Duke at some point must have turned to Gung-Ho and asked “Just what the hell is your deal, anyway?”

Gung-Ho. The man, the myth, the legend. Did he get his G.I. Joe uniform on the day they accidentally handed out Village People costumes? Is Duke’s sideways glance because he’s a little put off by his bare-chested compadre using the word “lick”? “Are you Amish? Do you not believe in buttons? GET SOME. THAT’S AN ORDER.” A Real American Hero indeed.

The tough-as-nails original G.I. Joes surely wondered what happened to their squad.

I remember these old F.H.E. videocassettes. Not to quibble with Scarlett, but I had a few of the Transformers editions, and, adjusted to 2012 dollars, they cost roughly 500 bucks each ($39.95 for a couple hours of content — still less of a jip than the ticket I bought to Dark of the Moon). Oblivious as most kids are to finances, I could never figure out why my parents weren’t eager to shell out cash for more and more tapes of shows that were on TV every afternoon after school. But Mom and Dad, how am I supposed to study with Talmudic intensity the one where the Decepticons build the space bridge to Cybertron?