Bum-bum-ba-dum (wahhhhhhhhhh)

The lack of posts has been mainly due to general busy-ness, but, also, I realize almost a week later, because I am still getting over the fact that Borders decided to stop taking pictures of customers with Bob Barker four people before I got to the front of the line. "It's causing too many problems," the flustered Bluetoothed store employee said after I almost saw a grown man cry because his camera wasn't working. Sigh.

So you'll have to make do with this, and ponder what could have been the Holiday Greeting in your mailbox this December.



The skin-color contrast alone would've made it a classic.

And in further crushing Holiday Greeting news, I don't think I'm going to Chiller Theatre this weekend. There's no one whom I'd deem Greetingworthy (the closest is Jason Lively, a/k/a the bad Rusty Griswold, from "National Lampoon's European Vacation"), and, since Shavar "Dudley" Ross cancelled, the prospect of spending $50 to get there and pay admission is looking less appealing by the second. Maybe I'll rally, but it's looking bleak.

Tough times, people. Tough times.

Here's a picture of a puppy at the Bide-a-Wee table at the Bob Barker signing to make you feel better.

Richard Dawson: Tinsel and Rot Hall of Famer

As you, the subtly attractive T&R reader, no doubt know, the game show genre holds a special place in that place in Tinsel and Rot where a heart would be. It's a very populist genre (its contestants are, by and large, more real than your average reality show participant), and we're populist kind of people, so it's a natural fit. But sometimes the common foolk aren't enough to take a game show to the next level. Sometimes you need a host that can tie it all together.

The Hall of Fame has already welcomed the Game Show King, Mr. Chuck Barris, and today we would like to honor another of the true greats in game show history, Mr. Richard "Dickie" Dawson.

If Mr. Dawson's career consisted solely of a starring role in a sitcom with perhaps the most unlikely "sit" of all time (that would be, of course, "Hogan's Heroes," which brought us the lighter side of Nazi Germany), it would be worth noting. But it wasn't until Mr. Dawson's post-"Hogan's" career as a game show icon that he earned his induction into the Tinsel and Rot Hall of Fame. First came "Match Game," where Mr. Dawson was a world-class bickerer with host Gene Rayburn and fellow panelists Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly and the go-to guy in the Super Match round. And he also honed his shameless flirtation techniques.



Mr. Dawson really upped the flirtation on "Family Feud," where he became legend. Ray Combs did a decent job after Mr. Dawson left, but every host that followed was so awful that they only highlighted the brilliance that was the Dawson Years. And in those years, Mr. Dawson kissed every female he laid eyes on--young, old, pretty, homely...he kissed 'em all. Aint that a man?

There are many fine, fine moments from Mr. Dawson's tenure as "Family Feud" host, but these two are genuine classics.





Then, after leaving "Family Feud," Mr. Dawson delivered a stellar performance as the heartless Killian in "The Running Man," likely Tinsel and Rot's choice as Favorite Schwarzenegger Film (Non-Comedy Division).



We salute you, Richard Dawson. Survey says you're in the Tinsel and Rot Hall of Fame.

Everything dies, baby, that's a fact

There is perhaps no worse feeling than being thatclose to something, only to see it slowly slip away. Luckily, 29 years of living have prepared me well for that feeling, so my recent return to Atlantic City and, more important, "The Price Is Right Live," wasn't as crippling as it could've been. But it wasn't exactly a cakewalk either.

After finally taking a bus ride to Atlantic City that didn't involve some heinous traffic delay, I arrived at Bally's Park Place a good three hours before the 3 p.m. "Price Is Right Live!" show. So, I headed up to register and get the all-important price-tag nametag that marked me as a potential contestant, ready, willing, and able to come on down at a moment's notice. As I looked around, it was clear that I was the only rube who had actually dropped money on Ticketmaster. Everyone else (most several decades ahead of me) was clutching coupons and vouchers that offered some sort of discounted seat to the show. An older man whose mouth valiantly hung on to a few lower teeth asked me if I knew of anyone on the line who didn't have a coupon. When I told him that I was one such soul, but that I had prepurchased my ticket on Ticketmaster, he expressed his sorrow that I would not be able to take advantage of the deal spelled out on his coupon. As far as I could tell, it would have involved a significant discount for both of us. Oh well.

