We've got your Saturday covered

Was going to do a big thing on the drug reference richness that is Sid and Marty Krofft (to paraphrase George Carlin, they put the extra f in there just to piss 'em off). But I really don't have the time, so here's a quick hit, so to speak, combining characters from the Saturday morning titan H.R. Pufnstuf (I'm craving brownies just typing the name) and the members of the Bay City Rollers (S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y...NIGHT!)Dunno what this is from, and it's a mystery as to why either of them thought the other would be a particular boost; Pufnstuf had faded away by the time the Rollers (who supposedly got their name by throwing a dart at a map and hitting Bay City, Mich.) hit around 1975-76.

Go round and round, go round and round

Today, a rambling look at roller derby, which was like drive-ins as a cultural phenomenon of rapidly suburbanizing and affluent America. Drive-ins lasted a bit longer, as the two main leagues petered out by about 1974. This happening to the International Roller Derby League is not surprising in light of the fact that the guy doing this interview, Jerry Seltzer, was the league owner. With the hairstyle and pot belly of someone heading to the swinging singles bar in his Fiat with the top down. Maybe having the top down explains how his hair got that way. Here, he's interviewing Charlie O'Connell of the Bay Area Bombers and Ronnie Robinson of the Midwest Pioneers to set up their match race. O'Connell has a major case of helmet hair, and Robinson has a major case of drowsiness. One question: Each team had about 16 players (8 men, 8 women). Why, then, is O'Connell No. 40 and Robinson No. 58? All this from the sports Mecca of Hammond, Ind.



That O'Connell guy, he's good, by the way. He takes care of business here against the New York Chiefs, which used to be an even quicker sellout at Madison Square Garden than WWWF wrestling (back when Jessie McMahon ran the show). And their uniforms gave them big-looking butts.



And here is perhaps the main icon of old-school roller derby, Anne Calvello (No. 13 for the Red Devils, whose team name on the back had to have been borrowed from a bowling league). She was in various incarnations of the sports for more than 50 years and died in the last year.



Now on the West Coast, the main team was the Los Angeles Thunderbirds, who were in a league that made less of a pretense of making play appear real (in any league, it was as scripted as pro wrestling). Ralphie Valladeres was the legend of that circuit, and was even part of that god-awful RollerGames show about a decade ago. And Ronnie Rains was "the Psycho."



And before it faded into less cultural relevance, roller derby even got the Hollywood treatment.




Nowadays, the main roller derby gimmick is grrrrl power, with games made up of women with really punny names. A Lilith Fair for these times, perhaps.

Man, how times change, Part 1

This will be an occasional feature here, in which I will unearth (OK, merely search YouTube for) blasts from the past that kinda contrast with the present.

Before Mike Farrell was Dr. B.J. Hunnicut, and before he became a symbol of causes and political correctness, he was a shill for cancer sticks. In this 1970 ad, back when Big Tobacco could still advertise on TV, he and some very pretty woman (man, she should have gone further than Farrell) sail on a boat to promote Chesterfield 101s. That's an odd size; I've heard of 100s and 120s, but 101? He seems like a dreamboat up until the end, when he hogged the coupon. Do they still have coupons with packs of cigarettes? And is Chesterfield still around?

Hey, Dude

Long before Kenny Rogers made a lot of mediocre country music, injected a load of Botox and created Kramer's favorite chicken, he was a member of a group called the First Edition that kind of tried a few styles to see what worked in the marketplace. Here is perhaps their best-known effort, complete with far-out hippy-dippy lighting effects. So, like, abide.



This was on The Smothers Brothers Show on CBS. It was an edgy move at the time by CBS to give these topical comedians their own show. Their political humor, which Bill Maher would snicker at for its mildness, made the Tiffany Network too nervous, and it was soon gone despite decent ratings. NBC added women in bikinis to edgy humor, and made it work with Laugh-In.

So that's why the Beatles took a step back from public life

Hullabaloo was a prime-time music show on NBC from 1965-66 that tried to latch onto that groovy youth vibe while it was still apple-cheeked and carefree (that is to say, before the long hair and stuff like pot, Vietnam and the urban riots made youth a lot angrier and maverick-ier). And what says young and new and irreverent more than Jerry Lewis, huh? Actually, Jerry was trying to puff the rock-band aspirations of his son Gary. In truth, Gary had little talent and the producers of Gary Lewis and the Playboys vinyls did their best to be sure that Gary's contributions were hardly to be heard.

And you'll hear why. To latch onto the groovy youth vibe, going with the Beatles was a good idea then. Well, almost always. The show decided to open with Jerry and Gary doing a duet on Help. More like Yelp. Not even Goldie Hawn's presence as a Hullabaloo girl could save the day.



Some more modern music critics were moved to comment on this performance:



"Yo yo, checkitoutcheckitout! Wow, man...Jerry Lewis, big star. But guess what, this just wasn't a good song for you. And Gary, I think you were a liiitle pitchy in parts. Just not feeling it, dog.







"This was just so beautiful, father and son coming together. It wasn't the best effort ever, but god bless your heart, the love came through."



"What bloody planet are you on, Paww-la? That was god-awful, karaoke dreck. Not one redeeming quality about it. I'll bet the French loved it, though."




"Fuck off, Simon!"

Happy, Q?

Just a quick note to my first and only commenter that an acceptable Judy in Disguise has been found. Thanks for the nice note, but....still a one-hit wonder.

Stoned wash denim

Pity the poor, surely confused kid from this stop-motion Levi's commercial of the mid-70s. He had to wonder why the crew would take long "smoke breaks" in the trailer and come back out with giggles, brownie crumbs on the lips, and red eyes. The old lady was also probably toking up. For the glaucoma, of course. Heck, they were probably blowing power hits into the dog's mouth. The boy's is now either a n'er-do-well in constant need of therapy, or the president of NORML.



0:04--"Waah, I got too close to the damn trailer during smoke break!"
0:10--With the cold look of Dexter on his face, he vows to get the wardrobe lady who made him wear that shirt.
0:12-0:14--Hey, pedophiles buy jeans for their kids, too! Gotta tap whatever market you can.
0:18--With the jacket she provided him, the wardrobe lady faces a slow death.
0:21--The boy beats the dog to the tree.
0:25--The floating rock (fall, dammit, fall) looks like a cross between a baboon head and a ram head.
0:28--Tree at last!
0:34--Good thing, cos that fire hydrant can book!
0:36--And dirt-glide as well as the boy and the dog.
0:41--"Better grab this before the key grip tries to grind it up and put it in his bong!"
0:46--OK, now he's going to come after her family, too.
0:48--Chris Hanson just had the hair stand up on the back of his neck and doesn't know why.
0:52--"Oh, how sweet! Say, are there any brownies left?"
0:56--"Oh really? Shit, let's book!"