Parkeology

Separated At Birth

2012-02-16T00:00:00.009-05:00

If there is one thing we love around the Parkeology campus it’s Oscar time. Shane really goes all out with the parties and predictions. Not only does he demand to see every single nominated film (yes, even the foreign shorts) but he also dresses up as the nominated actors (and actresses) characters, one a day each day leading up to the big event. Today he happens to be Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe and I must say he is STUNNING.

Marilyn, Michelle, Shane, each beautiful in their own way.

We can all agree that Shane can pull off wearing pink; of course some thoughts are just so clear and plain that you would imagine EVERYONE must agree. For example the first time you go to Islands of Adventure you make fun of the Hulk tracks, or the first time you eat corn on the cob you think “I need a plastic unicorn head to help me out here”. These are the basics, the universal (no pun intended) truths.

...since sliced bread.

Likewise there are plainly obvious casting choices for movies… Meryl Streep for anytime you need, I don’t know…. a woman. Of course you can’t go wrong with Nicholas Cage for anytime you need subtle, nuanced acting.

(NSFW due to language, lots of it, seriously)

When it comes time for actors to portray real life people things get trickier. Do you hire a great actor who maybe does not look exactly like the person they are portraying or do you go with physical resemblance first.

Anthony Hopkins may not have been the first guy to jump to mind when you think “Nixon” yet his acting ability pulled it off, even without prosthetics. Frank Langella is perhaps a foot taller than Nixon and looks nothing like him yet again in “Frost / Nixon” we bought it. Philip Seymour Hoffman more or less morphed into Capote for the 2005 film of the same name and the skinny little Fresh Prince of Bel Air somehow managed to pump up and convincingly play Muhammad Ali… there is not a single formula for this.

Both different and both good.

Then there are the times when miraculously you can have the best of both worlds, you can have your cake and eat it to. Such is the case with the yet uncast, yet uncreated, yet unwritten, yet unthought-of Walt Disney movie. Why we have yet to have a theatrical movie about the life of Walt Disney I am not really sure… He is one on the twentieth centuries most creative and innovative figures. He led an interesting and exciting life and the impact of his creations are still felt to this day. He also has legions of devoted fans… seems pretty obvious that there should be a Disney movie… perhaps put out by the Walt Disney Company or perhaps NOT put out by them… but it should exist. One day it will, and if that happens somewhat soon the incredibly obvious and clear choice is an actor who is getting a lot of buzz right now, Mr. Jean Dujardin.

Walt is on the left in case you couldn't tell.

When we took the office field trip to see his film “The Artist”, one of the years most talked about movies, I was struck by a few thoughts. First of all it was a shame but some sort of problem at our theater caused most of the film to be without dialogue and completely void of color to boot. Despite the technical problems Dujardin’s performance stood out. Secondly I could not help but to think that Disney’s doppelganger was dancing and prancing across the screen.

Done... not much more to be said really.

He’s nominated for an Oscar… the guy can act… but just look at these pictures… it is like he and Disney is the same freaking guy! Honestly I am not sure that I have ever seen an actor who looks so much like the person he would portray. Yea, yea…. he’s French, he has an accent, but he is also a professional actor who I am sure could learn to speak in Disney’s Midwestern drawl.

Take from it what you will but why have we not seen something this obvious posted all over the place? Why is Ain’t It Cool News not running a campaign to make this happen? Why is it that Parkeology has to blaze the trail… well that is what we do I guess. But honestly when this happens you know who said it first, and you know that it is freaky how much these guys look alike… and you know you want to see it. Maybe a whole series of movies: Walt Disney and the Locomotive of Destiny, Walt Disney and the Orange Grove of Fate, Walt Disney and the Chamber of Frost, I don’t know, Walt Disney and anything Lucas would think of in his sleep… it works.

A scene from the upcoming action thriller "Walt Disney and the Kingdom of Doom"

Lets try to get this to happen… I’d love to see Shane dressed up as Walt Disney for a reason for once, not simply because he happens to dress as him most of the year anyway. I’ll be rooting for Mr. Dujardin at this years Academy Awards and hoping that Iger or someone sees what is so clear to the rest of. When you give us credit in the titles just make sure you spell Parkeology correctly, thanks.

Jokes In T-Shirts

2012-02-15T07:00:00.000-05:00

I think it's cool that we've gotten to be so comfortable with each other over the years. Like how you don't mind if I occasionally spend a whole day writing about t-shirts. And in return, I don't complain about you reading this in sweatpants.

