In the height of nostalgia, I decided to travel back in time this morning. Back to the magical year of 1993; during a place in time that was yet unmarred by the influx of the Internet. Clinton was inagurated, cassettes were still being utilized, and offered as an alternative to a CD; the Pixies disbanded while Kurt Cobain was still singing in the midst of his incomprehensible, drug-addled slurs. A year before Woodstock 1994, and the impending influx of Green Day’s Dookie album. (Being the year that they signed onto Reprise!) All the while, being nestled within the comforting embrace of my Super Nintendo; an entity in a now nicotine-yellow plastic box that is nothing more than a deadened shell of memories which once were. Now, to be a bastard preteen in the upswing of the later-early 90’s in the middle of the Ozarks, this brings only a few options in a childhood: The aforementioned Super Nintendo, scrambling the cable converter box to watch a hint of nipples on Cinemax, and interludes of Mike Malibu during afternoon cartoons.

The terrifying thing about the Internet, is that to talk about these things would warrant odd looks, awkward silences, and issue nothing short of a retort of an obligatory “…k.” - and I found myself wondering what happened to that guy that used to appear between cartoons in the Ozarks in 1993, and why would I give a shit? Lo and behold; the Google knows everything, and therefore, so do I. Which is why I will impart you with a glimpse of what was on the tiny little television in my bedroom, while I wasn’t constructing Lego forts out of a cat post.

Ice cream, pizza, and Discovery Zone! Fuck yes!

With Super Smash TV. Fuck yes.

The sheer fact that these things have been posted on YouTube, makes me terrified knowing that there were some other inherent failures which lingered in Springfield during 1993, watching that same nonsense to the degree of reminiscing about it; as if the notion of my self-worth wasn’t already driven into the ground. It was probably Mike Malibu himself; facepalming while showing his post-graduate kids what he used to do sixteen years ago. Sometimes, some things are better left unmentioned and otherwise untouched. Now get the fuck out of my time capsule.