I did not have cable when I was growing up, a pop cultural slight that I have now come to believe should be labeled a crime against humanity, so I had to find other ways to watch Transformers, GI Joe and anything else that might be showing only on the USA Cartoon Express. Thus, I had many an over night at my various friend’s houses where I would watch Nick at Night, Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Godzilla marathons until the sun would rise.

Now I never really understood Godzilla films at the time, all I knew was that they had giant monsters, giant robots and it also was a pretty cool Saturday morning cartoon which starred an even gianter monster who was at the beck and call of American scientists. They also also blew up stuff in the movies, which is always pretty cool.

I like to think Godzilla, and those nights spent watching him destroy, and defend, Tokyo, were some of the first planted seeds that would eventually blossom into my love of film. As such I’ve always had a bit of a nostalgic kick for men dressed in monster suits stomping on model cities. It is just good clean family fun. Until Mighty Morphin Power Rangers went and crapped all over it.

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