Video-A-Go-Go-Away XII

Iron Feather Journal Presents:

Commodore 64 Cracker Screens Video

100+ minutes, audio + video =
of cracker intro screens, phreak toolz and demos
from the C-64 underground of 1980's and early 90's

Produced by Towne Club (c)2003 by Iron Feather
Iron Feather Journal POB 1905, Boulder, Colorado, 80306

www.ironfeather.com
www.globalgoodys.com

Video-A-Go-Go-Away XI

Cigarette Commercials
from the Golden Age of Television

Something Weird Video

VHS

Synopsis

Cigarette Commercials from the Golden Age of Television

There was a time when it was A-o.k. to have cigarette advertising on television, and here's some of those old commercials that should satisfy that nicotine craving for at least an hour!

You get these brands and many more: Old Gold, Muriel, Marlboro, Kool, Camels, Kents, Winstons, Newports, Tareytons, & Salems. #5236

Package, Design, Summary 1996
Something Weird Video
All Rights Reserved
Recorded in SP mode on high-quality tape
For a complete catalog send $5 to:
SWV CATALOG
PO Box 33664 Seattle, WA 98133
Please state with signature that you are 18 or older!

7 60513 52363 1

Video-A-Go-Go-Away X

Something Weird Video

Teen-Age Schlock Trailers

#14

"Previews of coming attractions"

VHS

Rock All Night
The Cool and the Crazy
Hot Car Girl
Young and Wild
Hot Rod Gang
High School Hellcats
Go, Johnny, Go!
Manbait
Because They're Young
The Choppers
Ride the Wild Surf
Racing Fever
Having a Wild Weekend
Ferry Cross the Mersey
Go-Go Mania
Beach Ball
Winter A-Go-Go
Teenage Gang Debs
Girls on the Beach
Riot on Sunset Strip
Wild in the Streets
The Love-Ins
Let It Be
Woodstock

Reform School
Hey, Let's Twist!
Born Reckless
Senior Prom
Rockabilly Baby
Cry Baby Killer
Going Steady
Live Fast, Die Young
Unwed Mother
Life Begins at 17
Blackboard Jungle
Joy Ride
Sorority Girl
Teen-Age Monster
Speed Crazy
Too Soon to Love
Beatniks
Gidget
Beach Party
Bikini Beach
Muscle Beach Party
Pajama Party
Ski Party
How to Stuff a Wild Bikini
Dragstrip Girl

Package, Design, Summary 1996
Something Weird Video
All Rights Reserved
Recorded in SP mode on high-quality tape
For a complete catalog send $5 to:
SWV CATALOG
PO Box 33664 Seattle, WA 98133
Please state with signature that you are 18 or older!

7 6051 3 49303 3

The Blessed Land

This was written while in sixth grade, for a class. I think my teacher was named Miss Lindl. Her grading notes written in the margins include "Neatly done," "good word" (for my use of "capitulating"), and "Interesting ideas." The original paragraph breaks have been maintained.

Daimon unsheathed his sword as the kobold approached. A kobold is a fur-covered human with a dog's head. His sword gleamed in the autumn's twilight, but the kobold showed no sign of capitulating. The kobold barked an unknown word and two others appeared. Daimon knew that kobolds were fierce, unmerciful fighters who, after defeating their enemy, promptly ate it. The kobold's approached. Daimon slashed at the one nearest him separating a drooling tongue from its owner. The kobold yelped spitting blood from its mouth. The other kobolds looked at their companion. Was there a hint of fright in their eyes? Yes, there was. Daimon took this chance and attacked the others. He leaped high up in the air slashing downward with his sword. Upward, downward, soon two kobolds lay on the soil-covered ground with blood streaming from their heads. The last one looked at Daimon in panic and quickly ran away.

Daimon stood there for a moment, catching his breath. Soon, he washed himself off in a nearby stream. As he looked up he saw a hint of smoke just above the treeline. He gathered up his weapons and equipment. As he walked through the forest the hint of smoke grew. Daimon walked into a clearing. There was a crude hut made of branches. The roof was pine branches covered with clay for waterproofing. Out of a primitive chimney ran a stream of oddly colored smoke. On the side of the hut was a humongous pile of wood. A door was slightly ajar letting a strong voice's singling be heard. Here is what Daimon heard.

