October 11, 2005:
In its infancy, X-E was partly built on paying tribute to the "secondary toy lines" of the `80s, those being the various collections that never quite "hit" in the same way as a Transformers or a G.I. Joe, but were nonetheless cool enough for this filthy webmassa to carry a torch for 'em all through his life. I'd like to think that when I began writing about such things, it wasn't a cliche. There weren't any VH1 specials to serve as Cliff's Notes. Then the storm hit, and between everything from a He-Man revival to a Game Boy that looked like an '80s Nintendo, old was new and old was in. I kind of have the sense that the fad's dying out now, as all fads eventually do. At least in terms of what I'm personally interested in, I don't think there's as many people clamoring for articles on Sectaurs or Super Naturals as there were even two years ago. I'm not sure if that makes me happy or sad, but it's not going to change the fact that I love these stupid things enough to blow my last free afternoon before another workweek writing about them. So hey...Boglins!
In 2000, I wrote a shitty article about Boglins, the glorious rubber puppets that jumped from the swamp onto our willing hands. Sold in boxes designed like cages, Boglins were presented as monstrous "pets" that were indeed pretty lifelike for creatures that were in no way based on any real animal. My first experiences with the beasts came by way of a gift my brother received when he graduated college -- a Boglin. You might be wondering why a college graduate would receive the gift of a Boglin, but this alone explains why it was so easy for me to usurp the rights. Unlike the figures we'll be talking about today, his Boglin was rather small. I fell in love with the rubbery texture, the stretchy material and the fact that it was the only puppet I've ever had that didn't require a degree in marionettism to do cool stuff with.
There were many different Boglins available, in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some were even patterned after lobsters, but most looked more like the love children of frogs and goblins. With an always-creepy motif, it's easy to understand why Mattel sought to capitalize on the line's themes with special edition Halloween Boglins -- bigger, better and badder than the rest. There were two available, and arguably, they're the two most-sought artifacts from the entire line. At least, that would explain why they cost so much more than the other Boglins on eBay.
The figure shown above is my pride and joy, a boxed "Blobkin" with jack-o'-lantern features. Even if you were the kind of kid who didn't hold onto toy packaging, there was no way you were going to throw away a box like that. Made of heavyweight cardboard with plastic bars, your Boglin seemed perfectly happy to be all caged up and prisoner-like. And if he wasn't? Too bad. That box was way too cool to throw away.
The Halloween Boglins fell into the "deluxe" category, meaning that in addition to the normal puppetry goodness that all Boglins shared, there was also a lever with which puppeteers could make their eyes rotate independently of each other, like...what is it...a Jackson's Chameleon? Deluxe Boglins also had far larger and more defined arms than the smaller versions, not to mention tails large enough to whip a kitten halfway across the living room.
It's fairly difficult to find a Boglin in decent shape if it isn't still packaged; the rubber used was somewhat degradable, and since the whole point of the toys was to constantly touch and stretch 'em, most of the surviving, unpackaged Boglins look rather "chewed." The paint detail is the first to die off, but I've seen a few with decay to such levels that even half of their arms managed to wither away. Blobkin is in as good shape as one could hope for, all things considered, and I think he knows it, because he keeps throwing me his "pretty glance." Right back at ya, sexy.
In a statement more based on theorizing than relaying facts, I'd say that Boglins weren't the kind of toys most kids actually "collected." For the most part, if you had one, you had your fill. Still, Mattel did everything in their power to make owning several Boglins more attractive. Aside from each bearing a different color pattern with slight changes in body design, every Boglins came with a "Species Tag," detailing the specifics. In this we learn that a particular Boglin's name wasn't so much something its parents gave him when he plopped on out, but rather, it's the name of their "species." Boglins is a genus, Blobkin is a species. Understand? From the "Bogologist Observations," I've also learned what to feed Blobkin (spiders and candy bars), and if he's ever looking downtrodden or pissy, I know that we're just one trick-or-treat march away from a happy face.
As cool as Halloween Boglins are, they remind us that market research wasn't then what it is now. It's not so much that they made Boglins that were arguably only attractive to kids for one month out of the year, but the fact that they made these particular Boglins the most advanced and expensive of the collection certainly warrants questioning. This could explain why the two Halloween Boglins are among the collection's most-rare, but everything I'm saying should by no means be taken as a complaint. The fact that Halloween Boglins exist thrills me, but the fact that they were the best Boglins of all makes me feel so privileged to run a Halloween Countdown. There aren't many people who can justify buying one of these. I mean, seriously -- I can write this shit off next April. You haven't lived until you've sent Uncle Sam a receipt for a 1988 Halloween Boglin. Damn the man.
Just to prove that they were serious about this Halloween business, Mattel went so far as to include special trick-or-treat sacks with each Halloween Boglin. Holy Christ, I've never been this excited over a plastic bag, ever. The sack was immense, featuring both Blobkin and the other Halloween Boglin (we'll get to him in a sec) riding a witch's broom. So large is the bag that I'm having trouble picturing any normal-sized kid actually being able to use it. The thing's about the same length as most elementary schooler's legs. It also features several suspicious punched-out holes; either there's some technical justification dealing with the amount of extra weight a plastic bag can handle when it has strategically placed holes, or someone at Mattel found unending amusement in hole punchers.
Maybe it was just a way to keep children from suffocating. They were always doing that back then.
I've been mentioning all too often that there were two Halloween Boglins, and the other is my absolute #1 favorite of any figure in the collection. "Bog-O-Bones" was his name, having a cool ass freaky skull pattern was his game. Strikingly different from his fellow Boglins with a white/black motif (no other Boglin looked anything like this), Bog-O-Bones wore his pride on his sleeve with a facial expression that screamed "I'm the best," and if you're envisioning that in a Super Mario voice, take it down a few.
Bog-O-Bones was essentially Blobkin with a different color scheme, and since both came with those life-changing trick-or-treat sacks, it really just came down to whether you found more joy in pumpkins or skeletons. The Halloween Boglins may be the most sought, and while it's true that they're the rarest of the "normal" Boglins, it should be noted that the series continued on a limited basis in the States up until the early `90s, and even beyond that, the collection lived on in Europe. Along the way, several variations on the classic puppets were introduced, including everything from tiny plastic Boglins that came packaged with a toy toilet (Toylet?) and a can of slime. I much prefer the originals, especially when they come in boxes that say "Halloween" all over them.
Click here to see me get naked and have sex with the top of a three-liter bottle of Pepsi.
- Matt (10/11/05)
One year ago on the Halloween Countdown:
The Electronic Hovering Bat!
Two years ago on the Halloween Countdown:
Gummy. Candy. Corn.
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