Paul Simon sang — “When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school it’s a wonder I can think at all. And though my lack of education hasn’t hurt me none I can read the writing on the wall.”
I’m not exaggerating when I say my high school years were the worst four years of my life. Most everything I needed to learn I learned in kindergarten, picked up a thing or two as late as 8th grade, but I didn’t learn Jack Shit in grades 9 through 12. I had few friends. It was so bad, as you will see in the pictures below, not even Da Gooberment tried to protect me!
What they tried to teach me was mostly a Big Pile Of Bullshit. Here, let Pete Seeger ‘splain it to you in under two minutes.
It’s not that I wanted a lot of government protection. Eddie Billian (actual name), a wannabe jockfuk, picked on me almost every single day. I used to daydream about cutting off his hands in shop class. I would have been happy if they let me get away with just that, a Justifiable Amputation. Even after all these years … Eddie, if you’re reading this just know that if I ever run into you, I’m going to kick you in the fuck.
Unfortunately, we now have laws governing ………. everything. Laws we couldn’t even have imagined back in my day. Somewhere along the line we gave up our right to choose even simple things, and allowed the government to impose their standards upon us. As you read this, just ask yourself one question: —–“When will we tell the government we would rather die, than continue to be their mindless slaves?”
WHEN did we say, “To hell with this?”
OK, let’s get started.
That was the extent of the warning my mom gave me. Back in my day, there were well over 200 activities that could put your eye out! But, virtually none that could kill you. How much fun can a game be if there isn’t at least a small chance of death?
So, the kids on our block played an interesting version; each of us would get one jart and at the same we’d throw it straight up in the air as high as we could, and then we’d dodge the incoming hail of plastic and steel … the idea being to wait to dodge the missile until the very last possible second. One time a jart buried itself into Angelo Falcone’s foot, and he started to cry when blood oozed through his white Converse sneakers …. not because it hurt, but because his father was gonna kill him for messing up his sneakers!
It’s been shown that the business end of a jart can land with a force of several thousand pounds of pressure per square inch. Seriously. We Boomers may have ruined America, but we surely weren’t pussies.
By my own estimate, I believe jarts were thrown about 138.4 Billion times by 1987. In April 1987, seven-year-old Michelle Snow was killed by a lawn dart thrown by one of her brothers’ playmates in the backyard of their home in Riverside, California. She should have ducked. Previously, only two other children died. So, 138.4 Billion throws … 3 dead … do the math. Mr. Snow went on a crusade and by 1989 Congress banned jarts, again, but this time forever.
In one respect, I suppose it’s nice that in America one person can still make a difference. On the other hand, one person gets their way almost always at the expense of thousands of others. Isn’t this tyranny by the few?
In the news today the town of Westminster, MA (pop: 7,000) banned the sale of any and all tobacco products ….. a decision made by a THREE MEMBER Board Of Health. Three people who don’t give a damn that the overwhelming majority of the town does not support this action. Why …. that’s almost as bad as 317 million Americans being ruled by 535 criminals in Congress.
Back in my day, it seemed like everyone smoked. Watch an old episode of Perry Mason; Perry and Paul Drake smoked constantly … murderers smoked while murdering. Doctors smoked while delivering babies. You could smoke in a supermarket, in an airplane, or any restaurant. Teachers smoked. Students smoked in the bathroom. Doctors smoked Lucky Strikes. Even Father Joseph at my Catholic school, St Peter’s, smoked while greeting Sunday parishioners.
Asking “Mind if I light up?” was a mere formality. No one dared say, “No!” for fear of being labeled a pussy. Smokers smoked and there was zero lack of concern for those who didn’t smoke. Smokers weren’t forced outside …. non-smokers were! Those were the good old days of ‘IN YOUR FACE!’. It was a world full of adults who didn’t have anxiety attacks over a thousand different “safety” issues.