Across the valleys, green and wide.
Across the forests, tall and proud.
Across the oceans, blue and grand.
Lies the blessed land.
Yes, the blessed land.

Promised to us long ago.
By the roaming gods who know.
What it is like to go.
To the blessed land.
Yes, the blessed land.

But, now the great ones, they are dead.
All we need is a dragon's head.
To open up the doorway.
To the blessed land.
Yes, the blessed land.

Finally the song ended. The voice from inside the cabin said, "What's that lad? You think someone's come a-waiting? Well, by all means, go welcome our guest!"

Daimon was very much surprised when the blink dog appeared. A blink dog is a dog who can teleport from one place to another. Daimon was very much enthralled by the singing, but his train of thought was totally disrupted when the blasted dog appeared in front of him. As Daimon drew his sword the dog just flashed to somewhere else! Daimon was quite perturbed. He sheathed his sword as a kindly old man appeared in the doorway. "Yo ho! Me laddie's greeted you! Well, come in, come in." Daimon dumbly stumbled forward. Soon he was in the old man's hut. On one wall was a cupboard. On teh other wall was a cane table with a candle on it. Next to that was a bed. Across the room was a table with two chairs at it. "Sit down!" Daimon did. "What's your name?"

"Uhhh... my name is Daimon. Who are you?"

"My name is Alexander. I am a member of the Bear clan, but they banished me because I dabbled in magic and the unknown."

"Well, uh... Alexander, I'm just looking for my father and mother."

"What happened to them lad?"

"Well, last year, our village's harvest was going very poorly. Many months had gone without rain. Our elders blamed the drought on Darkfox, the evil weather wizard. The council held a vote to see who would venture to his castle and defeat Darkfox. My father was chosen. My mother insisted she went with him. They left me with the herbist, Leif Johnson, so someone would take care of me. In April of this year, I decided to go look for my parents."

"Well, you may stay for the night with me. I'm sure me laddie won't mind. Will ye?" He laid his hand on the dog's head. The dog blinked out and appeared on Daimon's lap. Daimon fell backwards surprised. "Ha, ha. Well. Would ye care for a bite to eat?" Daimon nodded. The man got up and walked to the cupboard. He brought back a wooden bowl filled with stew. "Just cooked it before ye came." He set it down on the table in front of Daimon. In moments Daimon had finished the heavily spiced stew.

"Alexander, what was the 'blessed land' you were singing of?"

"My homeworld."

"What do you mean?"

"Many centuries ago, my clan lived in a world Greyland. Greyland is on a different plane than this world. Our oracles told me that very powerful wizards were having a war down on this plane. Our world was constantly falling apart and changing because of their magic. Our most powerful magic-user's opened up a drift in time, or a portal, to your plane. We came through to here to try to stop the are. After the war the portal was destroyed."

"Why?"

"Well, an evil wizard named Blackbird created an evil land where the terrain is ever changing. You see, his land is where our portal was."

"Oh, what's a plane?"

"You see, our universe has many planes, or levels of existence. The higher a plane is the [more] advanced its culture and people are. The lower, the less."

"Where are we located?"

"Somewhere in the middle."

"Why did your clan banish you?"

"They're not my original family, really. As we went through the portal, I was thrown through a mindwall. A mindwall is a wall built of mental energy. It sent me to a primitive part of your world."

"I see. How far are we from the top plane?"

"This world is fifth down."

"How many are there in all?"

"There are nine."

"Oh. I see," Daimon said. "Thank you for the stew, it was very good."

"Your welcome." Alexander picked up the bowl and walked over to a basin of water. Soon he had rinsed it. "Well, it's getting dark, we should build the fire."

"I'll go get the wood for you." Daimon walked out and went over to the wood pile. He heard a growling noise. Then there was a crackling of leaves. He looked in front of him and saw a huge monstrosity rushing him. "It's an owlbear!" he yelled. He drew his sword and slashed at the creature. His sword bounced off its hide. The owlbear tackled him and Daimon hit his head against a log. Blackness overcame him.

***

Daimon woke up to find himself in a bed. He sat up and pain surged through his body. He fell back with a groan. "What happened?"

"Don't try to speak. I heard your yell and ran out to find an owlbear on top of you. I scared him away and dressed up your shoulder."

"What happened to my shoulder?" He touched it and groaned.

"Don't touch it yet, Daimon. The owlbear ripped it up."

"How'd you scare it?"