The gentleman, a repeat attendee himself, continued to express shock that someone had actually ordered a ticket in advance. The mere thought that someone might've paid full price for this thing seemed to offend him. A lot. He asked if I could cancel my order, which I, of course, could not. He then kept repeating what a shame that was, but I stopped listening at some point and just kept moving forward.

Soon it came time to get my ticket, register, and bid on the two prizes that would determine who made it up to Contestants' Row. Those who came closest to the actual retail price in the year in question would find themselves with a chance to take home some lovely prizes. Unfortunately, the first item was a bedroom set from 1998. Whenever bedroom sets pop up on "The Price Is Right," I zone out. I've never bought one, never really want to buy one, and just generally don't care. So I just bid close to what I heard some people coming out of the registration room say they had bid.

As it turns out, those people were very dumb. Or else they were really shrewd and intentionally threw their fellow contestants off by talking about fake bids. In any case, a few hours later, I discovered that I was roughly $8,000 off. Oops.

I felt a little better about the second item, a ratty-looking sailboat from 1974. It couldn't have been that much, so I went with the old birthdate and typed in $1115. That sounded about right to me.

With the bidding done, I headed back out into Bally's and grabbed a bagel and a doughnut at the little coffee shop next to the brightest casino area I've ever seen. As I grabbed a seat, I noticed that my dear friend from the registration line was lurking around. He went up to the cashier, asked for something, and was quickly denied. As he wandered around, I tried not to make eye contact, as I wasn't in the mood to talk to him anymore. I did a good job. But it didn't matter. And soon I was eating my bagel next to some strange, bleary-eyed guy as he peppered me with questions about my bidding.

"What did you bid on the sailboat?"

"Um, I don't know [long silence, during which he just kept staring at me], like, $1100 something?"

""Yeah, I bid $1102. What about the bedroom set?"

And then I told him my bid and he kinda started yelling at me. I assured him I didn't care that much. I thought maybe our conversation was wrapping up.

Nope.

"So you actually bought your ticket in advance? Man..."

"Yeah, well..."

"That's too bad, I coulda gotten you a deal. And I coulda really used that five bucks. The slots have been killing me."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Are you staying overnight?"

"Um, no. No."

"Yeah, they said they'll give me a room, but I gotta give them my credit card to hold it. And I aint doing that."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't bring credit cards to the casino."

"Well, that's a smart idea."

Finally, my disinterest in having breakfast with a guy who doesn't have 5 dollars to play slot machines started to show, and he wished me luck and went on his way.

Just to let you know that this story has a happy ending, the guy wound up winning a microwave, a portable DVD player, and an air hockey table after conquering the "Clock Game." On stage, he said that his son would love the air hockey table, but my guess is that it was quickly turned into quarters and nickels.

***

Apparently, they do the same pricing games at every "Price Is Right Live" show, because I once again saw "Race Game" (during which a woman just gave up with 10 seconds left), "Hole-in-One (Or Two)," "Cliff Hangers," and the rest of the games I saw on my last visit. That was only slightly upsetting, because the games are dandies in the show's oeuvre. Still, would it kill them to play "Plinko"? Or "Safe Crackers"? "Shell Game"?

Another slight disappointment was that my man David Ruprecht isn't the host anymore. He has been replaced by J.D. Roberto, who has hosted a bunch of subpar game and reality shows, the most popular being "Shop 'Til You Drop," which never really held my interest in the post-"Supermarket Sweep" timeslot and still doesn't do it for me. He also apparently cohosted "E! News Live" for awhile. When they showed a clip of him next to Giuliana DePandi, a palpable feeling of awe enveloped the room. But he's no Ruprecht. I didn't even want a picture with him after the show.

But it would've been nice to have a pleasant contestant-to-host chat with him on stage. When he announced how the contestants were chosen toward the end of the show and revealed the actual retail price of the bedroom set, I had a really strong feeling I wasn't getting to Contestants' Row. But there was still a chance with the sailboat, which would make me part of the Showcase Showdown. It's pretty hard to win the Showcase Showdown, as, unlike the actual show, you have to come within $100 to win the showcase. And there's only one showcase for the two contestants to bid on. However, the person who comes closest without going over does win something. And it's nice to win something, which, in this case, would have been a pool table.

