Fest today & bumped into some guy at the Half Price Books tent. The conversation went a little something like this:


SAM picks up 1990’s “Social Distortion” CD marked $2. Flips it over to look at the songs then puts it back.

PUNK DUNCE next to him (who’s wearing a GBH shirt, denim vest with punk patches all over [including a few Social Distortion ones] & spiked, blue hair to top it off) notices this.

PUNK DUNCE - You’re not gonna get that?
SAM - Not really. You want it?
PUNK DUNCE - No, man. I’ve owned that for years. You should buy it.
SAM - This is that latter-day Social Distortion? (quick gravelly singing) “Take away this ball & chain.”
PUNK DUNCE - Yeah. Fucking rules.
SAM - I like their earlier stuff more. Like “Mommy’s Little Monster?”

PUNK DUNCE stares for three agonizing beats. 

PUNK DUNCE - No, man. This is the one you need to start with.
SAM - I’m not really a big fan of rockabilly. 
PUNK DUNCE - This isn’t rockabilly. This is punk.
SAM - Or cowpunk or whatever.
PUNK DUNCE - This is straight-up punk, man.
SAM - Compared to “Mommy’s Little Monster,” this isn’t really punk.
PUNK DUNCE - I don’t know what “Mommy’s Little Monster” is, but this is really good.
SAM - Have you ever seen “Another State Of Mind?”


SAM - It’s a punk documentary with Social Distortion in it. You should check it out. Mike Ness is so skinny in it.

More crickets.

SAM (slowly walking away) - Good talking to you.


Well, that’s pretty much how the conversation went anyway. 

And after a heated rock geek back & forth like that, I regret that there are people in this world who only go so deep with bands. Those people who buy one album, but won’t go back & do research into how awesome these bands were in the beginning.

But mostly, I regret that once again my snobiness got in the way of my geekiness. 

DAY 1288

I’ve seen most of Alexander Payne’s films.

For the record, I’ve dug what I’ve seen.

And I’m sure there are some film scholars who could pick out a Payne film with a name-this-director-in-one-scene quiz.

I couldn’t honestly tie any of his films together from a stylistic POV. That’s not saying there isn’t an “Alexander Payne style.” I just can’t see it. Maybe because his stuff is generally so subtle.

In other words, he’s not like some directors out there, who bust ass to make sure people know it’s one of his.

Maybe I’m just not seeing a throughline between “Election,”


& “Nebraska.”

I mean, besides people being slightly broken physically & incredibly crippled emotionally.

And ultimately, that’s okay. Maybe THAT’S the kinds of stories he wants to tell. I’ve honestly enjoyed everything I’ve ever seen. Maybe I just want to see more similarities between all of them.

Well, all this is simply foundation for what I’m about to reveal.

I watched Alexander Payne’s “The Descendants” tonight.

Once again, good shit. But I regret that all I could think about was how Shaggy

had sex with Clooney’s wife.

And Shaggy’s wife is actually the Sprint “Framily” wife.

And I’m not blaming this on Alexander Payne or anything. But at least when somebody like Wes Anderson recycles actors, I’m able to pull them away from roles they played before.

If anything, I’m just wanting Payne to use dreamy Sandra Oh more.


Man, am I behind the times. Apparently they were married. And have been divorced since 2006.

That’s a shame.

Well, none of that changes the fact that I regret being an actor who knows how this industry works, yet still can’t fathom what “Framily” sees in “SCL Punk.”

DAY 1287

So, I’ve been rehearsing this Minnesota Fringe show lately.


I can’t even begin to describe what it’s actually about. In case you’re curious, here are the only two things you need to know about it:

• Cat cloning
• Cat handjobs


As well you should be, dreamsicle.

Anyhoo, we’ve been rehearsing in a church & I’m still surprised how many strange, random rooms I take Regret-A-Day inspiration from. 

This men’s bathroom, for instance.


It’s tiny, it smells like a urinal cake drizzled in ball sweat & I wouldn’t be shocked to find out that a youth pastor had knocked off little boys in there. 

And I’m talking recently. 


I should also mention that it’s connected to the scariest, foot-stankiest, “Nightmare On Elm Street”-inspired gym I’ve ever witnessed.


Well, while taking a whiz in this sorrow closet, I stared deeply into THIS, which was located right above the toilet.


Uh-huh. I get the whole play on words they were going for.


See, call me a cranky, old cynic or a non-believer or whatever, but I’ve never attended a church where aiming to please was high on its list of priorities.



1. Bore them to tears? Done. 

2. Guilt trip like a mutherfucker? Check.

3. Make tax-free money hand over first?


But nothing on that list is really that regrettable. It’s so commonplace, nobody necessarily questions or debates it anymore. I mean, any haters know what’s coming if they do.