"I told you I dabbled in magic. I just created a phantasmal force."

"Oh." Daimon's vision started getting blurry.

"You're delerious. Close your eyes and relax." Soon Daimon was asleep. Alexander walked over to a chest by the table and opened it. He pulled out a book and opened it. He started reading aloud. A glow surrounded him. In a moment he was gone and a small, winged cat appeared in his place. The cat opened the door and sunlight streamed in. It spread its wings and flew away. The door closed silently behind him.

The hilly terrain passed quickly under Alexander. The trees were a dark green blur. The cat, Alexander, sniffed the air and changed its course slightly. Soon, the cat was flying over a large lake. Suddenly, the cat's wings stopped flapping. There was a flash and a screaming Alexander, plunged into the icy water.

A canoe left the shore. A frightened Indian paddled quickly out towards where Alexanger fell. He grabbed a branch and fished around in the water. In a minute a drenched man lay panting in the canoe. The Indian paddled into shore, and ran into a hut. The Indian, and another man came outside. They picked up and carried Alexander into the hut.

[***]

Daimon woke up and glanced around. Where was Alexander? He got up and ran outside. He looked around the hut. He ran out into the forest. He heard a twig snap. Daimon whirled around to have a wooden club brought down on top of his head. Daimon blacked out.

[***]

Alexander cam to to find himself in a very dark place. Pain surged through his mind. He had flown into a mindwall! Impossible! They only appeared in between planes he had thought. Someone must have built it up for a special purpose. He must find out what it is! He heard a groan. He stumbled through the darkness. He bumped into something. A cot? Yes! There's a man laying on it. Alexander lit a piece of tinder. The light shone on the man's face. It was Daimon.

Alexander made sure he had everything that he had taken from his hut. He shook Daimon. Daimon groaned and rolled over. Alexander slapped Daimon. Daimon sat up and looked around panicing. He saw Alexander and said, "What happened?"

"It seems you were hit on thead my friend."

"Why did you leave?"

"I had an errand to run. I flew into a mindwall and ended up here."

"Flew?"

"I have many different bodies."

"I see. Ouch!" Daimon rubbed his head and lay back down. Alexander walked around looking for a fireplace. He found one and lit a small fire. The fire's glow produced enough light for reading so he got out his spell book. He started studying some spells.

[***]

The Indian guard was quite mad. He was asking a girl to marry him when the chief came up and asked him to go keep watch on two stupid prisoners! He stomped over to the hut and noticed that inside there was a fire going. He opened the door and walked in. No sign of the prisoners. Could they have escaped? Couldn't have. He turned around to walk out. A silvery blade sliced through the air. He never knew what hit him.

Alexander and Daimon crept out of the hut and ran toward the woods. A shower of arrows flew through the air. An Indian's shout could be heard above the din of evasion and pursuit. The Indians let the two run on. No use chasing them.

"Boy!" Daimon panted. "Are they still chasing us?"

"I don't... think so," Alexander said as he ran. "Let's stop at the next clearing." They kept on running until they came to a huge open area. "Whew!"

"That was close."

"Yeah. Oh my."

"Let's rest awhile."

"Good idea," Alexander said. The two men lay down on the soft grass. Soon, both were asleep.

A few hours later they awoke. It was dark out and the forest's night noises filled the air. "Let's start a fire," Alexander said.

"No the Indians'll see it. We better go back to your hut."

"Okay." The two men started walking through the forest. After many hours of walking Alexander said, "It seems that we're not going in the correct direction. I[t] seems like the path keeps changing to a different direction after we pass over it!"

"Yes, wemust have ran off in the wrong direction. Let's just walk over this hill and then look around."

"Okay." They climbed quickly to the top of the hill. On the horizon they could see the crumbling remains of a once majestic castle. The rising sun shone on the ruins. Shadows played with the men's eyes, distorting the true shapes of the castle. "Daimon, if I remember correctly, this is the ancient ruin of Castle Erorn. Millenia ago, the great wizards created this as a gateway to different planes."

"How could they do that?"

"You see, they built a similar castle on every plane of existance. The wizards then blessed every castle at the same time. Therefore a magic portal was crated."

"Let's go look around." Daimon started walking down the hill.

"Watch out for the guardian!"

"What?" A screech filled the air. A leathery flap of wings accompanied it. Daimon looked up to see a gargoyle swooping down toward him. He drew his sword.

