"LET THE DARK HARVEST BEGIN!!!"

The Mitchells vs. the Machines (2021)

I love The Mitchells vs. the Machines. Written by Michael Rianda and Jeff Rowe, the movie’s wacky energy is exactly my speed. The grounded family story at the center of a robot apocalypse is something I wish I had written. And the protagonist Katie Mitchell (Abbi Jacobson), a young Michigander on a road trip to California to pursue her filmmaking career and find her “people”, is very relatable to me. This movie makes me laugh and cry every time I watch it. It’s also full of silly jokes, and one of my favorites involves a giant sentient Furby.

“THEN SO BE IT…LET THE DARK HARVEST BEGIN!!!”

Growing up in the 90s meant I played with my fair share of weird, fun toys. Tamagotchis, Sock’em Boppers, VideoNow — an early portable DVD player that allowed you to watch a single black and white Fairly Oddparents episode. It was a wild time. But one of the weirdest toys was unquestionably the Furby.

A Furby looks like a PT Barnum curiosity from the 19th century — built from the parts of several different animals in an attempt to trick the American public into believing in a newly discovered species. Furbies were known to wake up on their own in the middle of the night, and despite being so popular, they gained a reputation for being pretty darn creepy. So it feels kind of perfect that writers Rianda and Lowe would turn Furbies into these cute, demonic creatures declaring the “twilight of man” and “dark harvest” in their Furbish language. It’s the culmination of every 90s kid’s worst nightmares.

When I was in grade school, our principal was on a constant mission to suppress any fad that could potentially cause distractions in the classroom. When Pokémon cards got too popular, they were banned. Then Digimon cards took their place. They were banned. Then Crazy Bones. Banned. Yu-Gi-Oh. Banned. It was whack-a-mole for kids’ collectibles. When the noisy Tamagotchis had their moment, they never stood a chance. And that was a problem, because back then you couldn’t pause or turn off your Tamagotchi. If you left it home while you were at school all day, it would just die. Permanently. A single digital life with the manufacturer recommended age of 8 and up.

I was desperate not to condemn my Tamagotchi to a neglectful end. And that’s when my dad pulled out some real parental heroics. For months he would bring my Tamagotchi with him to work, feeding it and cleaning its virtual poop while I was at school. It was the 90s, so I’m sure that little electronic egg had no volume controls, just beeping loudly and often in his office cubicle. A tiny little 4-bit monster slowly wreaking havoc on him and his coworkers.

In writing this post, I found an article from another person whose parents also brought their Tamagotchi to work with them.¹ And there’s something really heartwarming about knowing that I wasn’t the only kid to have this experience. It makes me wonder just how many 90s parents know the feeling of feeding a Tamagotchi on their lunch break, and how many 90s kids know the feeling of handing off their Tamagotchis before school with a list of pet care instructions.

I talked in my last post about the value of doing something silly for myself. But I think doing something silly for someone else can be even more meaningful. My dad caring for my Tamagotchi is objectively ridiculous, and I’ll always love that he did it.

Here’s another silly joke for the road:

1. https://slate.com/technology/2014/11/parents-taking-care-of-my-tamagotchi-during-work-thanksgiving-2014.html