Randy

My name is Randy, and I am the world’s foremost collector of amusement park memorabilia spools of admission tickets in red, white, blue

That includes thousands of pinball machines

I have millions of dollars in Monopoly-themed pinball machine (2001) where you bounce between the Bank, Free Parking, Park Place, and Jail

I worked for machines in lieu of pay The Original BIMBO 3-Ring Circus game (1981) with Bimbo the singing clown; you press buttons to control Bimbo’s arms and legs; songs Bimbo sings for you include Yankee Doodle, Oh Susannah, The Farmer in the Dell

I sacrificed inside the Rifle Gallery game (1961), a bulls eye surrounded by two clowns; one sad, one happy; men in work clothes paint numbers on the side of the box; these men can be shot in the leg

My biggest problem is I don’t have enough Speed Shift racing games (1974) with a steering wheel you can actually turn

I have another 20 tractor-trailers sitting in an airport that I pay storage on Men’s Room game with life-size men cardboard figures peeing; all different types of men from cowboy to farmer to business man to vacation guy; you squirt hoses and the men fall down

I’m collecting because this is who I am original PacMan game (1980) where you move through a maze of dots, eating the dots, trying to avoid being touched by a ghost

When you spend all your time working on machines, you don’t have as much time for Set Up pinball machine (1969) that shows smiling women skiing down a mountain; you bounce wildly from one skier to another

I don’t have kids giant gold Buddha

I don’t have a wife black and white portrait of Bela Lugosi as Dracula

Machines are my friends Randy sparking the wires inside a dead machine to bring it back to life

It would hurt me to sell of even one row of thirty Silver Ghost slot machines

It’s like losing a child toy claw machine filled with stuffed baby monkeys hugging bananas

If I sold the machines and took the money, I would no longer be the same man I am today Sonic Blast Man arcade game where you save a woman from a bad guy, prevent a baby carriage from rolling onto the freeway, stop terrorists, stop a crab from taking over a cruise ship, stop an asteroid from destroying the earth

I wasn’t the popular kid in school unicycle

I was basically picked on Rifle Range first person shooter (1934)

But my parents were very good to me ATM machine

They gave me a lot of money to play in the arcades, and it was almost like an escape for me from school sign that says THIS WAY TO CINDERELLA CASTLE

You’d get to play the same machines all the time Cosmic Gun Fight pinball machine (1982); you rocket through a space vortex of cosmic cowboys on mechanical horses shooting guns

Each machine has a certain personality game where you throw something into a toilet and a light goes off and you win a Minion

You get a certain rapport with that Zoltan fortune telling machine

The machine and you, year after year Alpine Club pinball machine (1965) which depicts a snowy mountain; you advance the summit in order to win

It’s like coming down to the shore and seeing your old friend two identical laughing mannequins in turtlenecks sitting across from each other

I’ve created my own Randyquins, Randy duplicates, Randy wannabees sign that says UNBELIEVABLE next to a row of forty shirtless Randyquins sitting on pinball machines

I’ve created my own Randyland Enchanted Tiki Room display from Walt Disney World with Randyquin mannequin heads tucked between tropical plants and tiki gods

The intention is to re-create an experience that once was crib hanging from the ceiling with a sign that says BABY RANDY’S CRIB; inside the crib is Sylvester holding Tweety, red devil with horns, Wiley Coyote, Porky Pig

You can’t be in every place at the same time, but this is the next best thing 1950’s style ice cream parlor with a Randyquin behind the counter in an apron and a bunch of Randyquin heads in the ice cream case

You clone yourself cotton candy containers of Randy’s hair for sale

You have to reproduce yourself churro machine with a Randyquin head inside

I’m all around carved into the back of every Randyquin’s neck, RANDYLAND