Why Am I Trying To Restore A Beta Player?

What am I doing with my life? I just spent an hour carefully tearing down a Sanyo Betacord VCR that I found at the thrift store in an attempt to figure out why the tape loading mechanism and playback drive are FUBAR. All of that effort was put forth just to find out that a belt had melted on the counter assembly and made a real fucking mess of things inside this unit. On top of that, I just found out that this particular model video cassette recorder is near impossible to find a belt kit for. Seems that every other Sanyo Betacord unit going all the way back to 1979 has a service parts kit available, but for some reason the VCR 4200, made in 1982, does not. But that's not the worst part about this whole purchase/repair/obsession fiasco. The worst part was the sudden realization that for some reason, I am actually dedicating time (and contemplating spending money) trying to repair a Beta tape player made in 1982, just so I can watch recorded episodes of Wishbone and possibly some Ghostwriter. Also, when I consulted YouTube for some visual instruction on disassembling the tape load mech, every narrator and/or Beta enthusiast seems to be, well, to put it nicely, a socially awkward basement nerd. Fuck. I am becoming one of them. One of the Beta enthusiasts. The scary thing is the fact that the $450 professionally refurbished Beta players I found online don't even seem like an unreasonable option to me at the moment. The cost to awesome ratio calculations keep coming back highly favorable of the restored Betamax. So, for now I am going piece this 4200 back together, put it away until I can weigh my options, and then immediately freeze my credit card in a block of ice, lest I end up with a crisp, mint condition, fully refurbished, fully warrantied Beta VCR. Hey, loyal readers, do you have a Beta player you want to get rid of? If you don't, maybe you want to raid your older family members' houses and find me one. Yeah, that seems like something you want to do, right? Find one. Please? (I currently have one pending lead and am scouring EVERY thrift store I can find)

case open

drive motors and belts

I'll never remember how all this shit goes back together anyways

Beta Tapes: How Shall I Play Thee?

So, I have this pile of Beta tapes that are begging to be played. Ok, wait, before I get too deep into this nonsensical story of failure and regret, let me address the readers who may not have heard of Beta tapes. Once upon a time, in a much simpler world, two formats of home video were locked in an epic struggle to become the dominant force in home entertainment. In one corner we had VHS, the bloated, oversized cassette of inferior quality. In the other, we had Beta, a sleek, high quality cassette system capable of near Bluray quality video reproduction. For some reason (most conspiracy theorists blame it on the porn industry's silent endorsement of the VHS format) VHS won the battle and rendered Beta all but obsolete in the realm of cassette based home video.  It was kinda like the Bluray vs. HDDVD format battle of the early millennium but set in the eighties. Got it? On the same page? If you are still lost, consult wikipedia, I have it set as a drop down feature at the top of the page. Ok, so as I was saying, I have all these Beta tapes and no way to play them. This hasn't been an issue to me for neigh on 15 years now. These Beta tapes were filed away deep in my memory and all but forgotten. But, as it so happens, I wandered upon a Beta player at the Habitat for Humanity store today. I walked out of that bish with a Beta player for $3. Three 'murican dollars, y'all. I was so fucking hyped that I sped right home, right past several other thrift establishments, because I was ready to set up this wood grained abomination and watch some Beta tapes. Let me preface this by saying that these are no ordinary tapes. These aren't some stupid movies that I could find on Netflix and load up instantly, these Beta tapes contain elusive programming that are all but extinct. We are talking about Wishbone, dammit. I have nearly every episode of Wishbone recorded on Beta tape, ripped right from WHRO 15. I am dying to see this Jack Russell Terrier give me synopses of books I am too lazy to read. Ever see a dog battle a windmill a la the Man of LaMancha? I have. And I want to see it again. But, as fate would have it, this Beta player is FUBAR. It ate my copy of the Color of Money, too. But I will just write that off as a sacrifice to the gods of video cassette. However, this whole situation has me irrationally upset. I mean, yesterday, not a single fuck could have been given about these Beta tapes. But today? That shit is top priority. I will have a Beta player. And I will have it soon. Get Beta or Die Tryin'. New album me and Fiddy 'bout to drop. Exclusively at Best Buy. Beta tapes: how shall I play thee?