"Don't let your eyes look at the beast!"

"What?" Daimon turned around. All he saw was the gargoyle's gleaming eyes. A violent sensation swept through Daimon's body. He had turned to stone. Alexander grabbed his dagger from the folds of his robe. The gargoyle's claws raked his flesh, ripping the flesh to shreds. Alexander fell down panting. The gargoyle ripped open his throat and flew off.

Minutes later a beautiful woman appeared in the doorway of the ruins. Daimon's mother wept.

Speech

This was probably written around the same time as the previous post. The original paragraph breaks have been maintained. "Wagner Bros." is a reference to a grade school friend, Alan Wagner. Other friends from the time are mentioned by name. Alan and I used to draw at school together. I actually drew issues of some of the comic books mentioned.

Hello, I am Heath Row; Editor of "Exciting Comics Company." Have you ever read a "Wagner Bros." comic? Most people haven't. I admit, I have. But I threw it away after I finished the first page. But my company's comic books are great. They are printed on high-class quality "Xerox" paper. They are also colored. They star heroes like "Blooperman," "Laserman," etc. But, who ever heard of "Hose-nose the Kleenex king"? Who ever read a comic book called "The American Aardvarks vs. The German Gerbils"? I haven't. Also, he wants companies like "Marvel," "D.C.," and "Whitman" to go out of business! I think those three companies are the best, next to me, of course. Also, my company features artists such as Eric Hendreksin, Andy Nelson and me. But, his artists are him, him, and him. Also, his company is called "Wagner Bros." I'm surprised he hasn't gotten sued by "Warner Bros." yet. But, my company's name is original.

His comic books cost 60c while mine cost $1.25. I mean, 60c doesn't make his comics sound very good. But $1.25 makes my comics sound great, superb, fantastic! Usually people buy something because it costs more. I mean, if "Brand F" cost $2.00 and "Brand A" cost $10.00. The person'd probably buy "Brand A" because they figure it's better quality. Also, my comics are sold at drug stores while his are sold at laundrymats! Who'd buy a comic at a laundrymat?

He once said, "Give me comic books or give me rocks!" Even though they gave him rocks he was brave. Bah! He already had rocks in his head. But his comics are okay. At least he doesn't publish parodies of my comics. Well, comic book readers of America; this is is why I think you should vote for me as "Comic Book Editor Of the Century." Thank you.

Alan, if you somehow come across this, email me. I'm curious what you're up to!

Halloween Night

I wrote this story around 1983, when I was 10 years old. I would have been in fourth grade. Paragraph breaks have been added to ease reading.

Beware, for tomorrow is October 31st. Halloween night, the worst night of the year! Halloween is a time of zombies, ghosts, and last, but not least, the living dead. Now that you know what to watch out for, let's zap to October 31st. There now, here we are. Sit back, get comfortable, and keep calm, if you can! Ohhhhha-ha-ha-ha!

***

It was October 31st, 1983. It was about 9:04 p.m. My mother had just told me to go to bed. But, I couldn't sleep. I got out of bed and walked towards my closet. I opened it, and stepped in. I turned around and shut the closet door. I sat down on the closet floor and closed my eyes. In a few minutes, I was asleep.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a room unlike any other room I'd seen but quite familiar. The room had one window, one door, one closet, and a table with a lamp, pad of paper and a pen. I walked over toward the window and tried to open it. It opened easily enough, but, when the window was open fully, the room lit up so bright I had to close my eyes. I slammed the window shut, and the light began to dim. I started to walk toward the door. As I heard a loud click, I started running toward the door. It had locked.

I ran toward the table and turned on the lamp. I wrote on the pad, "Help! I am being held prisoner in a room with one window." I put the pen down and picked up the letter. I folded it over as I walked towards the window. I opened it just enough to slip the paper through and shut it before the light got too bright.

I walked over to the corner of the room and waited for something to happen. In a few minutes nothing had happened so I sat down to rest awhile. As I was falling asleep, I was awakened by the sound of wood splintering or splitting. I looked toward the closet to see a bald man with a pale face, bloodshot eyes, and clothing torn to shreds. The zombie was walking toward me with his arms outstretched, ready to strangle me.

