So, Tuesday night I went at the the O's game with the guys. In addition to the game itself, I always enjoy watching the people in and around the stadium. Every person has their unique idiosyncrasies. Some are crazy while others are quite boring. Of course, we'll skip over the latter, because, well, they're boring...
Out of sheer habit, our first stop was Pickles Pub. We usually stop here (or the Bullpen next door) to grab a couple of cheap Natty-Boh's. Yeah I know it's a pretty shitty beer, but there's unwritten rule that says that you have to down at least one Natty-Boh before, during or after an O's game. So, that we did. As it gets closer to game time, Pickles Pub gets absolutely jam packed. Deciding that we didn't want to be turned into veal, we mosied on over to the nearby Diamond Tavern.
The Diamond Tavern is part of the Hilton hotel located directly across the main gate to Camden Yards. It's a nice place to grab a beer and relax before the game. We grabbed an outdoor table where we could burn a cigar without offending too many people. As a bonus, I had a great view of all the people making their way into stadium. Of course, my buddies immediately recognized my focused gaze and pointed out, "Look at Ken. He's taking all of this in for his next blog." What can I say, except guilty as charged...
The first thing I noticed was the ticket hawkers. One minute, a guy would be yelling, "Tickets? Anybody got any extra tickets?" And then, before you knew it, the same guy was holding up several tickets and yelling, "Tickets here! Anybody need a ticket?" It was like watching a David Blaine trick. But actually, he was buying cheap tickets off of one guy and then immediately turning around and reselling them for a profit to another guy. I guess you could classify that as a bit of street magic.
I noticed that one of the other ticket guys looked like he had spent the day smoking crack. His eyes were all glazed over and he appeared to stumble as he walked through the crowd. Probably not the best image for a budding sales entrepreneur. Another guy was wearing a "Justice For Trayvon" t-shirt as he tried to hawk his tickets to the passing fans. Probably not a good idea to wear such a polarizing shirt while you're trying to move your product. But what do I know?
Once we made our way into the stadium, the first stop was the beer stand for a round of ridiculously priced brews. Camden Yards, in addition to being home to Baltimore Orioles, is also home to the world's most expensive Natty Boh. Nowhere else can you find such an inferior beer for such an extravagant price.
As we headed towards our seats, an usher insisted on showing us how to get there. My friends and I are all reasonably intelligent adults. I think we could have figured out where our seats were on our own. But, of course, this was just the usher's way of fishing for a tip. Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.
As we sat down, the game was already under way. A few minutes later, a grumpy, old rich guy makes his way through the row in front of us. Apparently, a group of youngsters were mistakenly sitting his seats. So, the old man, instead of telling them nicely, acts like an arrogant prick and condescendingly dismisses the group. The guy deserved to get hit with a foul ball but he had to settle for some peanut shells from my friends. Karma eventually caught up with this guy. I'll come back to him shortly....
There was also a loud-mouthed, drunken Angel's fan sitting a few rows behind us. When Angel slugger, Mike Trout came to the plate, the guy started chanting, "MVP-MVP-MVP!" Ok, I get it. He's a fan and he's entitled to cheer for his favorite player. Well, Trout wound up striking out. As O's fans, we're certainly entitled to break the guy's balls, right? After all, Camden Yards is our house. So, right after the 3rd strike on Trout, we all started chanting, "MVP-MVP-MVP!" The crowd around us got a kick out of it. But the angry Angels fan got pretty pissed.
A short time later, O's 3rd baseman, Manny Machado got picked up if 2nd base to end the inning. This brought our favorite Angels' fan running down to steps and screaming, "Take that, All-Star! You ain't all that!" It sounded like Rocky Balboa talking to Mr. T. The guy was lucky that we were sitting in the good seats. If he would have done this in the upper deck, he might have had a beer bottle bounced off of his head.
To be fair, not all of the Angels were bad. There was a group of muscle heads sitting a few rows in front of us who just sat back and watched the game. I'm glad too. The last thing we needed was to get into a pissing contest with them. In what have probably ended with them kicking our asses and offering us as a sacrifice to the Angel's dugout.
There was also an attractive woman in the front row who kept walking up and down the steps in her very tight Angel's shirt. I must say, it was a very nice looking shirt. After her third pass, we almost started cheering for Los Angeles. "Charlie's Angel" was a reasonable offset for the antagonizing Angels fan that I mentioned earlier.