I have to say I'm enjoying the trend lately from the merchandise folks to feature things that are a bit more obscure. It wasn't always the case. Disney World merchandise used to be a homogenized collection of the same old "Fab Five in front of the castle" prints that have been around for forty years. But they've stepped up their game quite a bit recently.

Sometimes the average customer isn't even aware of the insider reference. Like in this shirt from Epcot's Canada pavilion.

Cute kid's shirt, right? And specific to a World Showcase pavilion! In the past we would have gotten a generic World Showcase shirt -- maybe with Goofy -- and certainly not something designed to be sold in only one spot.

But what I love about it is the Disney history on display. How many daytime guests are even aware that Goofy was once known as the star of an entire series of "How To" animated shorts. The series has been abandoned for decades, though it did make a brief resurrection with the 2007 short film "How To Hook Up Your Home Theater," which played in front of National Treasure 2 (ensuring that today's kids still haven't heard of it).

Or you want the truly obscure? How about this beauty from Magic Kingdom:

I mean come on! It's a t-shirt for the PeopleMover! Who would have dreamed that in the Eisner years? Attraction-specific stuff was exceedingly rare, except for the most iconic rides like Space Mountain or Haunted Mansion. The PeopleMover doesn't even have any characters or storylines to leverage. Yet some one in product development saw fit to give us a whole shirt based on that Tom Morrow gag.

And what's more, we've got Progress City sitting there on the shirt as well! Something that we blow by in less than 10 seconds on the ride, and which 99.9% of the public don't even realize is a major piece of theme park and Disney history.

Color me impressed. Now where's my Famed Naturalist John Muir shirt?

Euro Disney

2012-02-13T07:00:00.002-05:00

I am not normally a conspiracy theorist when it comes to Disney. I don't believe any of that stuff about frozen Walt or the Little Mermaid movie poster or pretty much anything beginning with the phrase "According to the research of Marc Eliot."

Collapses in case of hurricane.

But I could maybe be persuaded that Disney World is secretly a member of the European Union. Think about it. The whole thing operates as its own little country. A little European country. Disney World has toyed with its own universal currency. It used to require a passport to get into its different parks. Its parking situation is ridiculous. If not for the ban on topless sunbathing, I think we'd see it listed on the map of Europe, sandwiched somewhere between Spain and France. It already has a bigger footprint than Luxembourg.

And its own version of the Chunnel. Photo courtesy of BestOfWDW.

It's one big multilingual continent, complete with various definitions of personal hygiene and a form of socialized medicine in which no one ever dies on property. But I never realized until recently that it uses European road laws.

"There's only two things I can't stand: People who are intolerant of other people's cultures, and the Dutch." -- Nigel Powers.

Okay, so it's just for trams at the Transportation and Ticket Center. But I never noticed it before, and now it just looks odd every time I see it. Makes me want to stop shaving my arm pits and putting ice in my drinks. Or vice versa.

The Carousel House Murders

2012-01-30T07:00:00.005-05:00

We depart from our normal fun-loving hilarity to request urgent help in a developing situation. We ask our readers, both home and abroad, to please contact us if they have any information regarding the whereabouts of Dr. Harold Farthing.

Dr. Farthing, preparing to deliver his famed address,
The Nature of Tea Cups in Two Dimensional Space.
Oil on canvas, 1975, Manchester Museum of Art.

Most of you know Dr. Farthing as one of the preeminent parkeologists in the field today. We first met him at a fundraiser some years back—one of those banal functions that parkeologists are forever having to attend. He seemed a right dapper chap in his classic tuxedo, his beard neatly trimmed with just a hint of grey. He and Teevtee spent nearly thirty minutes together out by the bar, downing glasses of champagne and discussing the literary merits of Mission to Mars. I myself moderated the debate between Farthing and the Progress City team over the stagecraft of Doug Live. And the good doctor proved exceedingly gracious when one of the Imaginerding guys spilled coffee on his custom tailored Mickey Mania Parade overcoat.

That was nearly eight years ago, and though we kept tabs on one another, we had not corresponded since an impromptu encounter at a Kim Possible Station in World Showcase sometime last March. It is not unusual for us to go several months without hearing from Dr. Farthing. He is often out on one of his many expeditions, excavating the original Mineral King site or exploring the untamed wilderness of Disney’s America. But imagine our surprise when we learned by way of his wife that Dr. Farthing has been missing now for nearly six months.

