Lookie what I got in the mail! Ordered them on Amazon, in order to “raise my son right.” Almost all the crap they make for kids these days is pure nonsense. Very little story, just repetitious stupidity. Unfortunately, when I started playing my iconic Thundercats on-screen, my son (who is only five) showed no interest. He was far more interested in jumping up and down in front of me and disturbing my religious revival! So Lion-o, Cheetara, and the gang had to wait until junior was in bed.
I could go into how impressive the cartoon is beyond pure nostalgia, but it’s like trying to describe a painting or a song; you just have to experience it. From the high-detail animation to the iconic characters and character acting, to stories with actual, on-going plots and 80s rock themes. They just don’t put that kind of work into cartoon shows anymore!
Okay, I might be a little bias. The Thundercats were the foundation of my young reality for much of my formative years.
But if you’re an old nerd my age, than you already know what I’m talking about. If not, pretend to be buying it for your kids–or your future kids–and see for yourself.
I remember making up my own cast of characters, but instead of calling them “Thundercats” I called it “Cat Attack.” I had made one good drawing that I figured I could never top, so I just kept tracing that one as a template and giving them a slightly different look and unique weapons. I also made a bad guy who was a hyena man. He was my favorite!
Watching this also ties my stomach in knots thinking about how I had all those cool toys and then gave them away! I used to save my allowance until I had $6.36 (that’s $5.99 with sales tax), then I’d ask my mom to take me down to Murphy Mart (or maybe it had become Ames by that time?) so I could buy me another awesome Thundercat. I had all the figures! My best friend Ben had the Thunder-Tank and I think the Cat’s Lair, as well as a cool Sword of Omens with light-up Eye of Thundara!
And then I had to go and do something stupid like give my big tub of toys away when I got older. The boy’s parents were trying to say, “Oh, that’s okay, you keep them,” ’cause they didn’t want more junk on their son’s bedroom floor, but the kid was too eager to be denied. (There were also some Visionaries in there, the guys with the holograms on them. Remember that show?! They were awesome!)
That damn kid didn’t even know what he had, probably never even played with them! Damn stupid me! Why couldn’t I have been more selfish? Then I’d still have them!
And my kid wouldn’t be allowed to touch them, either. Oh, no! Just me. I’d wait until everyone else was in bed and then bust them out, Tigra jumping off the couch and disappearing, Panthro ninja-flipping up the stairs and fighting Ssslythe and Rataro and all the Mutants, maybe getting trapped in the Giant Microwave of Doom and riding the back of our War Dogs, strapped on by rubber-bands. And I’d use aluminum foil to make a perfectly molded mask of one character, and then whoever put on that mask would become him! (Used to use that trick all the time with my He-Man guys.) Yeaaaah, that’d be great!
Hmm, had to wipe my lip there. Foaming at the mouth a little. Maybe, uh, maybe we should just pretend I didn’t write any of this…