80s Toys Roc

13,000. First off—thank you. Truly.
Not because of the number… but because of who you are.

Here’s the honest truth: I don’t really care if it’s 13,000, 3,000, or 300. Numbers don’t drive me. People do. The laughs, the comments, the DMs, the friendships—that’s the fuel.

I started this channel back in March of 2020, when the world shut down. When everything went quiet. When “they”—yeah, if you’re awake, you know who “THEY” —started pushing this idea of an obedient, “new normal.”

And yeah… that was never gonna be me.

I’ve never been good at following the status quo. Never been good at compliance for the sake of compliance. So instead of buying into something that felt forced and hollow, I did the only thing that made sense to me—I created a place where I could stay normal for my normal.

This channel became that place.

A place where we could talk toys, nostalgia, thrift stores, memories, excitement, and joy—without pretending, without filters, without playing a role. Just real life. Real passion. Real fun.

And man… what a ride it’s been.

We’ve dug through dusty shelves.
Found absolute grails.
Struck out hard some days—and hit gold on others.
We’ve laughed, we’ve geeked out, we’ve relived childhoods one thrift store at a time.

And through all of it, something bigger happened…

Community.

Friendships. Conversations. Familiar names that show up week after week. People who feel like friends I’ve known forever—even if we’ve never met face-to-face.

That means more to me than any subscriber count ever could.

The reason the 70s, 80s, and 90s matter so much to me is simple:
That era was about imagination. Anticipation. Wonder.
You didn’t scroll—you waited.
You didn’t binge—you looked forward.
You didn’t curate a persona—you were just you.

Those decades shaped who I am. And this channel is my way of keeping that spirit alive—not trapped in glass, not locked away, but shared.

So if you’ve ever watched a video…
If you’ve ever commented…
If you’ve ever laughed, smiled, or felt like a kid again for a few minutes…

Thank you.

You made this channel possible.
You made it meaningful.
And honestly? You made it fun.

I’m not chasing numbers.
I’m chasing moments.

And as long as this is fun… as long as it makes people happy…
I’m not going anywhere.

Thank you for being part of the journey.
Here’s to whatever comes next. 🍻

1 week ago | [YT] | 164

80s Toys Roc

Happy 75th Birthday to my mother-in-law, GG 🎉🎂

If you know GG, you know this: we spend about 60% of our time ripping on each other… and the other 40% agreeing way too hard on things we probably shouldn’t say out loud.

Nicole and Caroline call us “Twinnies” — and honestly, they’re not wrong. We’re both a little rough around the edges, we say what we mean (even when it’s not exactly kosher), and neither of us has much patience for nonsense. If there’s an eye roll happening in the room, odds are it’s coming from one of us.

Now let’s address the elephant in the room… 75 years old.
Seventy-five.
Three quarters of a century.
Old enough to have opinions that begin with “Back in my day…”

And yet somehow… she does not look 75. Not even close. If aging is a competition, GG is clearly cheating.

They say if you want to know what your wife is going to be like later in the marriage, you should look at her mother. And after 20 years with Nicole, I can honestly say…

I feel safe. 😅❤️

Happy Birthday, GG. Wouldn’t trade our banter, sarcasm, or “twinnie” energy for anything. Here’s to many more years of talking trash and telling it like it is. 🎉🎂

1 week ago | [YT] | 122

80s Toys Roc

There are certain cartoons you don’t just remember…
you feel them.

I’m 50 now, which is wild to even say out loud. But every once in a while, something pulls me straight back into the 1980s — not in a loud, flashy way… more like a quiet, glowing memory.

Rudolph’s Shiny New Year was one of those.

I remember watching it on one of those weird in-between nights. Christmas was over. The tree was still up, but the magic felt… thinner. Wrapping paper shoved in the corner. Batteries already dying in new toys. School looming again.

And there it was on TV.

Not Christmas.
Not really New Year’s either.
Just… something else.

I didn’t fully understand it as a kid. I just knew it felt different. A little sad. A little hopeful. Kind of dreamy. Rudolph wasn’t saving Christmas — he was racing time itself. Baby New Year in a top hat. Islands made of years. A villain who didn’t roar, but lingered.

It felt quiet.
Heavy in a way I couldn’t explain back then.

I’d sit on the carpet, legs crossed, the TV glowing in a dark living room. The hum of the set. Maybe my parents talking softly in the other room. No phone. No internet. Just me and a story about time slipping away.

And that part about the “Last Years” — even as a kid — stuck with me.
The idea that years age, fade, and disappear. That they don’t come back. That they have to make room for what’s next.

I didn’t know it then, but that cartoon was planting something.

Now I’m 50.
The years really do feel like islands behind me. Some bright. Some blurry. Some I’d revisit in a heartbeat if I could. Others… I’m okay letting drift away.

Watching it now hits completely different.

It’s not about Rudolph anymore.
It’s about time moving faster than you expect.
About learning to let go.
About hoping the next year arrives safely.