At first we thought nothing of it. Farthing once spent an entire semester locked away in a concealed canister, observing the progress of Tokyo Disney Sea’s Raging Spirits ride (he was later heard to mutter “Never again”). But when a mysterious package showed up on our doorstep late last week, we realized the gravity of the situation.

We present this file unedited to you, our readers, in the hopes that someone may be able to shed some light on this strange case.

Case 1101739

Carousel Family Interviews

Conducted by Dr. H. Farthing on site

July, 2011

The following are my notes from a series of four interviews conducted at the home of John and Sarah Carousel, Tomorrowland, FL. Also present at this time were their children Patricia (16) and James (11), as well as John’s parents. Another relative, Sarah’s uncle, was visiting during the same time, but declined to be interviewed, requesting privacy over a recent downsizing.

My intentions during these interviews were to establish some background information on the standard of living enjoyed by American families of the twentieth century. The Carousel House, as it is known in the community, has a reputation as an architectural oddity. The house is by turns modern and antique, roomy and cramped, well lit and forebodingly dark. Upon my initial tour, I was struck by its uniform inhospitality. Paper-thin walls abound; it is not uncommon to be sitting in the kitchen and hear conversations in the next room as plain as day. Entire areas seemed genuinely unfit for use. The rumpus room, which was being remodeled at the time, was so claustrophobic and dark I could not imagine a single recreational activity that could be comfortably performed in such a confined space. It felt more like a mausoleum, and there was barely room for a sofa, let alone a pool table or other diversionary toy.

At first introductions, the family seemed pleasant enough. They expressed what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm for my work and were eager to show off their living space. The family engages in typical good-natured interplay, and is not above playing games together and celebrating traditional holidays. At first blush, this projects a familiarity with practices common to all American families. But as the interviews wore on, I confess I began to find it unsettling.

The Carousels, from left to right: Grandfather, Patricia, Grandmother, James, John, Rover, Sarah. Not pictured: Orville. This portrait--the only one agreed to by all members--suggests some uncomfortable relationships within the family unit. Note the aggressive use of distance to isolate the individuals from one another, a sign of deep-rooted psychological withdrawal.

In fact, it seemed more like a performance put on for my benefit, rather than the normal interactions of a typical family unit. On several occasions, the family would sing a little tune of their own device, which—far from evoking a charming sense of Midwestern values—had the effect of making everyone uncomfortable. I had heard tales of ritualized singing before, but always in the context of a cult or the ravings of a lunatic. When Sarah got distraught over a ruined kitchen appliance, I was fairly alarmed when John burst into song to cheer her up. My own thought was that if I had broken one of my wife’s prized possessions, I would be better served to buy her a replacement.

But along those lines, it may be that money is a sensitive subject. My inquiries into the family’s financial situation were politely brushed aside. John implied that he has a career in the city, to which he commutes every day, but was intentionally vague as to the nature of that job. There seems to be a frugality to their lives, and much of the children’s clothing appeared to be homemade. On at least one occasion, John expressed what could only be interpreted as blatant jealousy over a neighbor’s new car.

It may be that the Carousels have fallen on hard times. There is the aforementioned out-of-work uncle, and the daughter was observed using hand-me-down exercise equipment from the grandmother. The kids’ big Christmas present this year was an off-brand video game system, and though they gave the appearance of a lavish turkey dinner for the holidays, I later learned there was no other food in the house, other than a carton of milk and cheap frozen pizzas.

In spite of this, the father, John, relishes his role as head of the household, proudly showing off his wanton materialism at every chance. Frankly, the man frightens me. The house he so loves is a veritable deathtrap. If an inspector ever had cause to examine the place, he would find enough code violations to stretch from New York to California. There are no smoke alarms to speak of, and we were fortunate that a minor oven fire was caught in time. The wiring in the kitchen was out of control, with cables strung everywhere, over lighting fixtures and around appliances, almost dipping into the sink—and all plugged into a single overloaded electrical outlet.

A housing inspector's nightmare. I quickly snapped this picture when no one was looking.

But the worst was the bathroom, and it was here that I first began to suspect foul play. I requested to use the facilities, but upon entering I found the tub—one of those old basins with clawed feet, like you see in horror movies— completely full. Right next to it was an electric fan, plugged in and buzzing like an angry insect. On the ground between the two was a puddle of melting ice.

