Definition host Jim Perry on set

The game itself was a groaner, we never cared for all that give a letter, take a letter stuff -- but That Song sucked us in and Canada watched the game show Definition, with host Jim Perry, for 15 years.

From 1974 to 1989, Toronto housewives, with the help of CFTO TV personalities, would solve silly puns, sort of hangman-style, to win really low rent prizes. Even at a very young age, it was clear the prizes were really really, very cheap. From Definition’s Wikipedia page:

If they solved the puzzle the team received a small merchandise prize and $10 for each unrevealed blank. If they failed to solve the puzzle $10 was given as a consolation prize. Five consecutive wins allowed the players to play for a bigger prize like a refrigerator.

The show, while popular, was also frequently mocked for the cheapness of its prizes, which were usually small appliances, pen and pencil sets, or other small courtesy gifts. Only the show’s annual championship tournaments offered expensive prizes, such as a car or a resort vacation.

The announcer was weatherman Dave Devall. That Song is Quincy Jones’ Soul Bossa Nova, which we all knew as the Definition theme song, until it became the Dream Warriors’ 1991 hit My Definition of a Boombastic Jazz Style, and later blasted into infamy as Austin Powers’ theme song. Fun fact: Both Mike Myers and Definition were created in Scarborough, Ontario. Definition is probably where Myers first heard the song. It’s certainly where we heard it.

I loved that sign. Ladies and gentlemen, Definition.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj-5IF5hKPI

What every Canadian of that era will remember is how at the end of each show Uncle Bobby used to do this strange, actually downright creepy birthday letter ritual. It went like this…

Uncle Bobby would get a volunteer birthday picker person. From thin air – there was never a visible audience, so I don’t know where they came from. But the volunteer would stand beside him in a white straw hat that said BIRTHDAY PICKER on it (Bobby would say “behrthday pickah”) and do whatever Uncle Bobby said. The birthday ritual has many parts and Uncle Bobby could be pretty bossy about pushing a clueless volunteer through all the parts of the birthday ritual, so watch out.

Then the two of them would yell at the broom closet for Bimbo the Birthday Clown to come out. Watch Darlene get it wrong and Bobby slap her down. The clown does not come out if you don’t yell the right thing.

[An aside - watch the YouTube clip from about 40 seconds in, as Bingo's closet door opens. The announcer - clearly Uncle Bobby with the reverb turned up - says "Introducing Bimbo the Birthday Clown.  And Son of Happy." - WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN? What's Son of Happy? That always bothered me. ]

Anyway – then Bimbo the cardboard birthday clown – literally a creepy circus clown on cardboard with flapping ears and a crumpled handful of tinsel flapping on his hat – would sing the Bimbo song with a soulless chipmunk falsetto while his demonic cardboard eyes darted back and forth. I won’t even go into the song. You know the song. We all know the song. But what this clip reminded me of was the Jim Reeves vocal on the Bingo song that I’d forgotten about, but which really fills out the bottom.

Once Bimbo sang his song, Uncle Bobby would again take control. Next up – we meet Birthday Bunny and Birthday Bunny’s friend. They are the most primitive fabric and wood cone puppets – something Bobby picked up in the gift shop of a European hotel and glued to Bimbo’s chest. Birthday Bunny’s friend is so primitive, it doesn’t even get a name. Every week Uncle Bobby would lean in close to hear their meek voices whisper their secret message and every week it was the same stupid exact “Have a happy day, even if you didn’t have a birthday.” Dammit Birthday Bunny and Birthday Bunny’s friend – we all heard the same secret message dozens of times. We all saw it coming every week. How about switching it the fuck up now and then? You’re why Uncle Bobby got cancelled!

