Pretty soon I will no longer be able to achieve my No. 4 lifetime goal. Oh sure, I'll still have the chance to accomplish my other aims, such as owning a condominium (No. 3), opening for Scatman (No. 2) and being the next Goodyear blimp (No. 1), but in June, Bob Barker is retiring from "The Price Is Right." And because the program will no doubt end soon after, from then on I will never be able to get onto the show and complete my No. 4 lifetime goal, which is to bet $2 after the guy before me bets $1, because I think that is one of the funniest things ever.
In a unique flashbulb memory, I can remember perfectly where I was when I heard about Bob's plan to retire, as well as how I felt, what everybody else wore and, especially, how strangely they looked at me when I broke into uncontrollable tears. It also helps that I heard about it 10 minutes ago, and if I can't remember what happened 10 minutes ago, I've become just as forgetful as Bob Barker.
If you've watched the show in the last 20-odd years, you know what I mean. One especially bad moment will forever be etched in my memory: while telling audience members (like he literally did during every show) about how they should go home now, without stopping for water, without even breathing, to go neuter their pets and any elderly people that might be living with them, he stopped talking and stared to his left. I could understand this action if there were something exciting happening in the corner of the building, but the only interesting occurrence was a contestant urinating herself because she had just spun 90 cents on the giant wheel. Bob looked like a zombie, and his golden parchment-like skin did not help. Then, out of nowhere, he turned toward the woman and said in a saddened tone, "Sorry, Betsy, that's not the right answer."
First of all, the giant wheel doesn't involve questions to get wrong. Secondly, the contestant's name was Mary, as evidenced by her personalized shirt, which read "My name is Mary, so Marry me, Bob." So where did he get the name? Did it have to do with a long-a-go fling with a "Betsy" that he had to end because, in a moment of naivety, she over-bet Showcase No. 1? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, I don't blame him for such an outburst. I know when I'm that age (83), I'm going to have recurring flashbacks all the time.
In all seriousness, seeing him leave will be very sad. The nostalgic 11 a.m. time slot was a pivotal part of my summers growing up. It was Bob who taught me the important values in life: dedication, amiability and whether a coffee machine's price begins with a six or a seven.
Moreover, I learned true sympathy watching one meek female contestant win a pristine Harley Davidson Motorcycle, and the next contestant, a manly man's man with biceps comparable to Greyhound buses, win a pink calligraphy set with matching panties. Those were the only true male tears I have ever seen.
The reason I watched the show so much as a kid was because all the contestants on the program always looked like they were having a good time, and this happiness was in perfect opposition to me watching all alone, with my yellow and purple Rugrats pajamas still on, my friends suddenly too cool to hang out with someone wearing Rugrats pajamas. "Chris," they would say in a mocking voice, "you're 20. And in college. Stop wearing that."
If you think about it, though, what about the show is actually that interesting? Why are we so enticed by people guessing the price of grocery store items? Especially considering that because of their over-the-top exuberance and fairly dumb price guesses ("Bob, I'd say that stack of 13-cent pancakes is worth $600.") we were more annoyed with the contestants than in support of them. I think the answer rests in Bob Barker. Just like how we watch NASCAR races in the hope of massive car pile-ups, we watch "The Price is Right" to see if this will be the episode during which Bob finally snaps. It's been so many years coming. I can see him ripping the giant wheel off its hinges and squashing any contestants whose peppiness has begun to annoy him. Then, if his heart hasn't stopped beating, he would pound his chest and run through the wall, leaving a Bob Barker-shaped hole.
That has obviously not happened. But mark my words, sometime in June, right before he retires, Bob is going to snap. And although this will mean no No. 4 lifetime goal, if I watch somebody get crushed by that giant "The Price is Right" wheel, I can finally cross my No. 12 lifetime goal off my list.
Chris Shuptrine's column runs biweekly on Monday's. He can be reached at cshuptrine@cavalierdaily.com
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