Back then, New Year felt slow. Endless. Full of promise.
Now it shows up fast — almost too fast — and you find yourself whispering, “Wait… already?”

But that’s the beauty of it.

That old Rankin/Bass special didn’t just entertain me.
It taught me — quietly — that time matters. That moments matter. That every year, shiny or not, deserves to arrive.

Somewhere inside that 50-year-old guy…
there’s still an 80s kid sitting on the floor, watching the clock tick toward midnight, believing the New Year was something magical.

And maybe it still is.

1 week ago | [YT] | 69

80s Toys Roc

There are moments in life that split time in two.
Before… and after.

This is one of mine.

I was first diagnosed with diabetes in April of 2023. I remember thinking, Okay… this is serious, but I can handle it. I did everything they told me to do. I cut sugar. I cut carbs. I lived on salads and protein. I tried to be disciplined. I tried to be strong.

But my body was quietly losing a war I didn’t even know I was fighting.

The weight came off fast. Too fast.
224 pounds… then 200… then 170… then 150… and eventually 136.

People would say things like, “Man, you look great!”
They didn’t see the shaking.
They didn’t see the dizzy spells.
They didn’t feel the neuropathy and weakness in my legs.
They didn’t know how exhausted I was.

Inside, I was wasting away.

By 2025, I was in really bad shape and hospitalized twice. February was the first admission. September was the one that almost killed me.

That second time, I spent 4.5 days in the ICU with diabetic ketoacidosis. My blood was toxic. My organs were failing. My carbon dioxcide levels were so low that didn’t even register on the guages. My body was literally eating itself to stay alive. Normal blood sugar should be around 80 to 100. Mine lived between 400 and 500. Every day. Sometimes higher reaching upwards of 650.

I was so weak. My hands trembled. My vision blurred. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest at night, and I’d lie there wondering if it would just… stop.

And the scariest part?
I didn’t let anyone see how bad it was.

I smiled. I joked. I told people I was “good.”
Meanwhile, my family was watching me disappear—right in front of them. I knew they were afriad for me.
You know, the way love looks when it’s terrified of loss.

The truth finally came out in the ICU.

I wasn’t Type 2.
I never was.

I was a Type 1 diabetic who desperately needed insulin—being treated for the wrong disease. Adult-onset Type 1 is rare. Uncommon. Something doctors don’t always expect. But rare doesn’t mean impossible. And that misdiagnosis nearly ended my life.

There is something deeply humbling about lying in a hospital bed, stripped of strength, staring at the ceiling, realizing you may not walk out the same… or at all.

In those moments, none of the things you thought mattered actually do.

Not money.
Not work.
Not stress.
Not arguments.
Not pride.

Just breath.
Just heartbeat.
Just the faces of the people you love.

Since my ICU stay in September, I’ve fought my way back. I still have hard days. I still struggle. But I’m alive. I’m stable. I weigh 185 pounds now. I feel stronger. I feel present. I feel grateful in a way you only understand when you’ve stood at the edge.

Seneca once wrote:

“It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it.”

And now I understand this truth in my bones:

“He who has health has hope, and he who has hope has everything.”

Your health is not just important—it is everything. It is the foundation that every dream, every relationship, every moment is built on. Without it, the rest of life collapses into silence.

We worry about the dumbest things. We argue over nothing. We chase things that won’t matter in the end. But when your health is gone, the only things left standing are love… and the will to survive.

When I think about 2026, it doesn’t feel like “another year.” It feels like a gift I almost didn’t receive. I carry a different awareness now—one that lives in my bones. I know how quickly everything can be taken away, and because of that, I choose differently. I protect my health. I slow down. I listen. I show up fully for the people I love. I don’t chase things that drain me anymore.

If the past few years taught me how close I came to losing my life, then 2026 represents something far more powerful: a chance to live it on purpose. With gratitude. With presence. And with the deep understanding that every day I wake up healthy enough to hug my family, breathe deeply, and stand on my own two feet… is a victory I will never take for granted again.

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 239

80s Toys Roc

🎄 Merry Christmas from Burf & the Ladies of 80s Toys ROC! 🎄 Christmas hits different when you grew up in the ’80s. Tree lights glowing, wrapping paper everywhere, batteries already missing, and that one toy you swore Santa might not bring… sitting right there under the tree.

That feeling—that pure, wide-eyed magic—is what 80s Toys ROC is all about.

From vintage toy hunts, thrift store surprises, flea markets, yard sales and reliving the glory days of action figures, VHS tapes, and Saturday morning cartoons… thank you for being part of this little nostalgia-powered corner of the internet. None of it works without you.

So wherever you are today, we hope you’re slowing down, laughing with family, telling old stories, and maybe even popping in a tape or two on a CRT just for the vibes.

