6 pop-culture icons that should crash into my house
Jun Ueno
Article Tools
More Blog
Car accidents are no laughing matter. When two cabs crashed into Petterino’s on two separate occasions this year, the reasonable reaction was, “Man, that is tough luck.” But a few weeks ago, when the famed Oscar Mayer Wienermobile crashed into a Wisconsin home, lodging itself underneath the home’s outdoor deck, the natural reaction was: “That is awesome.” This got The A.V. Club thinking: What other pop-culture icons should we welcome to crash into our living room, and how would we benefit from their unannounced arrival?
Kool-Aid Man
Give credit to the big red jug: He has cornered the “crashing through the wall” market to the point that he probably wants to sue Oscar Mayer for stealing his bit. Watching a childhood friend make his trademark “Oh yeah!” entrance would be top-10 moment in the life of anyone who grew up watching Saturday morning cartoons, and his disposition suggests he’d be willing to pump his sugary drink into the plumbing so I can shower with Roarin’ Raspberry Cranberry. Having Kool-Aid Man around the house could also answer one of life’s pressing existential questions: What happens to Kool-Aid Man once someone drinks all of the tropical Kool-Aid within his giant pitcher-face. Death? And if so, would you have to bury the pitcher-carcass?
Super Star Destroyer
Any true Star Wars geek knows that the Super Star Destroyer is actually way cooler than the Death Star and a menacing beast of the universe—and those geeks would pay handsomely to get their hands on an actual one once it crashes onto my property, or pay $35 to visit the theme park built inside its mammoth interior, called “Six Flags: Executor.” Conversations with nerds making the pilgrimage to my starship would go something like, “Oh, you have collector’s edition Greedo action figure from 1978? That’s nice. Did you see that the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer is lodged in my garage? For only $12, I’ll let you touch it.” My house would also become the start and end point of a journey around the world in this Darth Vader balloon.
Duff Partymobile
Seen ever-so-briefly during the “The City Of New York Vs. Homer Simpson” episode of The Simpsons, the Duff Partymobile boasts beautiful cheerleaders, a grand appearance from Duffman (the greatest character ever to don a beer-belt), a giant multi-gallon mug of frothing Duff, and the Ferris Bueller soundtrack classic “Oh Yeah“ by Yello constantly blaring from its speakers. Sure, the party would be amazing, but think of the next day: hanging out with Duffman, watching The Price Is Right while we shake off hangovers and learn the finer points of pelvic thrusting.
Calvin's Spaceman Spiff
That lovable Calvin And Hobbes swashbuckler Spaceman Spiff always seems to be careening his flying saucer toward the surface of an alien planet. So, why can't he do the same and land in my bedroom? He could provide insight into advanced weaponry and engineering (can he retrofit my garbage disposal with futuristic technology?), and I could certainly use the death-ray zorcher against the pestering rodents under my refrigerator. Assuming the spaceman brings Hobbes along, I could finally discuss contemporary politics and philosophy over a cup of tea with an intellectual stuffed animal.
The Bluesmobile
The Blues Brothers’ 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan—a.k.a. "the Bluesmoblile”—has always been capable of evading up to 150 police cars, possibly because of its unmatched maneuverability and defiance to the laws of physics, but can Jake and Elwood evade that many cops as they obliterate my basement? (And can director John Landis mount cameras on my washer and dryer?) Quite frankly, I’d like to see them try, and would be honored if the iconic car left my house in shambles (assuming they don’t run over my slumbering tabby). Even if they fail, there’d probably be an inexplicable, impromptu all-star musical number or two (featuring, say, Wilson Pickett and Paul Shaffer) as they’re being taken into custody.
Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker robot
There were few mentions of the 1988 film Moonwalker after the untimely death of Michael Jackson. Apparently people wanted to remember him as the King of Pop, and not as the mechanical monstrosity that saved the world—through rocket launchers and impenetrable shields—from Joe Pesci. If MJ’s robotic alter-ego accidentally crashed through my house, I’m sure he would not only repair the damage, but his freakish, Transformer-like exoskeleton would surely shut up the noisy terriers next door and allow me to sell my security system, because I doubt any burglars are going to mess with a mechanical juggernaut that possesses superior firepower and dance moves.
Facebook