Anyway, the game went on. Both teams battled back and forth, but the O's ultimately won the game on a 12th inning walk-off homerun by none other than Manny Machado. As soon as Manny hit his bomb, every O's fan immediately turned around to give our favorite Angels fan some well deserved crap. But the guy was already running towards the exit. As he hurried out, he gave the crowd the finger. Real classy. Hey, if you're going to talk bullshit, you should be able to take it too.
Now, back to the grumpy rich guy. After he left, in about the 8th inning, a young woman came over and sat in his seat. When the game was over, she stood up and stretched. Then, the guy in front of her pointed out that there was a wad of money under her seat. She counted it out, it was probably about $100 or so. It had obviously fallen out of the grumpy rich guy's packet. She split it with the guy who pointed it out. Normally, I would have frowned on something like this. But, since the old man was such a prick, he deserved to lose $100. Yes, karma can be a bitch.
It was a fun night catching a ball game with my buds. The weather was great and the O's won in dramatic fashion. We were all dragging the next day. But it was well worth it!
kw
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Saturday Night At The ER
Whether it's for yourself or another unlucky individual, it's never fun when you have to make a trip to the emergency room. Being surrounding by sickness, injuries and sheer bizarreness isn't exactly my idea of a good time.
Last Saturday night, Tina's dad had an issue and we eventually found ourselves sitting in the ER of a local hospital. As he was prepped and tended to, we knew it was going to be a long night. (By the way, Tina's dad is still in the hospital, but he'll be fine).
Now, the first issue of waiting in an ER is the comfort factor. I really believe that hospitals go out of their way to find the most uncomfortable seating possible to furnish their waiting areas. Ironically, after about 15 minutes of sitting in one of these torturous chairs, my back was so wrecked that I thought that I was going to need medical treatment. Looking around the room, it appeared that I wasn't alone as several people were twisting and stretching in a futile attempt to work the knots out of their backs.
As I scanned over to look at Tina, she appeared to be getting nauseous. I asked her if she was ok. She then directed my attention to a young couple sitting across the room. As the guy was slumped over, his girlfriend appeared to be totally obsessed with popping the zits on his back and neck. I tried to quickly look away as I threw up in my mouth a little. I've experienced many WTF moments in my life. But this was way beyond that. She methodically went from one zit to the next with great precision. All I can say is that she must have really loved the guy. Or maybe she was just strung out on meth. I really felt bad for the unsuspecting fools who sat in those seats next..
Looking beyond the zit-popper, we saw another guy who was puking. While I could certainly understand why he might be throwing up, it appeared more like he had his ass kicked by Jack Daniels after a long night of drinking. I silently wished that he would confine his puking to his side of the waiting area.
A short distance from us was an older couple. The man was in one of those mobile scooters that you see the seniors fight over at Walmart. Anyway, the guy would do a short lap around the seating area every few minutes. I couldn't understand what the reason was for this.
After a couple hours, I was exhausted. So, somehow in spite of everything going on around me, I managed to slip off to sleep. That was short-lived as I was awoken by a guy having a loud conversation on a cell phone. The guy, who resembled Snoop Dogg, carried on his slurred banter for about an hour. His contribution to the conversation consisted of, "Nah......Why you do that......Are you serious......Yup, yup......Nah, f*ck dat."
As the night wore on, the waiting room began to look like a Jim Jones Kool-Aid party. In twisted and contorted positions, people were sprawled out all over their seats. One guy had his head cocked sideways as he drooled onto the armrest. Another woman was snoring loud enough to muffle out Snoop Dogg. Even the guy with zits seemed to be passed out. And yes, his girl continued to work on his back as he lay comatose across her lap. She was dedicated, I'll give her that.
We left the hospital shortly before sunrise. I was exhausted and disturbed. I couldn't wait to get home to my own bed where it was clean, quiet and zit-free........
kw
Last Saturday night, Tina's dad had an issue and we eventually found ourselves sitting in the ER of a local hospital. As he was prepped and tended to, we knew it was going to be a long night. (By the way, Tina's dad is still in the hospital, but he'll be fine).
