I am addicted to rescuing cult VHS tapes from falling into oblivion. I can;t help it. I see them there in second hand shops and charity shops, and I can feel them watching me, begging me to take them home. This week alone I have added about a dozen VHS tapes and seven DVDs to my addict stash, and it feels like the right thing to do. I can't shake the feeling that if I don't buy these things, then they will either be thrown away or go to someone that won't appreciate them properly.
Hell, I picked up another copy of Dawn of the Dead on VHS this week as the cover art was gorgeous and I hadn't had one of that edition before. What would have happened to that poor tape if I hadn't rescued it? The poor thing could have been bought by someone that would have watched it once and chucked it away, mocked for its crappy picture quality and muffled sound and then discarded. That's just wrong.
I don't always have to seek them out, though. My friends are fully aware of how obsessed I am with old cult horror and SF, and when they throw away their VHS tapes they offer me a big list of stuff. I gleefully accept and add the precious boxed hunks of plastic and magnetic tape to the stacks that grow behind the Diary of a Genre Addict TV.
I'm not a VHS diehard, although I do very much appreciate them right now. I mean, I love DVD and digital formats, but I grew up with VHS tapes, and those things shaped the geek that I became, so in their elderly days and times of becoming more than obsolete, I feel it is my duty to give them a home. I love them as if they were my family, but know this: Tracking remains the bane of my life. The tricksy little bastard.