This had all the makings of a staged accident, and for a brief instant, I wondered if the family was trying to kill me. One slip on the ice would have sent me headfirst into the tub. All it would take is one flailing hand to knock in the fan, and I would have been electrocuted in an instant. By the time the cops showed up, any icy evidence would have melted away. I tried to push such thoughts from my mind, but the more I thought about, the more scared I became.

I began to question just what kind of man John Carousel was. He laughed a lot—and at the strangest things. I found his jokes in poor taste, especially a remark about the failures of Charles Lindbergh, a man who lost a child to a violent kidnapping and murder. More than once he referred to himself and the human race as a bunch of “rats,” and when the aptly timed cuckoo clock interrupted his diatribe about dating, it gave perfect voice to the thoughts spinning through my head. The man was clearly nuts.

He could be fearsomely misogynistic in his conversations with his wife, who is required to perform all household chores without a complaint. He ascribed to the belief that a smiling, submissive wife was the only thing that kept marriage tolerable. After a bizarre accident in which Sarah miraculously survived a tumble from a rickety wooden ladder, I began to wonder if he might be abusive as well.

Certainly there is a violent streak that runs in the family. The grandfather has all the makings of a pyromaniac. Not only was I forced to endure his unending pipe smoking, but the man spent an entire evening snuggling a giant firecracker as if it were a sleeping baby.

Grandpa and his beloved rocket. On a side note, pictures taken within the confines of Carousel House are often murky and poorly rendered, in spite of the photographer's best efforts. This may point to some other force at work.

Grandpa’s wife is no better. The old woman has a vicious mean streak and an addiction to blood sports, which I saw her foaming over when she thought no one was watching. When I later confronted her, she feigned deafness, but the woman is a remarkable marksman, with hand-eye coordination to best even her video-game-loving grandson.

Yet still, it was John that unnerved me the most. The more time I spent with him, the more I began sense a depraved mind at work. His personal role models are reproachful. I was shocked and horrified when he wistfully claimed a kinship and appreciation for Benedict Arnold, a man most famous for betraying his country.

There was an undertone of sexual perversity that kept creeping into his dialogue. He seemed blithely unconcerned when his son James discovered John’s secret stash of lewd stereoscope pictures. He laughed it off, and let the lad have a look, intervening only when he got worried that Sarah might find it.

Of even greater alarm was when we accidently walked in on his daughter Patricia, in a state of undress. Patricia is a beauty in the very flower of womanhood, and it rattled me the way her father casually took me into her bedroom, where she sat at her vanity with her hair down, dressed only in her underwear. To her credit, the young lady seemed suitably embarrassed, but once again her father brushed it off, telling her it was okay because I was “a friend.” It made me wonder how many more strangers had been “friends” in this household.

This distasteful image captures John in the act of ogling his daughter's backside. Although not obvious in this photo, her hips were vibrating at the time due to the exercise machine.

The mother and the daughter seem to have it the worst, but I fear John may already be corrupting James, the youngest. On at least one occasion, Sarah implored the two males to stop teasing Patricia—“teasing” in this case being a series of caustic remarks about the general ugliness of the girl. The boy James (or Jim, as he is sometimes called) runs around in a dreadful fright, howling at the moon like a lunatic, telling jokes to the dog, and displaying an unhealthy fascination with military anthems and carving knives. Jim may also be the victim of psychological abuse. During a power outage, it was Jim who was sent down into the blackened basement to fumble around with the electrical fuses, while John remained parked in the kitchen, cooling himself with a paper fan from Niagara Falls.

A candid shot of James in his bedroom carving what he claimed was a doppelganger for his sister's face. Future serial killer at work, or just a boy and his knives?

Still, one cannot discount the possibility of paranormal activity in the house. There is a malevolent feel to the whole proceedings, as if some unholy entity is wreaking havoc on the minds of this middle-class American family. The members of the household made no mention of this directly, but I clearly witnessed poltergeist-like behavior on several occasions.

The first instance was merely spooky—a slow, rhythmic running of water in the kitchen sink. But it became progressively more violent, and in one terrifying encounter, the entire kitchen came alive: the refrigerator door banging open, the dishwasher vomiting out its trays, the vacuum cleaner zooming around untouched while the lights flickered uncontrollably. John appeared to take it all in stride, and the rest of the family spends a lot of their time avoiding the kitchen (and John) completely. Everyone seems on the verge of jumping out of their skin. It does not help that they have rigged the house with a voice activation unit that speaks in a disembodied voice every time you turn on the lights.

