Toys

I try to be hip when it comes to the toys my kids like to play with. I like to think that I know all or most of the names of their favorite characters and that I can tell them apart. But no matter how hard you try you can never win.

My son has two Boba Fett action figures from Star Wars. They are all but identical, except perhaps that one has red gauntlets and the other has gray. The other night my son asked to take 3 toys to bed with him; Boba Fett and two Obi Wan Kenobi figures (that really are identical). So I scrounged around and I found the Obi Wans and a Boba Fett. I tossed them in his bed while he was taking a bath and then I went to his sister's room to read her a bed time story.

Later that night I was told by my wife that I had gotten the wrong figures. "Really?" I said. "I thought I had gotten what he wanted."

"No," said my wife. "You gave him the wrong Boba Fett. I had to dig around for ten minutes in his toy box to find the correct one."

"Well how on earth was I supposed to know it was the wrong one?"

"That's what I said," she said. "I finally found the other Boba Fett and when I held them up side by side they looked the same to me. So I asked him, 'Cole, how are these guys any different?' And Cole held up the one I had just found and said, 'This one is undefeated.'"

So there you go. You might know the names of your kids toys, but only your kids know what they are capable of.

Fortune Cookie

So I had some sushi, which I love, and I got a fortune, with which I have a love hate relationship. I don't have a love hate relationship with these fortunes because sometimes they are bad. I have a love hate relationship with them because sometimes they are good. Very good even. But they never come true.

This past week, however, I opened my cookie and found a fortune that should never be given to someone who is slightly paranoid. My fortune read:

The truth will be revealed to you in time.


Well, dammit. That fortune says so much, without actually saying anything. Quite literally it says that the truth will be revealed to me in time. But what does that really mean? To a paranoid person it means that someone is lying to me. Some truth is being hidden from me!

And what does it mean by "in time?" Is it even possible to reveal something out of time? Can something be out of time? Not in the sense that there was a time deadline and it passed. Can something be separated from time? I don't think it can.

So basically all the fortune told me that there is a lingering lie (perhaps more than one) out there of which I am not aware.

There is a vague notion of hope that this truth will be revealed to me eventually, but there is no guarantee that it will be in my lifetime. I can see, in the future, my casket being lowered into the ground with my wife and kids standing next to the hole. "I was always disappointed in you," my wife would say. "I didn't think you were funny," my daughter would chime in. And my son would finish with, "It wasn't the cat that pooped on your pillow."

Or maybe I'll just get to heaven and find out. I'll be walking along some peaceful river and I'll meet God fishing on its bank. "Hey God," I would call out. "Hello, Michael," he would say pleasantly, waiting for a bite on his line. "You know, God," I would say, "I want to apologize for never reaching my full potential in life." "Oh it isn't your fault," he would say, "I didn't want you to succeed. I never really liked you."

I don't suppose it would do any good to contact the fortune cookie company and ask them for some specifics.

Paranoia

I know that it’s probably just paranoia, but I always get suspicious when a car starts up right as I’m walking out of my building. Though I leave my office at an unconventional time I am certain that there must be ten or twenty other people who leave on or about the same time as I. Surely one of these could have made it to their car to ignite the engine just as I was stepping outside.

The fact that I frequently have to jump out of the path of cars careening in my direction is more a testament to the growing number of drivers sending text messages than it is a sign that someone is trying to hurt me. Right?

And when I’m running to my car – which I do most days as my mind has escaped the bonds of reason and can rarely be dissuaded from the ludicrous notions that I am in grave danger – it is pure coincidence that I hear bullets whizzing by my ears and ricocheting on the ground in front of me. No doubt they are not even bullets I hear, but swiftly moving birds or perhaps gravel kicked up by a passing bus. Those innocent bystanders who fall in a bloody heap are probably succumbing to the same psychological powers of suggestion that have caused my mind to loosen its grip on reality.

So, there’s nothing to worry about, right? This is normal and happens to all of you, dear readers, as well, yes?

Same old, same old/and a Review

I checked again...

I'm still not magic.

I'm convinced that there should be magic in the world, but that some time in the past some jackass ruined everything somehow. Did s/he absorb all of the magic and then fade into oblivion? Did s/he banish all magic to another dimension?

I don't know.

All I know is that I'm pretty certain I should be able to throw fire, but I can't. I've held my hands in just about every way you can think of. I've said every word for fire I can imagine. I've done summoning poses like Moses parting the sea. I've don't fancy wind-ups like professional baseball pitchers. I've even tried flicking fire like a Frisbee. Nothing. Not even smoke.

My kids are disappointed too. They haven't said so, but I can tell. I don't even think they are aware that I am a magical failure. But to date I have performed no feet more spectacular than juggling, winning Mario Galaxy and being immune to all their attempts to tickle me. Granted, these three accomplishments fascinate them beyond belief, but I suspect they are anxious for me to take my magic to the next level and I cannot.

I should be able to throw fireballs. Or at least make the cat box clean itself. But to date the most magical thing I can do is yell, "STOP BOUNCING ON THE COUCH" from another room. "How did you know we were on the couch? We can't get away with anything!"

This is only magic to a 6 year old.


REVIEW
THIS MAGICLESS WORLD:
sigh - less than enchanting

As soon as I find out where the magic cork is I'm removing it. Then I'll be able to throw some serious fireballs.

I bet I could get a job in the circus juggling fireballs. Can you juggle a fireball that you've created? If it comes out of one hand, will it burn the other? I'll let you know.