I believe I was right around high school age, but for some reason I owned my own condo “down state,” whatever that meant. I wasn’t able to live in it at the moment, though, due to the resident association’s annual project of “fumigating the holidays.” So, I was back at my parents’ house, where Christmas ornaments were hung by placing them on the hand-crank Victrola and letting the turntable spin, sending the festive knick-knacks flying off to their proper places. I was gathering ornaments to put on the turntable, but their hanging hooks kept piercing my right arm. Soon, I had about seven or eight hooks embedded in my forearm. They didn’t seem to hurt though, and a Big Mouth Billy Bass (which, fortunately, my family does not own in reality) turned to me and said, “That’s the raspberries.”
And on a completely unrelated note, here is a web site that provides instructions for reprogramming a Big Mouth Billy Bass, if you are so gauche as to own one, to say whatever you want it to say.