Whether riding a bike, or roller skating, or skateboarding …. NO ONE wore a helmet. If you did, your social life would have been over, kaput, finito … an outcast, destined for humiliation and abuse … especially in gym class. There were only two groups that wore helmets; football players and the mentally retarded. (Our own poster, bb, wore a helmet … and he wasn’t a football player.)
My dad’s first two cars didn’t have seat-belts. My first car, a 1958 Pontiac Chieftain, didn’t have seat-belts. When we did get cars with seat-belts, we didn’t wear them. They were a pain in the ass. Belts were made to hold up your pants, not bind you up in a seat. Child seats? Never heard of them. When we brought my new baby sister home from the hospital, my mom just threw her in the back seat … with me. I did put a Teddy Bear on the edge of the seat to keep her from falling off.
Sure, I’ll agree that seat-belts save lives. But, that’s not the point. It should be a PERSONAL decision … not one forced upon you. Besides, the gooberment doesn’t give a rats ass about your life …. otherwise they wouldn’t have sent 100,000+ young men to their deaths in various adventurous wars since WWII. Nosiree. “Click-it or ticket” is all about extracting more money from your wallet into theirs.
In case you didn’t read the ad … you must;
“Tanfastic lets the sunshine in. It’s not loaded up with sunburn protection like old folks and kids want. Tanfastic’s for you 15-to-25 year olds who can take the sun. Especially if you want to get superdark. Superfast.”
Got that? Back in my day we did NOT try to BLOCK the sun. Oh, no!! The goal was to AMPLIFY the sun’s rays. Get dark, baby .. real, real dark!! Screw that sun-screen shit. The only people who went the sunscreen route were those with medical conditions … like, albinos. My sister (I swear!) used to smear herself with butter. Other women (like, Nancy Pelosi) used Crisco. I swear that’s true. Back then few ever asked, “What could go wrong?” If it feels good, do it, and being a Darkie felt reeeeal good.
Sadly, that’s the world we live in today. I’ve seen parents hook up their children with what looks like a dog leash. A few weeks ago we went out to eat with Ms. Freud’s son and family. It was a nice day, so we ate outside in the patio area. As it so happened her grandson, Andrew, wandered off …. a few feet behind another table … when his mommie started freaking the fuck out … “WHERE’S ANDREW!! WHERE’S ANDREW!!!!!!”. It was so goddamn embarrassing, you have no idea.
During summer vacation from school, somewhere around 9AM I would proudly announce, “I’m going out to play!” Mom’s only response, “You better be home by dinner!” …. which was 6PM. Yeah, nine hours of unsupervised activity. Oh, you should know … I lived in Newark, NJ. I would wander literally MILES from home … either to Weequahic Park (a two mile walk), or to my best friend’s house in Irvington (a five mile bike ride … no helmet). Sometimes my dad would take me shopping to the lumber yard, hardware store, etc., and if I was a pain in the ass, meaning, I’d pester him to buy me shit, well … he would just leave me in the car once we arrived at the destination. Sometimes that happened during 100 degree weather. BOTH my parents would have been arrested, dozens of times, in today’s environment. I think it was Pogo who said, “We have met the enemy, and it’s us.”
That’s what my dad said when he was teaching me to ride a bicycle, and I was doing just fine, and then the sumvabitch let go, and then I freaked out, and then I fell, and then I scraped my elbow and hand badly enough to draw blood, and then I cried, and then yeah he said “Quit being a baby!”, and then mom came running and spit (yes, spit) in a hanky and then tied it around my arm with her kerchief (yes, kerchief), and then I got my (then) skinny ass back on the bike and then learned to ride it THAT very day. Our “first aid” kit consisted of Band-Aids and a bottle of iodine.
See the kid in the picture? He’s about to have his nuts rammed by a goat. See the adults? They think that’s funny as shit. We were tough back then.
