Ah, speaking Russian. That’s how you know it’s going to be fun, and pointless fun at that. The whole country seems to be the opposite of George Mallory. When asked why he wanted to climb Everest, he explained, “Because it’s there.” “Because it’s there” works both ways, in Cyrillic.
Let’s face it. Squidward Tentacles was right: In the future, everything is chrome. Or more accurately, we should go back to the future, and make everything chrome again. Your car should weigh three tons and get eight miles per gallon, and a full ton of that weight should be fins and chrome trim. Your washing machine should have some chrome on it, and shake your house to pieces on heavy wash cycles. And your toaster should be chrome, weigh more than a poodle, and work like this one.
The Internet forgives, but it never forgets. (real fun begins at 2:30)
It was the eighties. Things were different. Phil Simms figured you’d have to drive to your cousin’s house in Nebraska on Thanksgiving and bring a VCR tape if more than two people were ever going to see this thing. He had no idea that he’d be digitized and displayed on the Interwebs forevermore along with the waitress from Mel’s Diner in a cheetah-print Tarzan-and-Jane outfit with her breasts in low Earth orbit around her torso.
I have no idea why Todd Christensen is wearing a motorcycle helmet.
All he’s missing is a monkey. He’s got everything else he could possibly need to be a successful organ grinder. He’s got style, he’s got grace, he’s got a very grating song that goes on for too long — he’s got it all. If his monkey carried around a little cup, wore a tiny vest and fez, and existed, this fellow would already be part of the Organ Grinder Hall of Fame. He’d be the only person in the Organ Grinder Hall of Fame, but it’s something to hang your hat on.