I remember watching this commercial as a kid, surprised that Jed smoked. I think we all knew Granny smoked, along with her moonshine.
What would Granny, Jed, Jethro, Ellie May, and Miss Jane be promoting today?
I remember watching this commercial as a kid, surprised that Jed smoked. I think we all knew Granny smoked, along with her moonshine.
What would Granny, Jed, Jethro, Ellie May, and Miss Jane be promoting today?
Before the internet gave us endless cat videos, we had to take them wherever we could get them, and sometimes that meant a Purina Cat Chow commercial. This old ad feels almost like the Joe Weider offers in the back of comic books, where you were always being promised something special if you paid attention, mailed away, or bought the product.
It amazes me how we hear a sound, song, or even a phrase like “It’s Shake and Bake and I Helped in an adorable southern accent. No real story comes to mind for me. How about you?
I remember wanting Mouse Trap so bad because it looked so cool in the commercial. What kid wouldn’t want their very own Rube Goldberg machine right there on the kitchen table?
Mouse Trap came out in 1963, and the whole attraction wasn’t just the board game itself. It was that crazy contraption you built while playing. The crank, the gears, the marble, the bathtub, the diving man, the cage, and all those little plastic pieces that had to line up just right. On TV, it looked like the greatest thing ever invented.
The neighbor kid had one, we played it, and I was excited to try it for real. It was fun, but I’ll be honest, it wasn’t quite as exciting as I had built it up to be in my head. Maybe it needed that wacky music from the commercial playing in the background! Without the TV magic, it was still a neat game, but the commercial may have sold it better than the actual game.
Still, you have to give Mouse Trap credit. Every kid who saw that commercial wanted to see that trap go off. Whether it worked perfectly or needed a little help, it was one of those games that made you say, “I want that!”
Back in our day, we had breakfast with clowns, and somehow nobody thought that was strange.
Post Sugar Rice Krinkles was one of those cereals that could only come from that golden age of Saturday morning television, when cereal companies put sugar right in the name and then sent a clown on TV to tell us it was part of a good breakfast. The cereal itself was a sweetened crisp rice cereal from Post, but the real memory-jogger was Krinkles the Clown, who showed up in those early commercials with that classic 1950s “fun for kids, slightly terrifying for adults” energy.
Looking back now, it is funny how normal that all seemed. We had clowns selling cereal, puppets selling chocolate, cartoon animals selling everything else, and we just sat there in our pajamas eating it all up before the cartoons came on. Sugar Rice Krinkles may be long gone, but it sits right in that strange and wonderful cereal aisle of our memories, back when breakfast was sweet, the commercials were catchy, and apparently clowns were welcome at the table.
You ever look back at some of these old commercials and just shake your head?
This is one of those for me… the one where they made a big deal about a cigarette being just a little bit longer. We’re talking a millimeter… something you’d need a ruler to even notice. But back then? They sold it like it was a game changer.
Even as a kid I remember thinking, wait… that’s it? But the way they presented it, you’d think you were looking at a luxury item. Zoomed in shots, side-by-side comparisons, and that smooth voiceover selling the idea like it mattered.
Brands like Virginia Slims leaned hard into that image. It wasn’t just smoking… it was style, confidence, sophistication. And tied into that whole “You’ve come a long way, baby” vibe, it all felt bigger than it really was.
And then there’s the music.
That jingle always hit my ear like La Bamba… that same upbeat, bouncing rhythm that sticks in your head whether you want it to or not. Not the actual song… but close enough that your brain grabs onto it.
And somehow they wrapped all of that together and made cigarette size a trend.
Think about that.
There was a time when a slightly longer cigarette felt like a status move. Longer, slimmer… like you were keeping up with something. They took something barely noticeable and turned it into a whole thing.
Different times, right?
But here we are… still talking about it.
Let me ask you…
Were your parents into the trends… or once they picked a brand, that was it?
I have vague memories of Farfel the dog himself, but that Nestlé’s jingle? That’s burned in there for life.
You know exactly what I’m talking about.
🎵 “N-E-S-T-L-E-S… Nestlé’s makes the very best…” 🎵
…and then that voice comes in to finish it…
“…chaaawwwwclit.”
Come on… you just heard it in your head, didn’t you?
That’s the part that stuck. Not the puppet, not even the commercial itself half the time… just that drawn-out delivery that somehow made it impossible to forget.
Now Farfel, for those who might not remember him as clearly, was this floppy-eared puppet dog created and voiced by Jimmy Nelson. He wasn’t flashy, wasn’t over-the-top… just kind of laid back, almost like he couldn’t be bothered to finish the word properly. And funny enough, that “lazy” delivery wasn’t even planned—it came from a mistake where the puppet’s mouth snapped shut early, and instead of fixing it, they kept it. Best decision they ever made.
And here’s something I was thinking about… back then, puppets didn’t creep us out the way they seem to today. You look at some of the comments online now and kids are like, “That thing is nightmare fuel!” Meanwhile, we were sitting there in the living room, probably on the floor, completely fine with it. No second thought. It was just part of the show.
Different time. Different mindset.
The commercial itself was simple. No crazy effects, no fast cuts, no overproduction. Just a catchy jingle, a memorable voice, and a brand like Nestlé making sure you never forgot their name. And it worked—because here we are, decades later, still singing it like it aired yesterday.
And that’s really the magic of those old commercials. They didn’t need to hit you over the head… they just slipped in, nice and easy, and stayed there.
Now I’ve got to ask… do you remember Farfel more, or is it the jingle that stuck with you like it did with me?
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.
Few advertising campaigns captured the spirit of freedom and fun quite like Kawasaki’s “Let the Good Times Roll.” Debuting in the late 1960s and taking off through the 1970s, the campaign helped redefine motorcycles—not just as machines, but as a lifestyle. Riders cruising open roads, wind in their face, and a sense that adventure was always just one throttle twist away.
But what truly made the campaign unforgettable wasn’t just the imagery—it was the music.
The now-iconic jingle was performed by The Ron Hicklin Singers, led by Ron Hicklin, with Gene Morford delivering the smooth, confident lead vocal. His delivery made the slogan feel effortless and cool—never pushy, always inviting.
And then something happens: the song sticks.
Long after the commercial ends, you find yourself replaying it in your head. That’s no accident. The jingle checks every box of what makes music memorable—simple phrasing, a strong melodic hook, bright upbeat tones, and just enough repetition to lock it into your brain. It’s what we now call an “earworm,” and Hicklin’s group practically perfected the formula.
In fact, if the Kawasaki jingle feels familiar, it’s because you’ve likely heard these voices many times before.
The Ron Hicklin Singers were behind or involved in a wide range of iconic TV themes and commercials, including shows like The Love Boat, Happy Days, and Laverne & Shirley, along with contributions to pop-driven series like The Partridge Family. They also dominated the advertising world, lending their sound to major brands like McDonald’s, Coca-Cola, and countless automotive campaigns.
Their signature style—tight harmonies, clean vocals, and instantly catchy melodies—helped define an era when TV themes and commercials were crafted with the same care as hit songs.
That’s why “Let the Good Times Roll” still resonates today. It isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a masterclass in how music, voice, and message can come together to create something timeless. You may forget the details of the commercial, but the moment you hear that line again, it clicks.
And just like that… it’s back in your head.