Summer of 1993: CONEHEADS

It’s better than you remember – but not by much.

I don’t know if I was the only 14-year-old who begged his parents to take him to see Coneheads on opening night, but I know I was probably the only one in our neck of Michigan. I know this because my parents, siblings and I were the only people in the theater for a 7 p.m. showing. 

I don’t know why I was so eager to see Coneheads. I was too young to be a…