I am not given to superstitions, but I plainly tell you I believe the house to be haunted. Whether it got that way through actions of the Carousel family, or whether the family was later corrupted by the dark presence in the house, I do not know. I only know that there is a spirit lurking in the shadows of Carousel House. And I have become obsessed with understanding this phenomenon and bringing it to rest.

During my time with the Carousels, I saw fit to photograph the family and the house, as a way to chronicle my work. These same photographs are included with this file. At the time, I did not notice anything strange in my compositions, but upon further review back at the office, I did come across one image that caused my heart to leap into my throat. By sheer accident, I believe I have caught the specter on camera.

The above picture shows Sarah slaving over the family wash, using one of the many primitive devices that populate the house. But laboring next to her is a young child no more than six, a girl, in old-fashioned dress. She does not speak (or at least, did not speak when I was around), and I did not see her in any other pictures.

It is clearly not Patricia. For one thing, the girl is too young, and for another, this photo was taken only a few moments before the uncomfortable encounter with Patty in her bedroom. Nor is the child James—though given the lad’s warped state of mind, I would not put it past him to dress in girl’s clothing to frighten his mother. But James has an alibi, since we found him moments later in the study, ogling the perverted stereoscope.

I have been to the county records office, and after much searching, I finally uncovered birth certificates for the Carousel children—all the Carousel children. Imagine my terror when I discovered not two, but three separate papers. According to the documents, in addition to their son James, the Carousels have two daughters: Patricia, and one born three years earlier. Someone must have visited the records office prior to me, because the other daughter’s name has been redacted on the certificate.

A photographic blow-up of the ghostly figure. Note the haunting, dead eyes.

I can find no death certificate, but I am now convinced that the Carousels murdered their oldest daughter and buried her in the basement of their demonic home. I have every intention of returning to Carousel House for a fifth interview, at which time I will demand access to the basement, or excuse myself for a quick investigation. I’m hopeful that I can locate the grave with expediency, and once I have proof, I will alert the proper authorities.

Given that there may have already been several attempts on my life, I am taking the precaution of mailing this case file to my colleagues at parkeology.com. Should the worst come to pass, they will be able to take action. Hopefully, they will do something a little more proactive than posting it on the internet.

Signed,

Dr. Harold Farthing, Professor of Parkeology, Manchester University

7/16/11

If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy The Raiders of Castillo del Mar, a swashbuckling pirate adventure novel with a comedic twist, available on amazon.com. Or check out Bismarck, winner of miceage's one and only short fiction contest.

Disney: Equal Opportunity Employers (unless you are a hairy Asian)

2012-01-25T20:09:00.002-05:00

(A quick note... you can enlarge the scans to read them if you like.)

With the recent news that Disney is now allowing hippies, beatniks and general good for nothing hooligans to run rampant while employed at the Disney parks, Parkeology thought we would take a look back at the salad days of the mid eighties.

Welcome to Dizneeeee World Man!

You see, we have always taken a Walt Disney World centered approach to things around here. Yes, Disneyland is the original, yes Tokyo does everything better, yes the Florida management seems to be made up mostly of blind squirrel monkeys, but still, Walt Disney World is OUR park damn it!

Ahhhhh, he is cute... can't run a park worth squat, but cute for sure.

So while we could have gone back to the Magna Carta of Disney employee guides--Disneyland circa 1955--we instead decided to look at what we consider to be Walt Disney World's golden era, the mid 1980s. This was a time of great excitement for the Florida parks. Sure, behind the scenes EPCOT CENTER was tanking and bringing down the company with it. Yeah, the company was almost the victim of a hostile take over and all of that, but from a guest's point of view--especially a kids point of view--this was the magic hour. The Magic Kingdom had been established and built out, EPCOT CENTER was a wonder, Eisner had taken control and started pouring money into the place and there were just vague rumors of new parks and resorts to come… it was all optimism and joy… the future was so bright we needed to wear shades.

Rules? We don't need no stinking rules!

There have been a lot of local news reports spouting off misinformation about why the rules have just been changed, not unlike a decade or so ago when they were relaxed for the first time, but who knows the truth? Maybe Disney is fearful of discrimination lawsuits, maybe they need to expand the work force pool of possible employees, maybe Iger just decided to grow a sweet Fu-Man-Chu… I have no idea. But I do know that in 1986 times were different.