Wait, a McWhat?

Ever heard of a McGangbang? Well if you have, holy shit, why didn't you tell me about this underground sandwich phenomenon? C'mon, I thought we were bros. For those of you who haven't heard of a McGangbang (and don't feel bad because I hadn't either as of May 2013), it is a Dollar Menu Frankenstein mash-up monster sandwich that can be had for the measly pittance of only two American dollars. To achieve such levels of culinary perfection, one must simply visit the nearest McDonald's franchise, order a McDouble and a McChicken off of the Dollar Menu, laterally dissect your McDouble at the union of meat patties, and slip an entire McChicken sandwich betwixt the resulting halves. Boom. Dollar Menunaire, son!

Photo Courtesy of mcdonaldssecretmenu.com

I still can't fathom how this masterpiece of frugal self destruction has flown below my radar for all these years. According to my research, this sandwich had it's own MySpace page dedicated to it. A fucking MySpace page, people. It might as well have been written into scripture with chronological clout like that. A McGanbang. Elegant sandwich, moderately disturbing name. Go forth and assemble these monstrosities en masse, we owe it to the world to spread the word of the McGangbang. I suggest going door to door on mountain bike with McGangbang pamphlets. People seem to be generally receptive of any tri-folded forms of print media.

The Land of Obsolete and Forgotten Things

For as long as I can remember, I have always had a soft spot for things that everyone else cast away as unusable trash. My quest to save obsolete goods started early in life. I can remember shimmying my way up into the attic as a wee lad of five to recover a Sony Turntable that had been packed away and rendered obsolete by the advent of Compact Disc. Oh, it was a glorious feeling, the feeling of rescuing an artifact, I was like a little Indiana Jones recovering precious chunks of history from the hands of evil. Here in my possession was a completely functional piece of electronic equipment that was tossed aside simply because of a technology that was newer and more exciting. After I hooked it up to an old analog stereo receiver, I loaded up an album (a Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass album to be exact) and dropped the needle on that spinning black disc of vinyl. Nothing could match that crackle and pop of the needle tracking dead grooves on it’s way to the first track. Once the needle tracked and fired off the sounds of Herb Alpert’s brass ensemble, I instantly fell in love with vinyl. Still to this day I maintain a record player and a selection of classics on vinyl. Something about the crackle of dust hitting the needle and the variable pitch of a warped record brings me back to a childhood spent watching records turn and turn as they pumped the sound of Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band out of a pair of grotesquely large and out of style Kenwood speakers.

Ol' Herb the Lady Killer

But vinyl was merely a gateway drug for me. It led me to a harder lifestyle of preserving Betamax players and tracking down Beta tapes from any thrift store accessible to a child via BMX bike. Later on in life, when Laser Disc fell out of favor with the techno-snobs, I scooped up a player and as many peripheral goods as I could get. Soon after that I was onto vintage video game systems. Ataris, Sega Master Systems, NES, any old console and game I could put my hands on was happily hoarded away in my room, which at that time served as the Land of Obsolete and Forgotten Things. Even when I got a drivers licence, my car choice was impacted by my desire to save the cast off and unwanted. I bought a 1980 Ford Fairmont Futura that had a date with the crusher. Yep, I rocked out a 1980 Ford Fairmont from the junkyard. Yep, it had a functional 8-track player. Yep, it was a chick repellent. But it was another thing saved from the jaws of destruction.

My old 1980 Ford Fairmont. Photo circa 2002.

I wish I could say that I grew out of this compulsion to save obsolete goods, but you will find my home no better off than my old childhood bedroom. I have a whole room cluttered with old Polaroid Land Cameras, 35mm cameras, video game consoles, typewriters, musty old books from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s, old comic books, and ac adapters of every possible voltage and current. I can’t drive by a trash pile or a garage sale without having to slow down and visually inventory possible scores and saves. Fuck. I just realized that I am one of those people you see on Hoarders. Well, I guess if you don’t hear from me for a couple of years, send a camera crew, a psychologist, and a crew of shovelers to dig me out of my mountain of saved treasures. How ironic would it be to have been killed by the very items you sought to save from destruction?

Can it be saved?