I ran to the other side of the room while the zombie said, "You try to escape your fate. You don't like me." The zombie turned around and started walking toward me again. It got closer and closer. Just as it grabbed at my throat, I ducked and ran through his legs toward the window. I stood, back to the window as the zombie screamed and started running toward me. Just as it reached my throat, I ducked and the zombie flew through the window.

After a few minutes of silence the door swung open. I walked slowly toward the door suspecting a trick. As I got to the door, I looked cautiously out and around. Outside the door was a hall that looked like it went on forever. At the end of the hall was a door. I stood looking at the door, wondering how long it would take me to walk down the hall.

I started to run down the hall. I got to the other door in at least a few seconds. I leaned against the door and thought about the hall for a few seconds. Before I turned around the door swung open, and I fell into the room. As I hit the floor, the door slammed shut and clicked loudly. I got up, dusted myself off and looked around the room.

Again there was 1 window, 1 door, 1 closet, but instead of a table in the center there was a bed with a pillow, a sheet, and a blanket on it. I walked over to the closet and opened it hoping not to find a zombie ready to strangle me.

Relieved that I hadn't found anything, I locked and shut the closet door. As I walked over to the bed, I took off my shirt and threw it across the room. When I got to the bed, I took off a candle out of my pocket and placed it on the bed board in case I needed some light. Then I got in bed and dosed off.

I was awakened by the squeak of a door opening. I struck a match and lit the candle. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and looked around the room again. The window slowly opened by itself. A gust of wind blew through the window and snuffed my candle out. I jumped up and stood on the bed looking around frantically.

At the foot of the bed I saw someone or something materialize out of nothing. The thing had a face badly burned and it was swinging an ax at the air. "Wh-who are you? Wh-what are you doing here?" I asked it frantically. The thing groaned back, "I-i am h-here to k-kill you dor the p-p-pain you have c-caused me."

The thing swung its ax at me. I jumped and placed a drop kick at the thing's chin. The thing materialized and laughed like a maniac. I felt the ax singe a few of my hairs. I jumped from the bed and ran towards the closet. I opened the closet and waited. I felt the thing run at me. I dodged and shut the closet door. Then I locked it. I ran over to the door as the creature screamed, "Noooooooooo!" I opened the door and ran down the hall.

This time the hall looked short but was very long. The hall was very damp as if it were underground. At the end of the hall was a spiral staircase. Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, I saw a bookcase. I walked up to the bookcase and took out a book. The bookcase swung open like a door. Behind the bookcase was a dimly lit staircase. I dropped the book and started to walk down the staircase.

About halfway down the staircase, there was a twelve foot gap, and then more stairs. I backed up a few stairs, then I started to run down the stairs. At the bottom of the first section of stairs, I jumped, hoping to hurdle the great chasm. But, to my surprise I didn't even make it halfway across.

I fell round and down, round and down. Then I hit something. Soon, I blacked out. When I regained consciousness, I saw that I had fallen in a mud puddle. I stood up and looked around. I looked like I was in a cemetary. It was raining and it was very foggy. The fog, rain, and shadows made the gravestones look like monsters. I heard a noise like leaves rustling under someone's feet. I turned around to see a man in torn clothing walking towards me.

He looked alive, but yet quite dead. I turned around and ran into another. I fell down, but I got back up and ran to the side. I ran into another, fell backwards, bumped into another, and fell forwards into a mud puddle. They looked at me with eyes full of hatred and moaned. I sat there and covered my eyes with my hands waiting for them to get it over with.

The next thing I knew I was in my closet screaming. I got up, walked out of my closet and turned on a light. In my hand was a piece of paper folded over saying, "Help! I am being held prisoner in a room with one window." It was all a dream, or was it?

***

Pretty scary story, eh? Oh, before you leave, Happy Halloween! Ohhhhha-ha-ha-ha!

Booknook Perhapsness

When LibraryThing launched, I signed up, but did nothing. When Shelfari launched, I did the same. When Goodreads launched, I did more, and I'm trying to figure out why.

It might have been because a friend who'd added a lot of books invited me to Goodreads, so when I joined, I added a handful, too. For the others, I was friendless and didn't have that inspiration or model to follow. Now, I have a couple of friends in Shelfari, but no books. And I have one friend who actively used LibraryThing, but no books.

I've put my energy into Goodreads. This introduces a quandary -- and a possible solution.