Anyhoo – then a family of knitted dolls would fall from the ceiling on elastic strings. It was almost as if by interacting with Birthday Bunny and BBF, something in Uncle Bobby’s universe triggered the release of the knitted doll family from the ceiling. As a child, I never knew the names of these puppets and I found this frustrating. From this video they appear to be:

• Big Daddy. Who Uncle Bobby also calls a big boy, which seems contradictory. He also calls him Happy and Mr. Happy.
• Mrs. Happy, or Henrietta. This would make her Mrs. Henrietta Happy.
• And then Wilson, Keppel and Betty, who were all attached. “Betty’s the one in the middle”

Then, Happy Birthday. Uncle Bobby and the Birthday Picker would start it off with a Rockette-style kick, then everyone would sing Happy Birthday right up until the second last line – when everyone would stop so that the largest knitted doll (Big Daddy?) could sing Happy Birthday AGAIN from the beginning, alone this time, in an even creepier, even chipmunkier voice (yes, that’s a word), with Uncle Bobby making Mr. Happy kiss Mrs. Happy after each line of the song.

[Another aside - I have questions. Who were all these puppets? Why were they each involved in the birthday thing each week? How long were the Happys married? Why did Uncle Bobby make them kiss? Why were their kids attached? For that matter - who was Birthday Bunny's friend, really? I think that Uncle Bobby really failed to develop the back story to his characters. He couldn't get away with that these days.]

And then “Don’t forget to kick” – one more line kick. Cue the Lawrence Welk singers. Birthday Picker blows into the noisemaker. And then Uncle Bobby would swing the whole knitted family back up up up into the sky. I always imagined some P.A. furiously hauling it back up to the rafters while those evil dolls giggled maniacally, mocking us all.

Uncle Bobby. Kinda creepy.

Straw hat off. Uncle Bobby woud take this week’s letters from Bimbo’s pocket, and put them in the volunteer’s hat. Uncle Bobby tells Birthday Picker to yell “Fanfare Please.” Birthday Picker yells “Fanfare Please.” Cue canned fanfare. Birthday Picker then, eyes closed, selects a single letter from the several in the hat and hands it to Uncle Bobby. Darlene’s work is done. Nice job Darlene.

For a child, writing a letter is a huge deal. For the trouble of writing Uncle Bobby a letter – an actual ink and paper letter with a stamp from a child – Uncle Bobby would announce the name, town and age of a single writer from the pile. That’s it – Jeannette Huff from Pickering Ontario is Five. That’s it. Cue the address card. Screw you Jeannette. What a rip off.

I always thought that Uncle Bobby was low-rent, not funny or even fun really, and bordering on sad and creepy. But there it was on CTV for 15 years from 1964-1979, and even longer in reruns – and it seemed to always be aired in a programming dead zone with nothing else on – so I watched it.

Did anyone actually love this show? Any Bobbysoxers out there?

You know that Gerry Todd can do no wrong in my eyes. And as circular as this argument is, his endorsement of this video is enough to make it worthy.

But I wonder how Rick Moranis feels about this nugget today? Ipanema Rap circa 1989. Was it prescient insightful parody of early hip hop culture? Or the most awkward and uncomfortable Girl from Ipanema cover ever -- delivered by two white guys who seem to be satirizing rap but getting their wardrobe from Spandau Ballet.

Rick? Are you out there?

Starring a fro’d and funky Alex Trebek, Pitfall ran for one season from 1981-82 and was shot in Vancouver. Pitfall required players to answer questions under pressure while avoiding falling down lethal elevator shafts. We remember watching this as a kid and totally catching Trebek reading the questions super-slow to sabotage players chances of winning like, $500. It’s hard to believe that any Canadian game show production budget could finance the heavy-duty game apparatus (although I bet it’s just one guy running backstage from forklift to forklift -- dropping the players when Alex rubs his moustache.

This one stars Dan the hockey player!

I was never a huge Beachcombers fan. But I always loved the opening, and one can’t help but be humbled by its landmark position in Canadian pop culture. The longest running dramatic series in Canadian history -- 387 episodes.

Bruno Gerussi is the only moustached Canadian icon I can think of. Oh -- Burton Cummings. And Jack Layton. And Suzuki has a goatee. Never mind.

Yay Beachcombers!