Well, I took a closer look at the sign over the crapper.


Somebody really, REALLY planned this thing out before picking up the red marker. This shit is meticulous. 


And yet, the end result looks like it was created by a fucking dunce.


Which is where today’s regret takes us. I regret seeing stuff like this out in the real world. Things that are overwrought with needless work, 


yet aren’t thought out or executed well at all.


Okay, so maybe I’m being too harsh on this. Nit-picky, if you will.

An overarching regret would be that this probably took them WAAAAAAAAAAAAY more time than it should’ve.


And there’s a possibility that this is their ONLY creative outlet.

Which they do shittily.

Which saddens me beyond belief. 


I’m NOT crying, dammit. I have something in my eye.

D A Y  1 2 8 6

I have a hideously sick dark side. It’s one I don’t normally let out. But it’s there. Oh, man, is it there.

Cargo cults, serial killers, John Zorn, you name it.*

Anyway, I think everybody’s got that side of them. So, I’m not saying my fascination with this stuff is all that unique. Hell, most of the people I follow on Tumblr expose that side of themselves with every post.

Somehow I found this video that was put out by the always awesome AMOK Books from back in the day.

It’s NSFW. It’s violent. And best of all, it’s totally random. Or so it appears.

Well, I just watched the whole thing. And even though I sat here captivated by every second of it, I regret the feeling it gave me afterwards. Not so much sick as much as depressed in a way.

Especially the coup de grace at the end. Something I’ve heard about for years, but never actually seen: the broadcast of the Budd Dwyer suicide.**


Mostly, I regret that I won’t be getting that image out of my head for a long time.

* The John Zorn thing was a joke. Although not a very good one.

** If you plan on watching this video, but don’t wanna see the Budd Dwyer thing, I advise stopping it around the 55:30 mark. You’ve been warned. 

lilpantt said: Flower beards is not a new trend It started in 1977.

I hear you. I’m not sure if I ever technically said that this is a “new trend,” per se. But regardless, trends have a way of being cyclical anyway. I guess my point is that if it started in ‘77, I sure as hell wish it hadn’t made a comeback.

As trends go, it’s probably my least favorite so far. I mean, besides Pet Rocks & fanny packs.

DAY 1285



Just stop.


Please. Fucking. Stop.


Stop with all the flower beards already. And stop saying it’s a “trend.” 


For anybody who’s new to this, apparently hipsters tucking all manner of plant life into their beards is a thing that’s been catching on.

Not sure why or even how, but just Google “flower beards” & you’ll see what’s going down.


Look, it’s not lost on me how dreamy these hairy, hippy bastards are. I get it. And I’m not even gay.

But I tend to turn into John Milius when it comes to this kind of ridiculousness.


If your group goes one way, I go the other. I’m pure Zen Anarchist in that way. 

In other words, “I’m just as God made me, sir.”


And this kind of bandwagon-jumping shit is why I regret when I see lemmings heading straight off the trend cliff.

Sound harsh? Alright, lemme give you a little context.

Remember pogs?


Or Tamagotchi?


Flagpole sitting?


Coca-Cola clothing?


If any of these examples are lost on you, let’s jump forward in time.





Doorknob licking?




The Tea Party movement?


All this shit seemed fairly innocent at first. And they all had a few things in common:

• They weren’t REALLY hurting anybody
• They attracted a group of brainless dullards
• They fizzled out soon enough  

"So, what’s the harm with a fad or trend or whatever the fuck flowerbearding is anyway?" you may be asking.

I don’t know. Maybe nothing.

Maybe I’m WAY off-base in my thinking.

Maybe I should just grow my beard out & do the same.

Maybe I should take weightofhersound's advice & simply fuck off.


But again,


Zen Anarchist. Not much I can do here other than that.

As far as all the photos of these flowerbeards, let me frame it up like this. If this was a bunch of piss-stained, repugnant hobos doing it,


would you be so quick to follow them off the cliff?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t bother answering. Carry on for all I care.

Just don’t come crying to me during the height of bee season.


DAY 1285

So, I’ve been tearing through this book lately.


Pretty stellar stuff. And as a rock geek, it really hits me where I live. 

It’s chock full of brilliantly written interviews with the famous 


& the infamous. 


It’s crazy to me that Nick Kent flew to America early in his career to interview Lester Bangs in order to get some insight into rock writing.


And in the end, Kent developed a writing style that outshines Bangs by miles in my eyes.


Well, I’m nearing the end now with an interview with Shane MacGowan.


Like all of the stories in this book, Kent finds a way to find a fascinating juxtaposition between the rock star & the person underneath the persona. He cuts through the bullshit & reveals what all fans want.

Well, with MacGowan, it’s obviously a dark, dark journey.


For starters, I’ll admit that I’ve never been a Pogues fan.