When this happens, this happens a lot. And in this age of Web 2.0 creativity, the chances of being introduced to similar services in short order increases. What to do? As things are, we must choose. Which platform do we choose? Why? Is it because of how many friends we have there? How many books we've listed? Personal preferences for the features and functions?

The possible solution might be something akin to the Friend of a Friend project. Just as we're struggling with how to keep our social networking service friends lists consistent -- which, honestly, I don't think is all important, we might want to keep our other shared lists consistent.

In the case of books, versus friends, I think the need might be stronger. I haven't taken the time to look into whether the three bookshelf management tools I've mentioned offer list export and import options. If they don't they should. That begs the idea of list consistency so exports and imports can include similar data fields and, therefore, consistency.

Are switching costs so high -- or value of service exclusivity so high -- that this is a bad idea? I don't think so. If I could export and import my lists at will, I'd maintain all services equally. I'd probably, as I suggested tonight to my friend who's a LibraryThing fiend, maintain one predominately and consistently... and then update the others occasionally. There's little downside to anyone following this approach, just upside.

Is anyone working on this? Does anyone else perceive it to be a problem and opportunity? Which one of these services do you use?

Discuss.

Today (A Song Fragment)

I find this handwritten lyric sheet in an old milk crate of zines, comics, and personal papers. The Anchormen never finished or performed this song.

I wake up in the morning
and I go right back to bed
I look into the mirror
and I look like living dead

I don't even want to go outside
I just want to stay inside today
Inside today x3

I'm sitting at the table
and looking at the bowl
It's full of Frankenberry
But I'm feeling kind of full

I don't even, even want to eat
I'm too full of myself and me
Myself today x3

Why oh why -- why is everything
Why oh why -- against me
Why oh why -- I don't know
Why oh why -- I've got nowhere to go
Nowhere to go x3

I look outside the window
and I see you on the street
You've got my necklace on
And you're in your stocking feet

But I don't really, really miss your ???
I've got a bad case of the miss you blues today
Miss you today x3

I hear the doorbell ring
ringing loud and clear
my heart begins its singing
my mind introduces fear

I don't know why, why I think it's you
But I hope that, hope that it's true today
It's true today x3

CHORUS

And now you're in my kitchen
We're cooking up a storm
I think it's pretty bitchen
??? my heart is fiery warm

I don't know if we're missing any spice
But I think that, that it's nice today
It's nice today x3

A Poem for Sunday

Afternoon air smells of smoke
Burning rubber, tarpaulins
If cottonwood were ashy snow
Then dish-filled sinks would crust with ice
New leaves pale, green, and sky hangs gouached
While Bobbie Gentry sings her songs

Event-O-Dex XXXIII

Wednesday, July 11: Bernardine Dohrn, "Sing a Battle Song: The Revolutionary Poetry, Statements, and Communiques of the Weather Underground" reading, 7 p.m., Bluestockings, 172 Allen St., New York. This book collects the three complete and unedited publications produced by the Weather Underground during their most active period.

Thursday, July 12: Patton Oswalt, 8 p.m., Sound Fix, Brooklyn. From the invite: "The famed funnyman ... makes his ONLY New York appearance of this tour, for his official album release show."

Friday, July 13: "Lenin For Your Library?" book launch and discussion, 7 p.m., Orchard, 47 Orchard St., New York. From the invite: "The project Lenin For Your Library? began in Spring 2005 when Yevgeniy Fiks sent one hundred copies of Imperialism the Highest Stage of Capitalism by V.I. Lenin to the addresses of major global corporations (Gap, Coca-Cola, General Electric, and IBM among many others) with an enclosed letter, offering the book as a donation to the corporate library. Out of one hundred copies sent, fourteen were acknowledged with "thank you" letters. Seventeen were returned with letters stating various reasons for rejection (focus of library collection, policy of not accepting gifts or donations from private individuals, est.). The fate of the remaining sixty-nine copies remains unknown. ... The original 31 letters received from the corporations will be on display at Orchard during the event."

Sunday, July 22: Peter Kuper and Kevin Pyle reading, 7 p.m., Bluestockings, 172 Allen St., New York. World War 3 Illustrated co-editors unveil their latest graphic novels, "Stop Forgetting to Remember" and "Blindspot."