So, after the final pricing game, J.D. cued the announcer to call the names of the two people for the Showcase Showdown. Knowing this was my last chance at getting up on stage, I was desperately hoping that my name would be called. Sure, it wasn't the real "Price Is Right," and Bob Barker was on the other side of the country, but it was sort of like the real thing. And what red-blooded, TV-watching child doesn't one day dream of being in the Showcase Showdown? Please don't actually answer that.

Anyway, I thought my bid was pretty reasonable and might just get me up on stage. The other four people at my table were a little on edge, too, though one of them had won 1,000 Total Reward Points during one of the between-game giveaways, the actual value of which neither she nor her husband could quite figure out. But it was something, albeit not time on the big stage. That was the true Total Reward, and we all wanted it.

"Our first contestant is...James..."

Yeah, yeah...

"Si..."

Holy...

"...mmons."

What? Is that a mistake? Did the announcer read it wrong? No one's getting up. He must've read it wrong. He meant to say "Sigman," but he screwed up and now...

Oh. James Simmons is the old guy in the fourth row. There was no mistake.

Crap.

I wasn't the second contestant either.

The dream had died.

***
But the worst, it turns out, was yet to come. As James Simmons and the other guy were escorted backstage to be debriefed on the rules, J.D. explained how they were chosen? Already knowing the process, I just wanted him to get to the point, to reveal just how ridiculously far off I was on the price of the sailboat.

"And the price of that sailboat in 1974 was... $1137."

Sonofabitch. You're telling me that I was only off by $22 and somehow I didn't get up on stage? I smell a rat.

After telling my tablemates that I was only $22 off, and accepting their condolences (or apathy, I can't remember which), I briefly considered cornering James Simmons after the show and demanding that he tell me what he bid. But he seemed old and frail and I didn't want to induce any heart attacks and/or seizures, so I let it go.

To make matters worse, the bid that I concocted in my reeling head during the Showcase Showdown would've made me the owner of a brand-new pool table, since both of the elderly morons overbid. That pool table sure would look nice crammed into my living room, either in place of my futon or with my TV and stereo on top of it.

***

Luckily, I was able to rally my spirits later in the day. My actual reason for being in Atlantic City was to see former "Nashville Star" contestant Miranda Lambert at the House of Blues in the Showboat casino. It was actually the second show in three days in which I saw a contestant from the first season of "Nashville Star," a season that has not been and likely never will be topped in the show's history. Two days earlier, I had seen first-season runner-up John Arthur Martinez at the Ace of Clubs in NYC, where he put on a pretty damn entertaining set.

So, as you could imagine, it was an exciting three days. What? You can't imagine? You've never watched "Nashville Star"? You suck.

And I wasn't just going to the Showboat to see Miranda in concert. No, there was also the Miranda Lambert Fan Club meet-and-greet beforehand. Yessir, I am in the Miranda Lambert Fan Club, making me an official "Ran Fan." Wanna make something of it? Look, I think she's got some good songs (particularly "Kerosene") and she covers John Prine, The Band, and Steve Earle in concert. And she likes Old Crow Medicine Show. Pretty cool. And, oh yeah, it's been brought to my attention that she don't look so bad (pardon my red eyes...why are you looking at me anyway?).



Take that, James Simmons.

New Jersey & Me: Perfect Together: Part 1

Dear friends, there is no more appropriate state to hold the title of "Official State of Tinsel and Rot" than my beloved New Jersey. And to prove as much, I regale you with stories of travels in the Garden State that served as the bread for the government shutdown sandwich lovingly prepared by Governor Jon Corzine at the beginning of the month. If this posting doesn't bring in billions of tourism dollars, I don't know what will.

Weekend #1 began, once again, at Newark Penn Station, as I headed out to see one of New Jersey's patron saints, Southside Johnny, headline a night at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ. And if that weren't enough reason to go, there was also a set from Maybe Pete in the hours leading up to the show. And a fine set it was, capped off by a guest appearance by Bobby Bandiera, who plays guitar in the Asbury Jukes (Southside Johnny's backing band) and is a New Jersey music legend in his own right. Or so I'm told. I'm still a little new on this Jersey thing. But I'm learning as fast as I can.

Anyway, Maybe Pete gets better with every show. And I don't say that because members of the band occasionally read this blog. I say it because it's true. See for yourself someday. How about the Bitter End on 7/22?



Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes played for about two-and-a-half hours on the outdoor stage at the Pony, and I finally had to bail to catch the train back home right about the time they started singing "The Star-Spangled Banner." I don't like leaving shows early, but I also don't like being at the Asbury Park train station at midnight. I doubt you would either. But don't take my word for it. Try it for yourself; maybe you'll dig it.

In a horrible, dreadful turn of events, Phil Lesh and Friends and Trey Anastasio were at the PNC Bank Arts Center that same night, meaning the train home was filled with burnouts and pseudo-hippies once we pulled out of the Aberdeen-Matawan station. To make matters worse, one of the kids in front of me started having a loud discussion about that day's events in the World Cup. Combining the Grateful Dead and soccer into one train ride is like shocking my testicles while kicking me in the face with a steel-toed boot. Not fun. Nor did it get any more fun when some burnout started screaming out "Free Kicks?" and "Pele" repeatedly, egged on by the morons in front of me not engrossed in World Cup chitchat, who found it hilarious. Then he would stop for a minute and the storm appeared to be over, only to be ramped up again by the Phish nuts. Soon he started yelling out "New York Cosmos" for a change of pace.

It was a long ride home.

***

It was also a long ride to Atlantic City the next day, as the bus from the Port Authority traveled about five miles in 90 minutes because of an accident on the Garden State Parkway. Anytime I try to get to Atlantic City for a time-specific event, things like this happen. I foolishly assumed that getting the 10:30 bus from the Port Authority terminal would get me to Atlantic City well before 3 p.m.

Wrong. We pulled into the Sands at 3:10 p.m.

And to make matters worse, the Sands, unbeknownst to me, doesn't give you cash back. Instead, they give you a $25 card that you can only use to play on the slots. Wow. There's a great deal. You might as well just punch me in the face and take $25 out of my wallet. Or at least give me a $25 card that I can only use to play pinball and skeeball in the kiddie arcade. It would be more enjoyable and only slightly less profitable. And I say only slightly less because I did win back $7.50 on the quarter and nickel slots. Whoopee.

Anyway, the main reason for going to Atlantic City was to see "The Price Is Right Live!" at Bally's (the 3 p.m. show) and "Family Feud" (at 7 p.m., and, of course, I'd already missed this once). But, because of the late arrival, I couldn't register for "The Price Is Right Live!" and could only watch as other people came on down and played "Race Game" and "Cliff Hangers." A tragedy.

Actually, it wasn't so bad, because, as it turns out, the host of "The Price Is Right Live!" is none other than David Ruprecht. That's right: the host of TV's "Supermarket Sweep," a killer show (not a Top 10er, but real good). That was almost worth the price of admission right there, particularly with the photo op afterwards (the other guy is "The Price Is Right Live!" announcer, Dave Walls; I don't know him from Adam, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him I didn't really want him to be in the picture...seems like a swell guy, though).



***

I was able to register in plenty of time for "Family Feud" (hosted by the much less cool Michael Burger of "Mike and Maty" fame...or nonfame), but I didn't make it on stage. You have to guess the number-one answer to survey questions, using those fancy push-button mechanisms you see on "Love Connection" or "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," to get on stage, and I was a dud when it came to that. My best chance came when the computer broke and they had to switch to random selection. Still no luck.

The most fun I had was sitting next to a group of young tykes, who were at that age that reminds me that in about, say, seven or eight years, I may have to start looking for friends who are barren, impotent, or simply hate children. Since this version of "Family Feud" isn't really geared toward kids (they can watch but aren't eligible to play), the questions on the in-theater TVs were occasionally slightly randy. This led to one of the kids asking the inevitable question, "Daddy, what's a condom?" Daddy deflected it. The kid decided it was another way of saying "condo." Then the word came up again in one of the "Family Feud" clips shown in between games. I think the kids were starting to get suspicious. One of them wondered why you would put a house on before you go to bed.

Overall though, "Family Feud" was not quite as enjoyable as "The Price Is Right Live!," despite the fact that there was still the illusion that I might make it up on stage at the former. I wish I had been able to help the woman who was going for the $17,000 Fast Money jackpot at the end of the show. She had come by herself, so she decided to enlist the woman sitting next to her to help her win the dough. But then that woman only managed to answer four of the five questions in the allotted time, offering that a skunk was a kind of animal you would find in the desert. It didn't work out well.