Notice the hidden Mickey made up from Spaceship Earth, the smiling cast member's hair and
Mitt Romney's head.... nice! But also a beer right on the cover of a new employee manual... interesting.

We hit up the vast Parkeology archives and pulled the following manual to take a trip back in time. This is “The Disney look” a brochure given to all employees to teach them the do's and don’t's about how to groom and present yourself in the Disney manner. I'm not sure that this would still be relevant today, truthfully, but it is a time capsule of another era.

Young, older, in goofy costumes or not--but all white and preferably dimpled, thank you very much.

They don’t make a big deal of the rules on beards and mustaches… one short paragraph that reads:

“Moustaches and beards are not permitted. The exception to this rule is where an individual was hired before the establishment of this standard.” I bet Roy had them drop that last line in there.

But the manual is interesting for a number of reasons… First of all check out a young Mitt Romney on the cover… Now notice the odd lack of any Asians.

White guys… no problem, you are covered. White girls... check, mostly cute of course. But we have a nice sampling of other ethnicities… remember this is a mega conservative, big (even then) company presenting an All-American slice of diversity. So we have African Americans, Hispanics, men and woman, old and young… and yet you have to get to the last page before you see ONE Asian person, and even then she maybe sort of could be Hispanic and not Asian at all!

Couldn't they have hit up the China Pavilion or something?

So clearly Disney of the mid 80s had something against hairy Asian people… I smell a class action lawsuit. I’m not sure if Kevin Yee was working at Disney at this time, and he does not seem all that hairy to me, but let's get him involved… maybe he can write a quick book about it to get the ball moving.

Bonus points if anyone can tell me where this photo was taken.

I don't want to make a huge deal of this but after all, Asians are the fourth biggest ethnic group in the country, making up roughly 5% of the population. Come on guys... this is supposed to be all-inclusive, the Benetton of family getaways... what gives?

FINALLY... I think she is Asian right? I mean we have the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders down there,
I think that might be Scott Baio in the yellow shirt, but top left.... Asian or maybe Hispanic or possibly
South Pacific Islander or Native American, but 6 nice white girls and an ex Happy Days star to balance
things out.

Honestly even at the time and I am sure much earlier the Disney Look was considered a bit of a relic. It's amazing that it has lasted this long... but it is that very lack of hipness, that square old fashioned sensibility that works for Disney and has always worked for them. When they try to be cool things go sideways... so get ready for the hipster facial hair to decend on the parks and think back to an older, slightly better time when hair and those pesky Asians were kept in check.

(BTW, for the record I am not Asian... but my daughter is. Her moustache is spectacular.)

Match Game 3

2012-01-12T07:00:00.000-05:00

One of the cool things about doing this site is that there are so many other people out there who are just as weird and obsessed about crazy Walt Disney World stuff as we are. Also, they are apparently deranged pyromaniacs.

Our close personal friend Jess M. was kind enough to email some more pictures of vintage Walt Disney World matchbooks. Teevtee has already posted on two separate occasions (here and here) of his vast collection, but as you can see, even that was incomplete.

How about we start off with a little barbeque?

True park fans will remember this as the predecessor to Cinderella's Royal Table, where all the princesses met in the top half of the castle during Fantasy in the Sky and enjoyed a barbeque feast of ribs, pulled pork, and beef brisket, complete with checkered table clothes, stained bibs, and all the sauce that's fit for eatin'.

Or maybe it was a restaurant at Pleasure Island, I don't know.

Or how about a cover from Disney's third theme park? Everyone who's anyone in Hollywood smokes. They also drink. And do drugs. We're still waiting to get our hands on some vintage WDW drug paraphernalia.

This next one has to be my favorite, from the Top of the World restaurant / dinner theater / bar / illegal gambling casino, high atop the Contemporary Resort.

Is it just me, or is this evidence of the Dharma Initiative's early involvement with the property? I'm telling you, Discovery Island is the same island from Lost. And if you believe the rumors, The Others still live there among the rotting boardwalks and a vast amount of bird dung.

I think we can now safely put the argument to rest as to which site provides you with the latest, greatest, hard hitting theme park matchbook news. And the internet heaves a vast sigh of relief.

Thanks again to Jess M. for the pictures!

Indiana Jones and the Wardrobe Malfunction

2012-01-09T23:31:00.000-05:00

It is hard to be a bigger Indiana Jones geek than me. I'm not sure it's possible. Raiders of the Lost Ark is my all time favorite movie. Unless I'm in an Empire Strikes Back mood. But no really, it's Raiders. Today, at least.