Just never got into them. Listened to quite a bit over the years, but it never took for some reason.


And even before reading Kent’s interview with MacGowan, I was aware of his legend as a pre-1977 punk scenester


& as the frontman for the Nipple Erectors. Hell, I even own this album.


But ultimately, even the Nips left me cold. Just didn’t do anything for me. Which is why I regret what I read in Kent’s MacGowan interview:


See that last line there? Regardless of how little love I have for MacGowan & his musical misadventures, I regret that his 20-minute acid house track never got recorded.


Sure, it probably would’ve been worse than a Happy Mondays concert,


but I don’t care. There’s something really enticing about the idea, especially if you consider the musical territory the Pogues normally tread upon. 

I don’t know. Maybe it’s for the best. Like the cult of MacGowan,


the idea of it’s probably better than the actual execution. 

D A Y  1 2 8 4

I was listening to “Swordfishtrombones” this morning. It’s probably my favorite album in the “Frank Trilogy.” Waits had just escaped the Asylum & was hanging on the Island, free to explore, bang on things & generally create something demented in his own new, twisted image. 

And whenever I listen to it, I remember the first time I listened to it. 

But more than anything, there are songs, lyrics & sounds on this album that remind me of people & places at that time in my life. Girlfriends, grandmothers, distant relatives’ houses, train tracks, decrepit parts of town - they’re all in there somehow.

Now, I’m not talking about memories associated with the album. Like “Oh, man, we made out to this song underneath that dilapidated ferris wheel” or “I used to cue up this song whenever we’d knock off those banks.”

No, no. There are parts of this album that elicit thoughts of people who have absolutely no connection to Tom Waits, “Swordfishtrombones” or anything having to do with them.

But this isn’t a new thing. These are images & remnants of human contact that have been burned onto my cerebral cortex since my very first pass at this album. And every time I listen to it, I’m right back there.

I don’t know if it’s my fascination with Tom Waits or what. I don’t think it is. Otherwise, EVERY Waits album would have this effect on me, right?

What this amounts to is that I regret that ALL the albums I love can’t reach me on a visceral, gut level like this.

Though maybe that’s a good thing. I’d be an emotional wreck every time I slapped on headphones or found myself driving around.

I’d be curious to hear what other albums effect other people like this. Please, God, don’t let it just be me.

DAY 1283

I live about 10 minutes from this fucked-up behemoth of consumerism.


The wife & I haven’t been there in a while, thankfully. However, she agreed to buy me a few belated birthday presents, so it seemed like the place to go.


The toughest part about this nutty joint is that no matter where you want to go, you’re usually stuck behind the fat, old, feeble minded


or a combination platter of all three. 

But in the end, I got some new jeans, a couple of shirts & reading material that I plan to use as fuel for three new writing projects.


Before all that though, I wound up in a place I generally try not to enter.


That’s right. No particular reason why I wound up there. Just killing time. And that’s when I remembered that they had stuff like THIS.


Yep. Vinyl. 

Seems like the last time I was in one of these places, they had a smattering of vinyl, but they seem to have gotten more skin in the game since then.


And that’s cool, I guess. However, I regret how much boss shit I found there.


Seriously? Are any of the vapid teenfucks who shop here even AWARE of The Smiths? 

SUB question: 


Even if they were, would they have the kind of cash flow to drop on The Smiths’ entire catalog?


I honestly have no idea who’s stocking this stuff, but there’s a massive disconnect going on with their demographic here.


The Numero Group’s archival sets are holy grails to me. Hell, their “Eccentric Soul" series alone is fucking gold. 


And UO was overflowing with this amazing shit.


See, “The Syl Johnson Complete Mythology" isn’t exactly something your average trollop will pick up while shopping for a gauge crochet-mix maxi skirt.


The single for “Is It Because I’m Black" alone is worth more than Urban Outfitters stock.


The fucking Upsetters? At Urban Outfitters? Really?


Soul Jazz Studio One comps? Seriously?


Okay, now you’re fucking killing me.

So basically, I walked around this hellhole like Pavlov’s dog. Even when I found out they had THIS section:


I guess what I regret most is that there are honest-to-God record stores in this town struggling to keep the lights on.


And the fact that I probably won’t be darkening UO’s door when this shit goes on clearance.


Oh, yeah. Toss out all your Imagine Dragons imports, kids. Just think. You could’ve been listening to Os Mutantes this whole time.


Way to bet on the wrong horse.


D A Y  1 2 8 2

Considering my massive boner for Tom Waits, I could regret this all on its own. But I’m delving a little bit deeper on this one.

Now if you’ve never seen Kids Incorporated, it may require a little setup. It was basically a PSA wrapped up in the guise of a bunch of kids who started a band. They’d solve their own problems, sing a few peroxided hits annnnnnnnnnnnnd credits.