***

With some time to kill, I walked down the boardwalk and suddenly heard the sounds of what sounded a lot like Eddie Money outside of Trump Plaza. And then I remembered that Eddie Money was playing the Beach Bar, a completely pointless business venture in that you can here and see the show just fine from the beach, without the embarrassment of having to spend $25 to see Eddie Money (though many did fork over the cash, God bless 'em). So I watched and waited, hoping to hear "Two Tickets to Paradise" or "Take Me Home Tonight" or even "I Wanna Go Back" as the big closing number. Apparently, he gets those out of the way early, because I didn't hear one of them in the half-hour I stood on the beach (though I did hear "Walk On Water," a song I had almost completely erased from my memory). And in that half-hour, he must've thanked the crowd about 189 times. Every time he started thanking people, I assumed the show was over. But then it would just go on. And then there'd be really uncomfortable stage patter, such as "Aw, I'm sorry I got old, guys" and "My in-laws are over all the time. I didn't marry them. They love the kids so much, they can have 'em." Or, my personal favorite, this completely incomprehensible monologue:

"You guys remember when 'Saturday Night Live' was good? They had John Belushi and Gilda Radner. Man. And there was this skinny guy from Long Island, wearing dirty jeans and, God, I don't know what else."

And then he just started playing a song. Was Eddie Money in the original cast of "Saturday Night Live"? Did I miss something?

***


Just when I thought the night was over, I came upon this scene between Caesars and Bally's Wild Wild West. Let me see if I can describe this for you. The woman with the mask on was posing as a mermaid. The guy in the wheelchair was having some sort of conversation with her. The women between the two were protecting the mermaid.

What? You want more?

Earlier, I had noticed the presence of the mermaid. She was striking various poses and, I guess, if you paid her, you could take a picture with her. Wow, I remember thinking, that's dumb. Then, after the Eddie Money Experience, I tried desperately to find reasonably priced, mildly nutritious food not part of a buffet in the casinos and was coming up empty. So, as I popped out of Caesars, I came across the above scene. When I got there, it was just the amputee in the wheelchair and the mermaid talking kinda close (that's a sentence, by the way, that can only be born in Atlantic City). There was a fairly large crowd gathered, and many were shouting at the guy to leave the mermaid alone. But he wasn't listening and kept at his "conversation." Eventually, a guy came out of the crowd and wheeled the amputee a short distance away. This brought cheers from the assembled. Until the guy just rolled right back. Then, a few seconds later, this scene was repeated with another gentleman. Again, cheers, followed by groans upon the amputee's return.

It was at this point that the Wall of Women went into effect. Several women formed a protective wall around the mermaid, with their backs facing the amputee while ensuring the mermaid, "Don't worry. You've got us to take care of you." And so one of them was in charge of encouraging the amputee in the wheelchair to get lost while the others secured the well-being of the mermaid. It was at this point I took the above, flash-less picture. Perhaps you're thinking, "Hey, why didn't you take charge and wheel the guy far, far away?" Well, if I were confident that I could win a fight with an amputee in a wheelchair, I surely would have. But I'm not so sure. The best I could do would be to outrun him, and even that's iffy.

Anyway, eventually someone did wheel the guy away and then some other guy called the cops while the amputee tried to restart his conversation with the mermaid.

Satisfied with this conclusion, I went to catch my bus home. I wound up getting home at around 2 a.m., just in time to get a good night's sleep and get back on a train to Asbury Park to see another of New Jersey's finest, the Hudson Falcons, at Club Deep.

And after that, I rested.

No deal

Last week, NBC aired "Deal or No Deal" every night in the hopes that it would become the next "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire." Unfortunately, it's a show that's essentially 45 minutes of watching briefcases being opened. I can do that in my apartment, and Howie Mandel doesn't even have to be there.

Furthermore, there's no requirement to be a contestant on "Deal or No Deal"; you don't have to have any great, or even marginal, skill. All you really need are a love of money and a tolerance for Howie and you can win large amounts of money. And, ultimately, that's what makes "Deal or No Deal" a not-so-great game show. Sure, it has its moments of suspense, but when it comes down to it, you don't really care if the contestant wins $5 or $500,000. The overwhelming emotion you feel, regardless of the show's outcome, is anger that you weren't asked to be on the show.

So "Deal or No Deal" will never take its place in the pantheon of great game shows. And now, for the public record, I will count down the ten greatest game shows of all time. Note the wording. These are not merely my favorite; they are the greatest. There really is no debate. But add a comment if you want.