Now, the first issue of waiting in an ER is the comfort factor. I really believe that hospitals go out of their way to find the most uncomfortable seating possible to furnish their waiting areas. Ironically, after about 15 minutes of sitting in one of these torturous chairs, my back was so wrecked that I thought that I was going to need medical treatment. Looking around the room, it appeared that I wasn't alone as several people were twisting and stretching in a futile attempt to work the knots out of their backs.
As I scanned over to look at Tina, she appeared to be getting nauseous. I asked her if she was ok. She then directed my attention to a young couple sitting across the room. As the guy was slumped over, his girlfriend appeared to be totally obsessed with popping the zits on his back and neck. I tried to quickly look away as I threw up in my mouth a little. I've experienced many WTF moments in my life. But this was way beyond that. She methodically went from one zit to the next with great precision. All I can say is that she must have really loved the guy. Or maybe she was just strung out on meth. I really felt bad for the unsuspecting fools who sat in those seats next..
Looking beyond the zit-popper, we saw another guy who was puking. While I could certainly understand why he might be throwing up, it appeared more like he had his ass kicked by Jack Daniels after a long night of drinking. I silently wished that he would confine his puking to his side of the waiting area.
A short distance from us was an older couple. The man was in one of those mobile scooters that you see the seniors fight over at Walmart. Anyway, the guy would do a short lap around the seating area every few minutes. I couldn't understand what the reason was for this.
After a couple hours, I was exhausted. So, somehow in spite of everything going on around me, I managed to slip off to sleep. That was short-lived as I was awoken by a guy having a loud conversation on a cell phone. The guy, who resembled Snoop Dogg, carried on his slurred banter for about an hour. His contribution to the conversation consisted of, "Nah......Why you do that......Are you serious......Yup, yup......Nah, f*ck dat."
As the night wore on, the waiting room began to look like a Jim Jones Kool-Aid party. In twisted and contorted positions, people were sprawled out all over their seats. One guy had his head cocked sideways as he drooled onto the armrest. Another woman was snoring loud enough to muffle out Snoop Dogg. Even the guy with zits seemed to be passed out. And yes, his girl continued to work on his back as he lay comatose across her lap. She was dedicated, I'll give her that.
We left the hospital shortly before sunrise. I was exhausted and disturbed. I couldn't wait to get home to my own bed where it was clean, quiet and zit-free........
kw
Friday, July 25, 2014
Pardon The Interuption
You ever notice how our lives are full of constant interruptions? It seems that you can't have ten minutes of continuous activity without someone or something coming along and getting in the way. And the older I get, the more it pisses me off.
Back in the day, if you were tired of commercials interrupting your favorite TV show, you could subscribe to cable TV and enjoy endless hours of uninterrupted visual entertainment. Sure, it would up costing you a few extra bucks, but it was well worth it. But somewhere along the line, the commercials made their way over into the cable arena. Nowadays, you can't even watch ten continuous minutes of Bar Rescue without a commercial ruining the experience. Of course, we have do have DVR's now. But, mark my words, they will eventually figure out a way to prevent you from skipping through the commercials.
Even when I rent a DVD, I have to sit through a dozen previews before I can even begin watch the main attraction. And if that's not bad enough, they'll sometimes throw in a Coca-Cola commercial to boot. How long before Will Rogers pops up on the screen and I have an usher knocking at my door holding a donation bucket?
Speaking of people knocking at my door....
I cringe when I hear the doorbell ring anymore. The person on the other side of the door will inevitably be:
a) trying to sell me some type of home improvement
b) asking for some type of donation
or
c) trying to convert me into a Jehovah's Witness
Lately, when I hear the familiar ding-dong sound, I immediately grab my phone, a pen and a legal pad. As I open up the door, I pretend like I'm having a heated business discussion. As I raise the legal pad over my head for a dramatic effect, I bark at my phantom business partner through the phone, "I don't care what corporate says. You work out the numbers and make this happen! Am I making myself clear?!"
Then I'll my hand over the phone and turn my attention to the poor sap at my door," I'm sorry, bud. What can I help you with?"
As the guy at the door starts to talk, I'll cut him off, "I'm sorry. I gotta take this."
And then I'll start barking back at the phone, "You know what? This is total bullshit!....What was that?....Are you freggin' kidding me?" By this time, the guy at the door will usually dismiss himself by saying, "You seem really busy. We'll try back again some other time."
