May 26, 2006

Stupid Toys

I do well with children and animals. Any critter that is only somewhat aware of rules seem to like me. I allow a fair amount of running which makes me popular. Many adults don't like running. In hallways, near pools, with knives . . . I also don't just allow, but encourage, bed jumping. Good times there. If the parent's weren't so cheap and bought a trampoline this wouldn't be the issue it always is. "Uncle F, we don't jump on beds." Condescending clowns. You may not, my fertile friend, but your child and I do. And we prefer your bed. It's bigger. And for the umpteenth time I'm sorry about the lamp.

Anyway, last weekend I packed up my wife, her sister, two dogs (one four-toed, one three) turned on the Cavs-Pistons game on the satellite and headed to Sheboygan for my nephew's birthday party.

In the midst of watching this child receive video games, books, swords, skateboards, sets of things that only he can figure out how to put together, I began talking some relative (don't know how we are related. Her side of the family.) about the crappy toys of my day. One in particular. My dad's sliest move ever.

I used to read quite a bit of comic books in my youth (around 10-12) and in the back of the comic books there was an add that I bet every guy reading has seen. This one:

There were two that interested me. The X-Ray glasses and the See-through-peoples-clothes glasses. I felt that it was safer to go with the X-Ray because who knows what kind of packaging the clothes one came in. Whatever it was I was sure it would equal trouble. Plus, everyone would want to borrow them. SO the X-Ray Glasses were the item for me. I set on my way to get a pair.
My father told me that if I mowed our lawn for a month that he would buy them for me. Until the very moment I uploaded the image I never noted that the glasses were only $2 with shipping. I am sure that my meager allowance would have covered that. Certainly over lawn mowing. Not only did I mow the lawn, I threw in some dishwashing and room cleaning the week before the item was sent for to ensure no arguments.

Months later these things arrive. Excited I run to my room to check out my bones. I will find out if this skeletal things is really what I have been led to believe it was through Scooby-Doo. This would be the first step towards becoming a doctor. I will specialize in bones. Femurs, Tibulas, Knuckle-bones, the works. I will see parts of people that they will never see. Not as exciting as the parts they don't want me to see but baby steps. Baby steps.

I put them on and figure a good first test is the hand test as seen in the advertisement. I hold my hand in front of my face and . . .

To say it was a let-down would be an understatement. Within two years I would be working at a video store and very happy. These crappy glasses just show you a shadow like image of your hand and where the shadows overlap it vaguely looks like a bone. Y'know if you have an IQ of a retarded gnat.

At this point in the story I saw the kid put the party on hold while he booted up his GameCube for "one quick game" of SpongeBob's Big Adventure. At least he didn't have to mow lawns. Yet.

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