As a true Indiana Jones fan, I possess secret knowledge that is apparently unavailable to the people in charge of things such as Imagineering great Disney attractions. For instance, I know for a fact that Temple of Doom is the second best Indy movie (you probably think it's Last Crusade, but you're wrong. I won't hold it against you). I know that Karen Allen holds the distinction of being both the best (Raiders) and the worst (Crystal Skull) leading lady. I know that Belloq really did swallow a fly (google it). I don't know why he swallowed a fly.

I guess he'll die.

Indiana Jones is the greatest action hero of all time and it's not even close. A lot of this is due to Harrison Ford, but you have to give solid credit to the costume. That costume is an icon. Go to any decent Halloween party, and I guarantee you will see at least two or three dudes wearing it. I think at the Magic Kingdom Not-So-Scary party, it's probably the third most popular, behind (regrettably) Jack Sparrow and Other Random Pirate.

So it ticks me off to no end that the so-called geniuses who dreamt up the Great Movie Ride can manage to botch things for us true Indy fans. Take a look at this scene from the ride:

Now here's the scene from the movie. Camera angle is reversed from the ride's point-of-view, but the positions of Indy and Sallah are the same.

Spot the problem? It's the whip! Indy's trusty, iconic, never-leave-home-without-it whip! The ride gets scene-specific details right (such as Indy's gloves, which only appear in a couple scenes), but his whip and ever-present shoulder satchel are on the wrong hip.

In the movies, Indy wears the whip and the satchel on his left hip, so the strap is on his right shoulder. His gun holster is always on the right hip. Indy is right handed, so he quick-draws from the right hip (to shoot random Arabs). He cross-draws his whip from his left hip, which makes sense, as it allows the whip to unfurl as he swings his arm back.

For some crazy reason, the Great Movie Ride gets the costume wrong. And in case you're wondering whether Indy switches it up in the movie, he doesn't.

"You said their headpiece only had markings on one side?" -- Indiana Jones

Nor does he in Temple of Doom...

"Take the left tunnel, Indy!" -- Short Round

Or in Last Crusade...

"You left just when you were becoming interesting." -- Henry Jones, Sr.

Or in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull...

"Your gun is digging into my hip." --Ace Ventura (way more quotable than anything in Crystal Skull)

For that matter, his costume is correct in Temple of the Forbidden Eye out at Disneyland.

Photo by Loren Javier from Flickr

And it's even right in the sign on the Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular, just scant yards from the Great Movie Ride! Though to be fair, the stunt performers might individually switch from left to right, depending on which is their dominant hand.

This sign is right-handed.

Is there any logical reason why GMR botched the costume? Maybe in the age of political correctness they were worried about showing the gun on Indy's hip, but that seems ludicrous in a ride which includes a full-on gangland shootout and even your temporary tour guide is packing heat.

Or maybe they felt like the whip needed to be seen in order for people to be happy with Indiana Jones? But it's barely seen anyway, since his jacket is covering part of it. It has to be an accident, right? But nevertheless, the fanboy in me is unreasonably offended.

It wouldn't be the first time parkeology has caught Disney red-handed with hand problems. But this seems like an easy thing to correct. Hopefully somebody who works GMR will see this and pass the word on to the costuming people.

Chasing the Moon

2011-12-29T20:58:00.000-05:00

I never bought a pair of Mouse Ears, though I did receive one as a gift.

I own very few collectible pins, most of which were won during a couple stints on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire Play It, and the rest as perks from various races and events and things.

During an unfortunate episode in the 90s, I once bought a couple of Walt Disney Classics Collection figurines, until I figured out that for the price of a dozen, I could buy a decent used car.

But I have to admit, I dig the Vinylmation.

Now I try to be very restrained in my purchases, because this could spiral out of control quickly, but have you seen these new Park Starz figures? They are Vinylmations without the traditional Mickey shape, each one custom molded to a very abstract representation of something from the parks. And incidentally, there is a Vinylmation spoiler below, so tread lightly.

For those of you that don't know, Vinylmations are bought sight unseen. You never know which one you're going to get (hopefully one you don't already own). And to make things even more interesting, there is also a secret "chaser" figure in every set, that is not shown on the display.