I have to admit, I do feel a little bad when I do this to the Girl Scouts or the little league kids.
And here's an interruption that really drives me crazy. You see, I'm a story teller. And when I'm telling a story, I like to take the listeners on a trip so they can feel like they were actually there. I have my own personal idea of how to get them from point A to point B. I like to refer to it as my "flow". So when I'm in the middle of colorful story and someone interrupts me, they totally wreck my momentum. I've gotten to the point now where I'll refuse to resume the story claiming that my flow has been interrupted.
Have you ever been jamming out to your favorite song at a red light only to be interrupted by someone knocking at your window begging for money?
When I fly, I prefer to sit in the aisle seat. I also like to read to pass the time. On the rare occasion, when my arms aren't pinned up like a praying mantis, I like to write. But I find it hard to concentrate on either one of these things for very long due to constant interruptions. If the flight attendant isn't cracking my elbow with the beverage cart, the guy next to me with the overactive bladder will be squeezing past me to use the bathroom every ten minutes. And, even worse than these two, is the kid in the seat behind me who kicks my seat for the entire three hour flight.
With all of these interruptions, it's a wonder that I get anything done......
kw
Back in the day, if you were tired of commercials interrupting your favorite TV show, you could subscribe to cable TV and enjoy endless hours of uninterrupted visual entertainment. Sure, it would up costing you a few extra bucks, but it was well worth it. But somewhere along the line, the commercials made their way over into the cable arena. Nowadays, you can't even watch ten continuous minutes of Bar Rescue without a commercial ruining the experience. Of course, we have do have DVR's now. But, mark my words, they will eventually figure out a way to prevent you from skipping through the commercials.
Even when I rent a DVD, I have to sit through a dozen previews before I can even begin watch the main attraction. And if that's not bad enough, they'll sometimes throw in a Coca-Cola commercial to boot. How long before Will Rogers pops up on the screen and I have an usher knocking at my door holding a donation bucket?
Speaking of people knocking at my door....
I cringe when I hear the doorbell ring anymore. The person on the other side of the door will inevitably be:
a) trying to sell me some type of home improvement
b) asking for some type of donation
or
c) trying to convert me into a Jehovah's Witness
Lately, when I hear the familiar ding-dong sound, I immediately grab my phone, a pen and a legal pad. As I open up the door, I pretend like I'm having a heated business discussion. As I raise the legal pad over my head for a dramatic effect, I bark at my phantom business partner through the phone, "I don't care what corporate says. You work out the numbers and make this happen! Am I making myself clear?!"
Then I'll my hand over the phone and turn my attention to the poor sap at my door," I'm sorry, bud. What can I help you with?"
As the guy at the door starts to talk, I'll cut him off, "I'm sorry. I gotta take this."
And then I'll start barking back at the phone, "You know what? This is total bullshit!....What was that?....Are you freggin' kidding me?" By this time, the guy at the door will usually dismiss himself by saying, "You seem really busy. We'll try back again some other time."
I have to admit, I do feel a little bad when I do this to the Girl Scouts or the little league kids.
And here's an interruption that really drives me crazy. You see, I'm a story teller. And when I'm telling a story, I like to take the listeners on a trip so they can feel like they were actually there. I have my own personal idea of how to get them from point A to point B. I like to refer to it as my "flow". So when I'm in the middle of colorful story and someone interrupts me, they totally wreck my momentum. I've gotten to the point now where I'll refuse to resume the story claiming that my flow has been interrupted.
Have you ever been jamming out to your favorite song at a red light only to be interrupted by someone knocking at your window begging for money?
When I fly, I prefer to sit in the aisle seat. I also like to read to pass the time. On the rare occasion, when my arms aren't pinned up like a praying mantis, I like to write. But I find it hard to concentrate on either one of these things for very long due to constant interruptions. If the flight attendant isn't cracking my elbow with the beverage cart, the guy next to me with the overactive bladder will be squeezing past me to use the bathroom every ten minutes. And, even worse than these two, is the kid in the seat behind me who kicks my seat for the entire three hour flight.
With all of these interruptions, it's a wonder that I get anything done......
kw
Sunday, July 20, 2014
As The Border Bleeds
Every day, countless immigrants continue to pour across the Mexican border and enter the United States illegally. Of course, this has been happening for a long time. But most recently, there has been a huge influx of kids, primarily from Central America. And although these little guys are indeed breaking the law, the usual suspects are already beating the "it's all about the children" drum.