Video-A-Go-Go-Away IX

Fast Company Videos

1. Out Takes
RealTime New Orleans
December 1998

2. Fast Company
Holiday Video
December 2000

3. Fast Talk

4. Fast Company Presents Jim Collins Live: Good to Great

"Imagine you have three circles, and your task is to find the intersection of all three. One circle is what you are absolutely passionate about. The second is those things you were genetically encoded to do. The third is what people will pay you to do. The secret, then, is to find the intersection of all three." -- Jim Collins

"Can that which is good or mediocre ever change itself to become great?" -- Jim Collins, RealTime Phoenix

"To me, entrepreneurship is about carving a path that is so idiosyncratically you that it fits you like a glove." -- Jim Collins, RealTime Phoenix

To continue the conversation, go to www.fastcompany.com/fasttalk/goodtogreat
For more information on RealTime and other Fast Company events, visit www.fastcompany.com/live
To order additional copies, visit www.fastcompany.com/store

The following is a presentation given by Jim Collins at RealTime Phoenix on October 31, 2000. Jim Collins operates a management-research laboratory in Boulder, Colorado and is coauthor of "Built to Last: Successful Habits of Visionary Companies." His new book, "Good to Great," will be published shortly by HarperBusiness. More information about Jim Collins and his work can be found at www.jimcollins.com.

Sponsors for RealTime Phoenix: Discover, HP. MarchFirst, Sony, Steelcase

Video-A-Go-Go-Away VIII

The Best of Flipside Video
#1
Live!
Circle Jerks
Bad Religion
(New Improved Re-release)

VHS
H-Fi
60 mins.

Live in L.A./1984!

Bad Religion:

Damned to Be Free*
Along the Way/Frogger*
Drastic Action
Fuck Armageddon/New Leaf
Bad Religion/Politics
Voice of God Is Government
Latch Key Kids/Slaves

Circle Jerks:

I Just Want Some Skank
Beverly Hills/Operation
Leave Me Alone/Coup d'Etat*
Junk Mail/Stars and Stripes*
Behind the Door
Wild in the Streets*
Red Tape/Wasted
Backs Against the Wall
Question Authority
Political Stu
Letter Bomb/In Your Eyes
Murder the Disturbed
Under the Gun
When the Shit Hits the Fan*
Parade of the Horribles
I Don't Care/Live Fast Die Young
Put a Little Love in Your Heart*

(*Not included on previous release)

All rights reserved. Copyright 1995 Flipside Video. Made in USA!

Send S.A.S.E. for a catalog of videos, CDs, mags, etc.

Flipside, POB 60790
Pasadena, CA 91116

Video-A-Go-Go-Away VII

Trolleys of New England
Volume Two
Southern New England

Trolleys in Connecticut, Massachusetts and Rhode Island
From films taken between 1936 and 1962

A Production of the
Seashore Trolley Museum

63 Minutes
B/W & Color

This video presents many of the trolley lines that ran in southern New England during the 1930s.

We start at New Haven, Connecticut to see the open cars in Yale Bowl Service in the 1930s. We head north to Hartford to see trolley operations in the capital city before conversion to buses in 1941. Check out an unusual freight move on the Glastonbury line. We also stop in New Britain in 1937 for the last day of streetcar operations.

We proceed north into Massachusetts for visits to Springfield, Worcester, Boston and New Bedford. We also see operations of the American Car Sprinkler Company, the Pullman-Standard Car Manufacturing Company, the Grafton and Upton Railroad and the Eastern Massachusetts Street Railway.

We then pay a brief visit to Providence, Rhode Island for a look at trolley operations there in the 1930s.

This video features black & white and color film in 8 and 16 mm., accompanied by music and narration.

This program runs for approximately 63 minutes.

This program is produced for the New England Electric Railway Historical Society Inc., owner and operator of the Seashore Trolley Museum in Kennebunkport, Maine.

(c) 2000, NEERHS, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
No portion of this program may be used without the expressed written permission of the NEERHS.

For information on the Seashore Trolley Museum or our other video titles, please write to the Seashore Trolley Museum, P.O. Box A, Kennebunkport, ME 04046-1690, or telephone the Museum at (207) 967-2712. On the Web visit www.trolleymuseum.org

$24.95

Video-A-Go-Go-Away VI

Teenage A Go-Go

Teenage related television show openings/closings, clips & commercials from the 60's and early 70's.