So, let’s knock out the overall regrets one by one, shall we?

Like most of America, the producers of this show probably only knew this from the gigantic hit Rod had with it. That’s all fine & good, but it’s a shame that anybody who bought into it thought it was all Rod.

Compare Rod & Tom’s version to this thing. It’s a huge divide. There’s something inherently sorrowful about the original & even the cover. But THIS? Like everything on KI, it’s too peppy & upbeat for me.

If you took “Downtown Train" off the album, you wouldn’t hear me crying about it. Nothing against the song, but it’s my least favorite. I dig “Rain Dogs.” A LOT. But I’d honestly rank it third in the trilogy. 

Never watched “How I Met Your Mother,” but I just found out Everything But The Girl covered this song on the series finale. And I regret every single comment affiliated with this YouTube clip

Okay, all done.

Basically, I could’ve just said I regretted that nobody involved in Kids Incorporated could appreciate Tom Waits, but when it comes to that dude, I find myself going WAY too granular.

If you’re a Waits fan, you understand.

DAY 1281

At the age of 13, I found myself in a bit of a quandary.


(This isn’t me, BTW.)

I felt like I was at that weird age, where I should shirk every kid habit I had & start being an adult.

At 13-fucking-years-old.


(Still not me.)

No idea why I thought this way at that age. I sure as hell didn’t ACT older. But I figured things like cartoons, novelty records, comics & action figures were too babyish for me.


I figured I was heading into 6th grade & a new school with no friends, so it was as good a time as any to reinvent myself. 


Yeah, right.

It didn’t really work out the way I expected. Besides being chastised for wearing my new Vans without socks,


(You guessed it. Not me either.)

I didn’t feel any different once I moved into this new world. Which meant that when stuff like THIS started appearing,


I was back at a crossroads. I’d already slipped back into my old habits when a particular Marvel title hit the stands.


So, I saw no need to really desert my childhood or my geeky ways.


Needless to say, most of the self-imposed rules fell by the wayside. Except for one aspect.

Those Goddamned toys.


By the time I’d collected a few of those Masters Of The Universe figures, they’d turned into a symbol of my shame spiral.

Maybe it was the overly muscly way they were built. I mean, I’d never had this problem with Star Wars figures.


But mostly it was because I’d made my mind up that I was just too old for toys. And ultimately, the He-Man guilt became too much for me, so I stopped collecting & sold them at a garage sale.


Or maybe I gave them to one of my younger cousins. I don’t know. The point is, I’d made my peace with getting rid of them.

Fast-forward to today’s regret. I don’t think I was ever aware of the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons figures until today.


I have a vague recollection of THIS guy,


but this whole set of goofy bastards is completely new to me.


Maybe I missed out on this because I’d had a bad experience with D&D, but this shit was TOTALLY under my radar.


I would’ve bought the SHIT out of something like THIS.


Or even THIS.


So, there we are. Once again, I regret not owning a set of toys from my childhood.


Fuck YOU, asshole.

D A Y  1 2 8 0

Let’s travel back to 1987. Hip-hop had been around for quite awhile, but if you were a white kid in the South, this shit wasn’t exactly mainstream. 

The only “rap” I’d been exposed to at that point was fairly limited:

• My cousin Clint could perform “Rapper’s Delight" in its entirety
• A friend had made me a tape of Run-DMC’s “King Of Rock”
• I’d seen “Breakin’” & “Breakin’ 2" in the theaters*
• I owned The Fat Boys’ self-titled album via Columbia House
Whodini’s “Escape” was on serious rotation in my tape deck
• I heard “The 2 Live Crew Is What We Are" in a friend’s car 
• I was only vaguely aware of Beastie Boys because of MTV

Again, this was how a white kid in Roebuck viewed this burgeoning subculture. Around 1987, I was still infatuated with Pink Floyd too much to care about any other music. And somehow I liked it that way.

Then “Dragnet” came out & MTV played this goofy video on regular rotation. 

Sure, this is white culture’s take on what rap was supposed to sound like. But to my untrained ears, I couldn’t honestly tell the difference. PLUS, it had Aykroyd in it. How could rap beat THAT?

Well, the point is that I regret still knowing every stupid lyric to this song. But more than that, I regret that I latched onto this instead of ACTUAL hip-hop music that was out that year. For example:

• ERIC B. & RAKIM “Paid In Full
• PUBLIC ENEMY “Yo! Bum Rush The Show”
• LL COOL J “Bad: Bigger & Deffer”
• SCHOOLY D “Saturday Night - The Album”
• ICE T “Rhyme Pays”
• MC SHAN “Down By Law”

Damn shame, that’s all.

"You’re ready for the SLAMMAH’."

* “Electric Boogaloo.”