This is a tricky road for modern politicians. Both major parties know that the exploding Hispanic demographic is a voting bloc that can't be ignored. So, they make excuses why amnesty is a great thing for America. Of course, most politicians won't dare utter the "A" word. Instead, they candy-coat it with bullshit terms like "path to citizenship". But the bottom line is that both, Democrats and Republicans, are putting their respective parties first while selling America down the river. Kinda like the way corporate America did with manufacturing.....
I've been following some the local news about these illegal border kids. Maryland's Governor Owe'Malley recently commented that the illegal immigrant children should be considered refugees and thus given asylum so they are not sent back to face certain death in Central America. But when there was talk about sending some of these "New Americans" (as he likes to call them) to western Maryland, Owe'Malley suddenly changed his tune. Of course, being the prolific bullshitter, he quickly explained that he was only trying to protect the kids from all of the "racists" out in the Westminster area. The racist accusation was largely due to someone spray painting "No illegals here. No undocumented Democrats" on a potential housing site in Westminster, MD.
But the real reason Owe'Malley is balking about the law-breaking kiddies coming to Maryland is likely because it's estimated that each one is costing the taxpayer $250-1000 a day. With Owe'Malley getting ready to make a run for President (yeah, I know, I'm laughing too), he can't have anything or anybody mucking it up for him now. Especially a bunch of migrant kids who can't even vote yet! After all, Owe'Malley's worked too damned hard trying to tax us out of a deficit to throw it all away now.
Here's the part that I find really ironic (or hypocritical). While many bleeding hearts have a soft spot for all of these illegal "refugees", they seem to ignore the countless refugee children in places like Baltimore City. Do these inner city kids really have much more of a chance of a kid in Guatemala or El Salvador? Sounds kind of crazy. But is it really?
Politicians can try to spin this immigration mess any way they want. But there is no way this is good for the United States. Just last week, the President was asking for $4 billion to deal with the latest bunch of people crossing the border ILLEGALLY. This is the beginning. How much will it be next month, $10 billion?
If you happen to feel like it's America's responsibility to take care of all these illegals, why don't you step up and offer to take a few of them in? I'm sorry, did you say something? Yeah, that's what I thought.......
kw
This is a tricky road for modern politicians. Both major parties know that the exploding Hispanic demographic is a voting bloc that can't be ignored. So, they make excuses why amnesty is a great thing for America. Of course, most politicians won't dare utter the "A" word. Instead, they candy-coat it with bullshit terms like "path to citizenship". But the bottom line is that both, Democrats and Republicans, are putting their respective parties first while selling America down the river. Kinda like the way corporate America did with manufacturing.....
I've been following some the local news about these illegal border kids. Maryland's Governor Owe'Malley recently commented that the illegal immigrant children should be considered refugees and thus given asylum so they are not sent back to face certain death in Central America. But when there was talk about sending some of these "New Americans" (as he likes to call them) to western Maryland, Owe'Malley suddenly changed his tune. Of course, being the prolific bullshitter, he quickly explained that he was only trying to protect the kids from all of the "racists" out in the Westminster area. The racist accusation was largely due to someone spray painting "No illegals here. No undocumented Democrats" on a potential housing site in Westminster, MD.
But the real reason Owe'Malley is balking about the law-breaking kiddies coming to Maryland is likely because it's estimated that each one is costing the taxpayer $250-1000 a day. With Owe'Malley getting ready to make a run for President (yeah, I know, I'm laughing too), he can't have anything or anybody mucking it up for him now. Especially a bunch of migrant kids who can't even vote yet! After all, Owe'Malley's worked too damned hard trying to tax us out of a deficit to throw it all away now.
Here's the part that I find really ironic (or hypocritical). While many bleeding hearts have a soft spot for all of these illegal "refugees", they seem to ignore the countless refugee children in places like Baltimore City. Do these inner city kids really have much more of a chance of a kid in Guatemala or El Salvador? Sounds kind of crazy. But is it really?
Politicians can try to spin this immigration mess any way they want. But there is no way this is good for the United States. Just last week, the President was asking for $4 billion to deal with the latest bunch of people crossing the border ILLEGALLY. This is the beginning. How much will it be next month, $10 billion?