I already owned a Tiki Bird, a Small World dude, and a Horizons Robot (and I am seriously considering starring them in a youtube sitcom sort of like Three's Company). But check out the one I got recently.

Is it hot in here, or is it just you, baby?

Blue leisure suit disco pose. Disturbingly-shaped nose. Bushy painted eyebrows. Yes, that is none other than the Funmeister!

The eponymous mascot of Pleasure Island's nightly New Year's Eve party is the chaser for the Park Starz set, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. That is a nice, obscure reference that rewards the true fan, and is one of the things I love about the Vinylmation series. This is the first chaser I have ever owned, and I'm proud to say I got him legitimately (no ebay or trading -- just a lucky pick from the box).

It seemed very serendipitous, this being New Year's week and all. And Funmeister is rapidly becoming something of a parkeology mascot. I'm seriously thinking of starting another youtube sitcom called "Famed Naturalist John Muir and the Funmeister." They would live in an apartment in New York and John would be the stuffy roommate, but the Funmeister would always be getting them into hilarious hijinks. And maybe a Country Bear lives across the hall as an annoying neighbor or something.

Anyway, I kind of just wanted to post this to make Teevtee jealous, since he was the original Funmeister champion.

Have a Happy New Year!

One Golden Sun

2011-12-14T07:00:00.000-05:00

Will someone please call the fire department? I don't mean to cause any panic, but one Richard Morton Sherman's pants are on fire.

I've always been taught that there's just one moon and one golden sun. And a smile means friendship to everyone, unless you're a mentally unstable Batman villain or a crocodile.

Or in some cases, both.

But let's take a little trip, shall we? It's a Small World, very first room, right when you enter:

Hey, One Golden Sun! Or possibly a ninja star being thrown by reindeer. Now let's just circle around Scandinavia for a second...

"I'm from Holland! Isn't that vierd?"

A sun wearing a hat, which is how fashionable yellow dwarf stars like to be seen in public. The windmill in the foreground is being pursued by Don Quixote, who you can see here:

He's blurry because he's crazy.

That's like a whole 'nother sun on the other side of the windmill. For those of you keeping score at home, we still haven't left the first room of It's a Small World, and already we have more suns than Tatooine.

But fewer womp rats.

Leaving the first room, we sail into India.

Where the sun is about to stick up a train.

And from India, it is only natural to go to China.

As if we were Nixon. Oh, just google it.

Sailing out of China into Egypt, because I'm pretty sure they share a border. Note that here we get the first animated sun effect, a series of swirling light patterns. This is also what happens to your vision if you try to watch a solar eclipse without looking through that little hole in the cardboard box.

Also note the rare palm dwelling camel, the only camel to spend its entire life without ever touching the ground.

It's just a hop, skip and a jump to Latin America, home of the creepiest singing scarecrows this side of Oz. Note that we finally have a truly animated sun, with beams rotating behind other beams in a pulsating pattern, which I find kind of hypnotic.

Mariachi cactus!

And then on to Polynesia, home of my favorite Small World sun. I like how truly evil it looks. Clearly it is upset about the hula-dancing witches being burned at stake.

And finally the last room, which I always think of as Antarctica, mainly because of the cool color palette, and also because Antarctica is home to seven of the world's top ten roller coasters.

As well as stunning hot air balloon tours with clowns.

That's a lot of suns. Nine of them, to be exact -- more than there are planets in our solar system (since Pluto recently got sacked). So thanks for all the ruined dreams of childhood, Dick Sherman. Why don't you go back to swimming in your big pool full of hundred dollar bills?

Hey, at least you got the "just one moon" part right.

Shades of the Funmeister.

T-Shirt Correction League

2011-12-12T07:00:00.001-05:00

So I was browsing through a shop at the Magic Kingdom. I think it was Sir Mickey's (a.k.a. the best shop in Fantasyland), and I came across a t-shirt.

I think this is a new line of interactive clothing from the makers of fine Disney threads. The goal is to look at the picture and see if you can spot all the things wrong with it.

Let's see how I do...

The real Main Street U.S.A. is in color, and the picture is in black and white.
Mickey Mouse is a cartoon character, not a real person.
The trolley tracks don't end suddenly into a great white void
Main Street usually has people on it.
It's not raining right now, so the street shouldn't be wet.
Walt Disney is dead, but the picture shows him as alive.

Let's see, am I missing anything?

Oh yeah. That ain't the Magic Kingdom. Nice try, Disney Merchandisers.