Hullabaloo (Brylcream)
Rice Krispies (Partridge Family)
Cover Girl (Susan Dey)
Ultra-Bright (Farrah)
Kool-Aid (Monkees)
Happening '69 (Cover Girl)
Beech-Nut Gum (Four Seasons)
Summer Blonde
Code 10
Secret Agent (Pillsbury)
Score
Old Spice
Groom & Clean
American Bandstand '64
7-Up
QT
Clark's Teaberry Gum
Tammy
Margie
Karen (Coke)
Gidget
Patty Duke Show (Breck)
Raisin Bran (Pixie, Dixie & Mr. Jinx)
Ipana
Where The Action Is (Bit-O-Honey)
Twister
Great Shakes
Pepsi
Intermission
Pepsi
Vespa Motor Scooters
Coke
Sprite
Intermission
Hollywood A Go-Go
Ultra-Bright
Funyuns
English Leather
Shivaree
Rice Krispies (Monkees)
Ultra-Bright (Maud Adams)
Swingin' Together
Breck Shampoo (Patty Duke)
Cover Girl (Dorothea McGowan)
Monkees (Kellogg's)
Slickers
Eyelighter
Shindig! (Str-dex)
Sea & Ski
Something Else (American Dairy)
Wildroot
Where The Action Is (Closing)

Running Time: 1 hour

I think I got mine from Cool Stuff Toys and Videos.

Video-A-Go-Go-Away V

Dame Darcy
The celebrated artiste is now appearing in
Turn of the Century
May we suggest you attend?

The House of Luxury

Join Meatcake cartoonist Dame Darcy at the strangest variety show of all time on Turn of the Century. With ghosts, frying feet, crooners, doppelgangers, and cryptic film making, this cult hit program from late night NYC will pull your leg and twist your mind with its delirious vision of Victorianism run amok. Turn of the Century is relentlessly bizarre -- and relentlessly fun!

"Dame Darcy -- (her) Turn of the Century obsessions make her the cutest and cuddliest corpse that's ever walked the earth." NY Press

A Thrilling spectacle direct from Gotham!
You must be witness to this fracas!

Dame Darcy

reputed scion of the assassin booth
and artiste long associated
with the comic series

Meatcake

now starring in an amusing program of
high stepping action you will not forget!

Hi Jink

of a most extraordinary nature via that
marvel of today ie television!

Cartoons

suitable for both gents and the ladies
no touts or rough sports need attend!
Miss her feats and friends at your own

Peril!

See the dolls living and otherwise!
For those with a taste for fancy goods
A non pareil of song, burlesque and mayhem
from the latenight NYC variety show
"Turn of the Century"!

Will you dare too look?

Running time: 90 minutes
(c) 1997 Dame Darcy
Produced by Blessed Elysium
Published by The House of Luxury
Manufactured in the U.S.A.
Cover Photo: Rustyn Birch
Package Creative: Devon!
Package Production: Amy Hayes
For quantity discounts contact:
The House of Luxury,
Box 763. Lyons, CO 80540
To order single copies send
$21.95 to: Dame Darcy, Box 730,
New York, NY 10009

ISBN: 1-56455-2756

Handwritten on tape shell:

Turn of the Century
"Best of"
Vol. 1 & 2
Dame Darcy (c) 1997

Video-A-Go-Go-Away IV

A film but Alistair Banks Griffin and Sean Sullivan

Dear Julia,

A darkly comic tale of a man standing on the edge of sanity...

VHS

Boyd Soloman (Christian De Rezendes) believes he can fly and is eight floors above a street intending to prove it. Based on the highly acclaimed graphic novel by Brian Biggs, "Dear Julia," is the story of how he got there. Boyd's vivid memory of the past and shaky comprehension of the present give clues to the events that lead him to the edge: his childhood, his parents, and a particular trip to the country where everything began to go terribly awry.

An Influence Machine production
in association with Top Shelf Productions
present Dear Julia,
staring Christian De Rezendes, John Los Michael Grando
based on the original graphic novel by Brian Biggs
produced by Sean Sullivan and Alistair Banks Griffin
directed by Alistair Banks Griffin

(c) 2001 Influence Machine Productions. All rights reserved. Art and design copyright (c) 2001. Influence Machine Productions, 248 McKibbin St. #1G, Brooklyn, NY 11206. email:agriffin90@hotmail.com

iPhones Are Better Than Babies!

When my coworkers had to choose between meeting our boss' newborn infant -- or checking out the new iPhone -- the choice was clear.