If you happen to feel like it's America's responsibility to take care of all these illegals, why don't you step up and offer to take a few of them in? I'm sorry, did you say something? Yeah, that's what I thought.......
kw
Friday, July 4, 2014
July 4th Trivia Bits
Some interesting trivia tidbits about Independence Day.......
- While Americans have celebrated Independence Day on July 4th for as long as we can remember, most historians have concluded that Declaration of Independence was actually signed on August 2nd.
- Three of the first five Presidents died on the 4th of July: John Adams, Thomas Jefferson and James Monroe. Adams and Jefferson died a few hours apart in 1826.
- The lone President to be born on the 4th of July was Calvin Coolidge
- The 4th of July became a national holiday in 1870. It became a paid federal holiday in 1938.
- When America declared it's independence in 1776, the estimated population was 2.5 million. Today the population is about 316 million
- On July 4, 1946, the Philippines declared it's independence from the United States
- The three colors of the American flag have significant meaning. The red represents hardiness and valor. The white symbolizes purity and innocence. And the blue stands for vigilance, perseverance and justice.
- It is believed that more hot dogs are eaten on July 4th than any other day of the year. It is estimated that 155 million franks will be consumed today.
- Ben Franklin was the oldest signer of the Declaration of Independence at 70. Edward Rutledge was the youngest at the age of 26.
- The initial adoption of the Declaration of Independence was on July 2. It was revised two days later.
- Debating our national symbol, Ben Franklin opposed the idea of the bald eagle. He argued that the eagle was a bird of "bad moral character and does not get his living honestly". Franklin thought that the turkey be a better symbol. In the end, he lost out to John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, both of whom preferred the bald eagle
- On July 4th, the Liberty Bell is tapped 13 times to represent the 13 original colonies
- The US imports over $200 million worth of fireworks each year from China
- The tune of The Star Spangled Banner was originally used as an old English drinking song.
- American spend over $200 on condiments for 4th of July parties
- Almost 70 million cases of beer are sold for July 4th celebrations
Wishing all of my fellow Americans a safe and happy holiday. Please keep the men and women of the US military in your thoughts as you celebrate the day....
Happy birthday America!
kw
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
The Adventurous Toys of Yesterday
The other day day I was talking to a friend about some of the crazy things we used to do as kids. Although a little dangerous at times, we all lived to tell about our adventures. Not surprising, Band-Aids and tetanus shots were a big part of our youth.
Of course, some of the routine toys of my generation would be frowned upon today. For instance, most of the playgrounds back in the day were made of shiny sheet metal. Not only did it practically blind you when the sun hit it, but it could also get hotter than hell on a summer day. If this wasn't enough, in order for you to even take a slide down the towering inferno, you first had to climb up a 20-foot ladder! Most of today's kids would probably gas out halfway up.
Back in the day, we would often improvise and use natural "toys". As hard as it might be for today's kids to comprehend, we would often climb trees just for the hell of it. It took effort and a considerable amount of agility to get to the highest part of the tree. But when you got there, you felt like you had reached the top of Mt. Everest. It gave you a sense of accomplishment.
Another beloved toy of my youth was the BB gun. You are probably familiar with little Ralphie's determined quest for the Red Ryder BB gun in "A Christmas Story". I know this is hard to digest in today's pussified society, but there was a time where the BB gun was almost as much a rite of passage for a young boy as baseball. Of course, not nearly as many kids play baseball these days either...
The predecessor to the BB gun was the cap gun. This was usually a small plastic or metal toy-gun that "fired" caps. Caps were small red rolls of paper with small pockets of gunpowder. Yes, gunpowder! When we got a little older, we traded the gun in for a hammer. You see, when you took a whole roll of caps and hit it with a hammer, it made a thunderous blast! At least it seemed thunderous back then...
Hey, does anyone remember Shrinky-Dinks? No, guys, I'm not talking about when you jumped into a cold pool. Shrinky-Dinks were these thin plastic sheets on which you would creatively draw a colorful picture. After performing your best artwork, you would place the plastic sheet into a hot oven. As you eagerly looked through the over window and breathed in the toxic fumes, the plastic would shrink to a fraction of it's size. It would become a thick, hard piece of artwork in which you could transform into a necklace, hang from a Christmas tree or throw at a passing car.
