Alright, so I’m getting married this weekend. This means two things:
- There will be no writing from me next week because I’ll be in Bermuda.
- I’m going to write some crap about growing up, becoming a man, etc.
Interestingly enough, point number two seems to be a popular theme this week, as my old friend Charles Smith (an alias to be sure) has his own opinions about it in Whim this week.
Yep, it was about when I worried about having hemorrhoids on my honeymoon that I realized I’m acting more and more like a grown-up. So it’s time to put away childish things, or toys, and embrace the things of men.
Video games stay, though, because they’re not toys. They’re training files should the government ever require my services as a fighter pilot/secret agent/Italian stereotype that squashes pizza ingredients.
The Star Wars figures are just that: figures, as in they will one day be worth several figures and finance my retirement or crippling gambling addiction. They stay.
Everything else, though, is gone. Good riddance. Most of them were broken, anyway:
- My Etch-a-sketch has a series of incredibly wobbly or very square sets of boobies etched permanently into the screen.
- Teddy Ruxpin broke down halfway through his third replay of Slayer’s Seasons in the Abyss. (He handled the audio book version of The White Hotel like a champ, though.)
- Whose bright idea was it to make Play-Doh food sets? I got all these burger molds, a festively clogged toilet and–worst of all–no Play-Doh to speak of.
- Ugh, Transformers. Shia LeBouf and Michael Bay broke those. They are officially those kids that you don’t let play with your toys because they always break them. Pearl Harbor was awesome until you played with it, Michael. Shia, get my Temple of Doom Thuggee cult member out of your mouth. Mooooooooooom!
You’re probably wondering if I’m keeping anything for any eventual children. Hell no.
Toys never age well. You ever get a toy from your aunts or uncles that they loved as kids? They’re always falling apart because the toy industry was built on leftover plastic and lead between war efforts.
And if they’re not falling apart, then they’re dangerous! You know what was a fun toy from the 1960s? Wiring kits. You connect wires to a power source to make a radio (if you’re smart) or melted plastic and fingers (if you’re a real kid). Easy Bake Ovens introduced a whole generation to undercooked food illnesses like E. Coli and botulism–and the pork chops were still dry!
I’m no proponent for child safety, but you can’t ignore that every generation needs to be handled with a little more care. Toys for kids in the ’30s? Textile mills. And today? Hands-free.
My kids won’t know what to do with my toys because they’ll have to use their hands to play with them. Today’s toys don’t need hands; they have remote controls and are probably automated anyway like Roombas. If I hand them a Lincoln Log, they’ll get splinters; give them a Lego and they’ll build calluses.
Then there’s the educational content to consider, which most parents do unconsciously anyway. Older toys reinforced gender roles (Barbie) and the draft (GI Joe). My toys taught me quaint ideas, like how negligent radioactive waste disposal will only make the world a better place (Ninja Turtles) and that I should be a bad enough dude to save the President. My kids will have new ideals to play with, like affordable health care and radical Islam.
So, it’s best for everybody if I just throw these things away. Plus, it’ll make more room for my boat and golf equipment.