From my heart—and from the Ladies of 80s Toys ROC— Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and here’s to keeping the magic alive. 🎁✨

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 234

80s Toys Roc

🎄 Join Us for a Christmas Eve Blast from the Past! 🎄 Hey everyone, it’s your boy Burf, and I’ve got something special lined up for you this Christmas Eve! My wife Nicole and I are going live on December 24th at 1 PM Eastern. We’ll be unboxing gifts sent in by awesome subscribers and diving into some good old ’80s Christmas nostalgia. Think classic toys, retro memories, and plenty of laughs.

So, if you’re in the mood for a cozy, nostalgic hangout, come join us live! Bring your favorite holiday drink and let’s make it a festive blast. See you there!

3 weeks ago | [YT] | 111

80s Toys Roc

Seriously, Yukon Cornelius wasn’t playin’.

1 month ago | [YT] | 72

80s Toys Roc

We’re seeing Five Night’s at Freddy’s for opening night tonight!

1 month ago | [YT] | 131

80s Toys Roc

Man… if you grew up in the late ’70s or early ’80s, this guy was practically a rite of passage.

This is the 1979 Krusher by Mattel — part monster, part stress ball, part childhood magic trick. And holding him again takes me straight back to being a kid on my bedroom floor… when life was simple, Saturday mornings were sacred, and a toy didn’t need WiFi — it just needed imagination.

I can still remember the exact feeling of smashing him down with both hands, crushing him into a tight little rubbery ball, laughing like a maniac, and then… the best part…
that little pssshhhhht of the valve.

You’d flip it open…
let the air rush in…
and just like that — Krusher came back to life, expanding in slow motion like some radioactive monster resurrecting from the depths.

Tell me that wasn’t the coolest thing ever.

This toy wasn’t just plastic and air — it was a childhood superpower. You controlled the destruction. You controlled the resurrection. You got to be the hero and the villain in the same play session.

Seeing him today — the wild green skin, the bulging monster face, the ridiculous belt, the whole vibe — it’s a time machine. A reminder of afternoons when all I needed was imagination, a bowl of cereal, and a monster I could squish to death and bring back to life over and over again.

If you had one of these growing up… you already know:
Krusher wasn’t just a toy. He was an experience.

And holding him now?
Feels like being 8 years old all over again.

1 month ago (edited) | [YT] | 84

80s Toys Roc

Walt Disney once sent Charles Schulz a polite rejection letter, telling him his work wasn’t strong enough for background art.

A gentle brush-off, wrapped in corporate niceties:
“We only hire the very finest artists.”

According to them, “Sparky” didn’t make the cut.

His school yearbook wouldn’t publish his drawings.
He bombed eighth grade — every single subject.
He even scored a zero in physics.

Classmates called him “Sparky,” borrowing the name from a comic-strip horse — not as a compliment.
As Paul Harvey once said, Sparky wasn’t exactly disliked…
He simply wasn’t noticed enough for anyone to dislike him.

So this kid who felt invisible did something unexpected.

He never tried to prove Disney wrong.
Instead, he created a world of his own.
He drew his life story as a comic strip.
And he named the main character after himself:

Charlie Brown.

A boy whose kite never flies.
A team captain who never wins.
A kid whose crush never looks his way.

And then Schulz made a decision TV executives despised. For his Christmas special, he centered the entire message on a line from Luke 2:

“Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy…”

Networks urged him to cut it.
Too religious.
Too risky.

He stood his ground.

Today, every Christmas, millions watch that moment — the one they said would never work.

The kid they all overlooked… became the one who told the world something bigger.

Disney said he wasn’t good enough, but God had a different opinion.

No matter how hard things feel right now… no matter what kind of shitty situation life has thrown at you… don’t forget this:
You are still being shaped for something greater.

When Walt Disney told Charles Schulz he wasn’t good enough…
When Schulz’s teachers failed him…
When classmates didn’t mock him but ignored him — which hurts even worse…
Everything in his life looked like a closed door.

But what looked like rejection was actually redirection.

Schulz didn’t fight for the door that shut.
He didn’t try to crawl back into Disney’s approval.
Instead, he walked toward a door only he could see —
the one that led him to create Charlie Brown, Snoopy, and a Christmas moment that would touch millions of souls for generations.

Looking back, it’s obvious:
Every “no,” every failure, every lonely moment was actually chiseling him into the man who would change the world with a pencil.

So whatever you’re going through right now, remember this:

One day you’ll look back and realize the strength you’re gaining right now is the foundation for something extraordinary.
The pain you’re in today might be the exact force shaping the purpose you’ll step into tomorrow.

When one door closes, it’s not the universe punishing you.
It’s preparing you.
It’s steering you toward a room built just for you, a life only you can live, and a legacy only you can leave.

Disney said Schulz wasn’t good enough.

Life may be whispering the same lie to you right now.

But just like Schulz…
just like every so-called “nobody” who later became a world-changer…your story isn’t done yet. I don’t care if you’re 40, 50, 60, 70, or 80 years old….

You are destined for greatness —
and one day you’ll stand in awe of the strength it took to get here.

LOVE & WISDOM,
— BURF

1 month ago | [YT] | 32