Finally, a new Foogo!

Oh boy, it’s been forever.

Sure, at first, I had a reason, securing sponsorship with the Mountain Lakes Market. (Go there! It’s delicious! What’s delicious, you ask? Everything.)

So what’s the excuse for zero updates since?

For starters, I’m in perpetual marathon training. My goal is to run one in each of the 50 states. I finished New York in November, and New Jersey was next. That marathon was on May 1st, so for the last month, I’ve been in heavy training mode, in the zone, so to speak. Eat. Run. Lift. Sleep. (I finished with a time of 3:08:48.)

The next race isn’t til October (in Columbus, Ohio), and while I have every intention of going harder to break the three hour mark, for now, I’m falling into some free time. Oh, and I FINALLY found grape bubble gum…

Grape bubblegum? I don’t want to spoil the surprise entirely (and I know I still owe everyone the Kings and Coyotes logos), but this will be the first non-NHL Foogo ever, an homage to an old Nintendo game – Bubble Bobble. If you’re one of those weird deprived children of the 80s – or children deprived of the 80s – that has to ask, “What the hell is Bubble Bobble,” I give you the premise of 8 bits of glory in 20 words or less:

Two dragons spit bubbles to encase enemies. When all enemies have been encased and popped, move onto the next level.

The game NEVER ends. (It might, but after Level 99, I went to Level A1, so I’m led to believe it’s eternal.) I imagine Bubble Bobble would be popular today, not only with children suffering from ADHD, but stoners, too. (See: Toe Jam & Earl.)

I most fondly recall playing Bubble Bobble with my dad. Ice Hockey and Double Dribble were too competitive; I’ve always been a sore loser, and he had 25 years on me! I also suffered from an acute case of Nintendo thumb. And sometimes the remote was too slippery. Or the dog would block my view of the screen. As far as teaming up to play other games, even with the cheat code Contra was still a pissing contest, because if one of us was too fast for the other scrolling across (or up) the screen, the other would lose one of those precious 30 lives. So being able to team up for the greater good of popping evil whales, wizards and springy light bulbs wearing boxing gloves, that was cool, and one of my favorite childhood memories of hanging out with my dad. (Dominating poisonous seed-spitting watermelons in Stinger was another great father/son bonding experience of my youth.)

It debuts tomorrow… and it might not be what you think. (Or maybe it’s exactly what you think.)

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Half-artist, half-fish, half-monkey, the Mojo has defied logic, gravity and superiors in four different decades! This is his life, unfiltered, unrefined, underwear.

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