Do you know the nutritional value of white bread? I’ll tell you. Less than zero. In other words, eating it actually extracts needed minerals and vitamins from your body. Wilson’s Mor was originally named Wilson’s Moron … cuz you gotta be a retard to eat it; pig’s head, snout, cheek meat, and even tongue. Their motto is “everything but the squeal” Yummy!!
As a child, I did not know one single adult, ever, who was concerned about getting this or that vitamin, or this or that mineral … except in commercials. We ate some of the crappiest “food” ever invented. Yet, we survived, and even thrived.
Compare yesteryear to Moochelle’s Mandated gooberment lunch. Below is a picture taken earlier this week by Darrel Bunch, a senior at Haskell High School in Oklahoma. WTF???
And Lastly …
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It was better that way. And that’s all I have to say about that.
Stucky… another great, thoughtful post. All your long essays have been wonderful.
About then and now, I have emotionally fond memories and rational observations.
The warm memories involve B-B guns, pellet guns, knife games, rock wars, fist fights, jumping into the swimming pool from the roof, all kinds of firecrackers, underground shafts and caves, bicycle recklessness (riding on the handlebars, shoes on the pavement for brakes), drag races out by the river, and some other stuff that was even more risky but panned out so I can smile about it now. That was then.
Then also included many friends and acquaintances who killed themselves in their cars. The high school and college years were grim reapers. Mostly it was driving too fast. Drink was a sometimes cause too. Generally lack of safe products and unawareness of product and situation dangers were behind many injuries and fatalities. My youngest brother and I almost drowned in different incidents because my parents weren’t careful about keeping an eye on us. Ignorance about food and lifestyle choices killed my mother and several of my aunts and uncles well before their time.
Now, product safety requirements (particularly concerning cars and the roadways) have saved many, including our eldest son – thank God for airbags. Other regulations and requirements (OSHA, traffic laws, liquor regulations, code enforcement inspections, and some others) that I’ve had experience with, I’m in favor of. Airline regulation has made commercial plane travel extraordinarily safe. All this has been imposed from the top, “by government imposing its standards upon us,” as Stucky says.
Although I’m more independent and self-reliant than most, I’m generally in favor of government safety regulation. Then and the good old days were great, as I first remember them. But they could have been better if someone had been forcing, encouraging, or educating all to buy, act, and think with safety and health in mind.
Jackson – people should look up the stats then and now re death by vehicle. The death rate was appalling back then – those old cars were death traps. Good riddance.
Iska did not get sufficient credit over on the Diner, just Billy. Damn shame.
Hey, Billy study up on Iska’s racist post, see what ‘subtle’ looks like.
Who am I kidding? The gulf between Iska and Billy is like the gulf between Marcello Mastroianni and Ryan O’Neal.
il douche has no fond memories but plenty of my buddies did.
Old Red said he and his brother were only 14 but they were already over 6 ft and so got into the strip show at the fair. Stripper was over 40 and in poor shape. Red said the more she took off, the more they cringed.
Old boss said his first car cost $50 and he painted it with spray paint.
Thanks to all that shared the good old days while we where free some others were plotting to take over ie Gorge Soros we let ower regard down now we left are country to the wolves of Wallstreet to sell everything yall worked for and the real face of these wolves are going to show there real faces repent Jesus is lord
Scouts were the BEST! Got my Eagle in 1969, graduated in 1970. Lake Erie was across the street, learned how to “fish” for minnows and small stuff with M-80s after watching PT 109.
Had a red, single speed bike, called it FireBall XL 5. Those that know will recognize that name.
Hit Stormin’ Norman one day when a skipping rock took a wrong turn. Hit him dead center and full speed in the forehead. Thought I killed him. A little swearing later, we just settled out of court.
Cut trees behind Granparents to build forts, camp out overnight in the woods. Dammed up the local ditch, an endless supply of minnows, crayfish, pollywogs, and salamanders. And an occassional BIG FRIGGIN’ black snake just crusing along.
We Scouts dammed up Turkey Creek one entire Friday-Saturday-Sunday beach campout. It changed course after the dam broke. ALWAYS we were outside and unsupervised (except for Scouts) until it got dark. No one flipped out or put tracker chips in their kids.
