[I'm happy to say that others out there are doing their share of the pondering these days. One fellow with a lot on his mind is site regular Dr. Nightmare, and he's decided to share a little of that creativity. So be sure to to read this well crafted and insightful piece by the man himself, in which he offers the most important warning of all, "don't sniff the plastic". All this and so very much more in the latest edition of: -TAO]
*The following thoughts and statements don't necessarily reflect my own (although there is a good chance they do)*
Years ago, one day, I set-up The Great War between all the toys I had at the time. It was around the time when more and more figures started getting the poseable shoulders and hips that did more than just move back and forth, they now moved outwards as well. Many a figure was clothes-lined and leg-dropped to death, though ironically I owned almost zero wrestling figures because they mostly didn't have the fancy joints yet!
I had amassed many weapons and accessories for use in each faction's obliteration. Swords, shotguns, canisters of green goo, Killer Tomatoes catapults, all the tools necessary for a mighty war had been gathered. The battle began with a warcry worthy of a Norwegian Warchief, and ended with the mewling of a diseased cat. Almost all of the accessories were useless.
Some attached to the figures with pegs that were too fat or too thin, then broke-off inside with the slightest pressure. Some clipped-on and tore at the figure's paint and plastic, ruining chromed armor forever. Some weapons were spring-loaded, the ultimate weapon in any war, especially against a mutant turtle with only a neon-orange stick to defend itself with. Eat Wild Bill's whatever-the-hell-those-yellow-things-are, Raph! But the projectiles launched only 2 inches away, sagging down to be buried in a dirty carpet, a carpet soiled by the tears of a child with a broken heart, a heart broken by broken promises of a TV commercial showing the wondrous feats Batman's crappy little grappling hook could do. Why isn't my Batman soaring through the air like that? Why does he instead lay on the floor, trampled by a metal Triceratops, choked by a cyborg mouse, and crippled by the blows I give him with his own faulty equipment?
Though it was my hand that guided those blows until his head popped-off his cracked torso, as tears poured down my betrayed and handsome cheeks, I couldn't help but feel that that toy's death could have been avoided had I been given more Ritalin. Er, I mean, avoided had the toy companies been more honest with their advertising.
A good toy, if truly good it is, doesn't need to be shown blowing-up bricks with foam blasters, it just needs to be shown. If it is a gem then it will shimmer and shine like the golden cloth of a Saint Seiya figure, enticing every child to grasp for the toy like so many of us have done for the Legos in the Toys 'R Us displays. The golden light piercing every child's eye and both their parents' wallets (or purses if they have lesbian parents).
And if it is but a treacherous block of plastic, molded deceitfully of evil, and infused with that wierd smell toys have when you first open them, then they really shouldn't have released that toy at all since it probably has thumb-tacks for eyes and is slightly toxic. Seriously, don't sniff the plastic.
-Dr. Nightmare (dr._nightmare@articulateddiscussion.com)
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If you have something significant to say, send it to
thearticulatedone@articulateddiscussion.com and you might just be the
guest ponderer for this new feature. I'd love to release the thoughts
of my readers to this big toy world.
