Keeping With The Earworm Theme…G.I Joe! G.I.Joe!

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You remember that, right?

Back when G.I. Joe wasn’t something you could lose under the couch in five seconds… it was a full-blown 12-inch soldier you could actually hold onto. That’s what I grew up with. My dad was a Marine, so yeah, there was no question I was getting one. But let me tell you, on a Marine’s pay, those accessories might as well have been locked up in Fort Knox (with Joe guarding it). You made do with what you had… and honestly, it didn’t matter.

Now here’s something people don’t always think about… G.I. Joe first came out in 1964, and not long after, the mood in the country started shifting. You started hearing more anti-war sentiment as the years went on. They didn’t dwell on it in the toy aisle, but you could feel the change happening in the background.

And yeah… they were already calling it an “action figure” when I got mine, I think it was 1966, and I remember that so well because my older brother wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. He kept busting me, telling me I was playing with dolls. And I’d fire right back every time, “It’s not a doll, it’s an action figure!” Didn’t matter how many times I said it… I wasn’t winning that battle.

Because those big Joes just felt right. These weren’t little plastic guys either. They were about a foot tall and had real cloth uniforms you could swap out (my wife is ribbing me just now, saying she was able to do that with her Barbie and Ken dolls). If you were lucky enough to have the gear, you could outfit them for just about anything. And they took off like a rocket. First year, around 16.9 million dollars in sales. Next year, over 36 million. That’s big money for back then. These things were everywhere… every kid knew what G.I. Joe was.

Now I get why they eventually made them smaller. Those big figures weren’t cheap to make, and by the 70s, things were changing. Then Star Wars hit in ’77 and flipped the whole toy world on its head. Smaller figures, vehicles, playsets… suddenly, you could build an entire world instead of just having one guy. From a business standpoint, it made total sense. Cheaper to make, more to sell.

But here’s the thing… it just wasn’t the same.

And I know exactly what you mean when you say it’s hard to explain. Those 12-inch Joes had some weight to them. They felt more real. The cloth uniforms made a difference. It was like you had your one guy, and you were sending him out on missions. The smaller ones were fun, no doubt, but they felt more like pieces of a bigger set instead of your figure.

So let me ask you…

Am I the only one who feels this way, or did those full-size G.I. Joes just hit different?

And be honest… were you one of the lucky ones with all the accessories… or were you like me, arguing with your brother that it wasn’t a doll while still making it work with what you had and having a blast anyway?

Is the jingle stuck in your head now?

🚂 Why the Choo Choo Charlie Jingle Still Lives Rent-Free in Your Head

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How many of you can still hear it without even trying?

“Choo Choo Charlie was an engineer…”

And just like that, you’re off. The whole song starts playing in your head like it never left.

The jingle for Good & Plenty is one of those rare pieces of advertising that didn’t just sell a product—it burned itself into generations of memories. And there’s actually a reason it worked so well.

First, it’s built like a nursery rhyme. The rhythm is simple, repetitive, and easy to follow, just like the songs you learn as a kid. That kind of structure makes it incredibly easy for your brain to store and recall, even decades later.

Then there’s the melody. It moves in a steady, almost train-like cadence—chugging along just like Charlie’s engine. That wasn’t an accident. The beat mimics motion, so your brain connects the sound with the visual of a train, reinforcing it every time you hear it.

Repetition played a huge role too. The commercials didn’t just play the jingle once—they leaned into it. Same tune, same structure, over and over again. Instead of getting annoying, it became familiar, and familiarity is exactly what makes something stick.

And maybe the biggest reason? It tells a story. In just a few lines, you get a character, a setting, and a payoff. Choo Choo Charlie isn’t just singing—he’s winning. His candy-powered train beats the competition, and that little narrative gives your brain something to latch onto beyond just the music.

Put it all together—simple rhythm, memorable melody, repetition, and a tiny story—and you’ve got the perfect formula for something that sticks with you for life.

That’s why, even today, people who haven’t seen those commercials in 40 or 50 years can still sing it like they just heard it yesterday.

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