10. Name That Tune--I prefer the Jim Lange years. The qualifying rounds had a tendency to drag sometimes, but the final "Bid-A-Note" round--now that's good TV.


9. Press Your Luck--Without the Whammy, this is an average show at best. But the Whammy makes it a classic. Plus, Michael Larson's attempt to cheat his way to riches on the show is truly fascinating to watch. The Game Show Network (I'm not calling it GSN) did a special on it; maybe they'll air it again sometime in between "Dog Eat Dog" reruns. Man, that station has lost its way. In any case, "PYL" is also the only game show on the list that I recreated in my grandmother's living room using a deck of cards. I was a very resourceful child. Also, I didn't have many friends.


8. Tic Tac Dough--Much like the Whammy, it was the crudely pixellated Dragon that was the star of "Tic Tac Dough." Or at least it was a tie between it and Wink Martindale. Also a far better adaptation of tic tac toe than "Hollywood Squares," perhaps the most overrated game show of all time. "Tic Tac Dough" also had an insidiously catchy theme song that will now be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

7. Who Wants to Be a Millionaire--The only show that (a) I passed the test to appear on and (b) showed up on an episode of. Unfortunately, those two things are not related in any way. I passed the written test but made the unfortunately fatal mistake of saying the word "dick" during the interview with producers (a long story, one that I know begs retelling after that, but I think everyone who reads this has heard it--if not, tell me and maybe I'll post it here for posterity's sake). And I showed up on the second episode of the series, in the audience, right behind the Hot Seat contestant (see photo at left...look real hard over the contestant's right shoulder). Rarely has a whiter person appeared on the screens of America. Amazingly, the show still succeeded.

Regardless of my connections to/personal issues with the show, it's a classic--trivia mixed with strategy and a little bit of greed. Coincidentally, that also describes most of my life up to this point.

6. Family Feud--I refer here to the classic Richard Dawson era, though I'll give Ray Combs some props for his early work on the show (it started sucking when they added that bullseye thing). I will not, however, tolerate Louie Anderson and Richard Karn. Shams.

It's a good show to play along with and, on top of that, if there's anything more fascinatingly creepy than Richard Dawson kissing every female contestant full on the lips, I don't know what it is.

5. Match Game--On paper, this is a fairly moronic idea. And, actually, in practice, it is also a moronic idea. But the celebrities (most of whom were really barely celebrities) make it work. And Gene Rayburn's stick mike--brilliant.


4. The Gong Show--It's debatable whether this actually qualifies as a game show, but since this list can't properly be debated, I don't see a problem. Plus I have to give Chuck Barris his props. I used to watch this every morning on USA when the family first started going up to Windham in the summer, and it's fair to say it would drive my mom crazy. Not a big Chuck Barris fan. But she still let me watch. And I don't think there's ever been anything on TV that has made me as excited as the sound of Gene Gene the Dancing Machine's theme music.


3. Remote Control--I had the Remote Control board game AND the (shown at left) Remote Control Nintendo game (which couldn't have been bought by more than, say, 10 people). And I'd make sure I was in front of the TV every night at 7, when I would flip on MTV to watch Ken Ober, Colin Quinn, and Marisol Massey (and later Kari Wuhrer). Man, if this show was still on, I would completely clean up on it. Born too late, I suppose.

2. Jeopardy--Tends to be taken for granted, but it cannot be denied. After making my grandmother play my sad version of "Press Your Luck," I would sit in front of the TV with a notepad and play along with "Jeopardy," writing the dollar amount of every question I got right (and, because of my Catholic school education, taking off the amounts of the questions that I guessed wrong). Good times.


1. The Price Is Right--Most game shows just focus on one game. But "The Price Is Right" has dozens of games, with a different mix every show. And there's a pretty high percentage of brilliance--the Clock Game, Plinko, Hole in One (or Two), Lucky Seven, Safe Crackers, Ten Chances, Three Strikes...it's a nearly endless list, though I must also mention Cliff Hangers, with the yodeling mountain climber, which battles with Plinko for my favorite. The perfect game show. "Deal or No Deal" couldn't hold its jock.

Honorable Mention: Joker's Wild, Super Password, Sale of the Century, The $25,000 Pyramid, Cram, Scrabble, Split Second, Talk About, Jackpot, Double Dare, Win, Lose, or Draw