Then there were the Clackers. These were two golfball-sized marbles that were attached by a string. You would jerk the string up and down to make the two marbles smack against one another. Most of us wound up cracking the marbles off of various body parts. Along the same lines, there was the paddle and ball game that we usually received as a "prize" at carnivals and birthday parties. The toy consisted of a wooden paddle attached to a small rubber ball by a long rubber band. You would hit the ball with the paddle and the rubber band would propel it back at you. You had to have pretty good reflexes to bat the ball more than two or three consecutive times. I can remember seeing stars a few times after taking a ball in the eye.
Perhaps the most beloved yet dangerous toy of my youth was the game of Lawn Darts. These were large darts with heavy, pointy ends. The object was to toss the dart into a 2-foot ring a short distance away. Basically, it was a variation of horseshoes. Because of multiple episodes of people getting speared by the darts, the were banned in 1988. Although they show signs of wear, I still have two sets of Lawn Darts. Once in a blue moon, I'll break them out at a cook out. Although they can certainly be dangerous if you're not paying attention, it's actually a fun game.
Sure, these things could be hazardous at times. But I still think it beats spending all day in front of a TV playing video games...
kw
Of course, some of the routine toys of my generation would be frowned upon today. For instance, most of the playgrounds back in the day were made of shiny sheet metal. Not only did it practically blind you when the sun hit it, but it could also get hotter than hell on a summer day. If this wasn't enough, in order for you to even take a slide down the towering inferno, you first had to climb up a 20-foot ladder! Most of today's kids would probably gas out halfway up.
Back in the day, we would often improvise and use natural "toys". As hard as it might be for today's kids to comprehend, we would often climb trees just for the hell of it. It took effort and a considerable amount of agility to get to the highest part of the tree. But when you got there, you felt like you had reached the top of Mt. Everest. It gave you a sense of accomplishment.
Another beloved toy of my youth was the BB gun. You are probably familiar with little Ralphie's determined quest for the Red Ryder BB gun in "A Christmas Story". I know this is hard to digest in today's pussified society, but there was a time where the BB gun was almost as much a rite of passage for a young boy as baseball. Of course, not nearly as many kids play baseball these days either...
The predecessor to the BB gun was the cap gun. This was usually a small plastic or metal toy-gun that "fired" caps. Caps were small red rolls of paper with small pockets of gunpowder. Yes, gunpowder! When we got a little older, we traded the gun in for a hammer. You see, when you took a whole roll of caps and hit it with a hammer, it made a thunderous blast! At least it seemed thunderous back then...
Hey, does anyone remember Shrinky-Dinks? No, guys, I'm not talking about when you jumped into a cold pool. Shrinky-Dinks were these thin plastic sheets on which you would creatively draw a colorful picture. After performing your best artwork, you would place the plastic sheet into a hot oven. As you eagerly looked through the over window and breathed in the toxic fumes, the plastic would shrink to a fraction of it's size. It would become a thick, hard piece of artwork in which you could transform into a necklace, hang from a Christmas tree or throw at a passing car.
Then there were the Clackers. These were two golfball-sized marbles that were attached by a string. You would jerk the string up and down to make the two marbles smack against one another. Most of us wound up cracking the marbles off of various body parts. Along the same lines, there was the paddle and ball game that we usually received as a "prize" at carnivals and birthday parties. The toy consisted of a wooden paddle attached to a small rubber ball by a long rubber band. You would hit the ball with the paddle and the rubber band would propel it back at you. You had to have pretty good reflexes to bat the ball more than two or three consecutive times. I can remember seeing stars a few times after taking a ball in the eye.
Perhaps the most beloved yet dangerous toy of my youth was the game of Lawn Darts. These were large darts with heavy, pointy ends. The object was to toss the dart into a 2-foot ring a short distance away. Basically, it was a variation of horseshoes. Because of multiple episodes of people getting speared by the darts, the were banned in 1988. Although they show signs of wear, I still have two sets of Lawn Darts. Once in a blue moon, I'll break them out at a cook out. Although they can certainly be dangerous if you're not paying attention, it's actually a fun game.
Sure, these things could be hazardous at times. But I still think it beats spending all day in front of a TV playing video games...
kw