there are productive ways to spend an evening.

this was not one of them.

the crime scene

Real Talkin’ Bubba — mid-90s Tyco plush, motor mouth, overalls… and a southern foghorn-leghorn-esque smart-aleck voice that will not shut up. not a gentle bedtime bear. this was the toy mom and dad would yoink the batteries out of when we weren’t looking.

he says a lot of things… over 200, in fact. most of them are sass. some of them are demands. a few of them are the kind of line that lodges in your brain like a splinter and waits twenty plus years to demand a soundboard.

the two hours

i did not “sample” Bubba in some elegant archival way (but if you can actually extract raw files from one of these little beasts, let’s talk –> xyz@ohnoai.dev)

i clipped.

notification-length takes. start clean. end clean. no dead air if i could help it. the kind of files you can drop on a phone alert and immediately regret when your bank app opens with are ya gunna let me talk??.

filenames, because bureaucracy is how we prove suffering happened:

• hey
• go on
• let me talk
• wiggle my head
• fluff the whole thing (the long one. of course there is a long one.)

the board

so of course there is a board now.

Real Talkin’ Bubba soundboard →

five pads, a stop button, and a bear who still thinks he’s runnin’ shit.

footnote or whatever

this is a fan clip toy of a commercial toy. Bubba belongs to whoever owns the Tyco/Mattel chain of custody these days. the board is a personal shrine with headphones optional and volume advice mandatory if you live with other humans.

if you came here for a spreadsheet: wrong blog.

if you came here because a plush said something mean in 1996 and you never recovered: welcome. tap go on.

#brainspam #toys #soundboard #90s