1971-1972, ran a Save More gas station part time while in college. GASOLINE was 24.9 cents and smokes 3 packs for a dollar. All taxes INCLUDED. Let’s see, 60 cigs per $1.00; that’s 1.67 cents each. And the companies selling, trucking, manufacturing, advertising, etc. all made money.
Good times, great comments.
(real men do not hold their dick in front of the urinal)
You do if you don’t want it to drag on the urinal cake.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-GRxJxdjQM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3sNriOp2nE&index=5&list=PL63DC1250C63BF4CC
OK, now for real NOSTALGIA Musical BLOW YOU AWAY, the AMAZING Jay BLack…
Start with the Original Recording of Cara Mia in 1964…
Now Jay Black in 2011….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRzAyx40Bzg
A Magic Moment…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLkhEmq-eJE
“The comments section of The Burning Platform is ruled by some of the most racist, misogynist, homophobic, red-neck assholes you’d never want to meet.”
Sounds like one of those phony-assed “tolerant” motherfuckers… they “tolerate” literally anything – the more depraved and debauched the better (hey, it’s not perversion! It’s a “lifestyle choice”)… except you disagreeing with them or not sharing their opinion… or dissent.
Fuck whoever “Eddie” is… and all the “Eddies” of the world…
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“– James
Are you gay?
Me too. So, don’t worry about it.”
I go both ways. So to speak.
Why would a gay man say that stuff about it being better when there were no openly gay boys in the Boy Scouts? I took this as a heterosexist / homophobic comment.
James said:
” I took this as a heterosexist / homophobic comment.”
That’s what happens when you jump to conclusions.
If guys want to spend their days looking forward to a stank butthole and hairy nuts in their face, more power to ’em! I just don’t see why it has to be anybody’s business but theirs. The retarded part is that the fudgepackers put their business out there for the world to see and then they don’t expect to be judged for it. Brilliant fucking idea! Then you all double down on the retard and invite the govt to get more involved in your lives. How dumb do you have to be to invite the govt, which destroys everything it touches, to get MORE fucking involved in your life. Maybe the ass-pounding you take damages brain cells?
Why not keep your fudgepacking private and act like the man that you appear to be in public?
My apologies Stuckeroo. Excellent post and predominantly excellent comments.
I started to post a comment but it got so long I decided to make it into a post of it’s own which I will submit later in the week so as not to steal your thunder.
“Why would a gay man say that stuff about it being better when there were no openly gay boys in the Boy Scouts? I took this as a heterosexist / homophobic comment.” ———– James
As a gay man, I know that my proclivities near the anal regions are VERY DISRUPTIVE to the status quo. There is no need for that. I remember the first time I outed myself. It was during a Pot Luck dinner at St Peter’s Church. Sister Mary Frances asked I wanted some hamburger, and I told her that I preferred Tube Steak. After I ‘splained to her what that was, she slumped forward into her bowl of pork ‘n beans and died right on the spot. Thereafter, I swore to keep my secret to myself …. until this post. Peace be upon me.
I_S
I just shot my wad regarding my thunder (see above post).
NOW would be a good time to post your article. Help me deflect the heat I’m about to receive from this site’s homophobes! Weekends are slow … a new original article would be g-r-r-r-eat.
I looked up heterosexist in the Straight Man’s Dictionary. It means “normal”.
[img]www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmFsJg-36zg[/img]
I was in boy scouts and we did have some that liked men… in fact all our scout leaders liked men.
But most of our dads worked alot.
ALL my troop Scout Leaders were my and other kids mothers.
Ooo, Stoppp itt Stucky. You are suchhh a thilly boy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmFsJg-36zg
This could have easily gone to 300 comments, it is more universal than soccer which got 301 comments. you guys have barely scratched the surface. senility creeping in? no one mentioned the honeymooners, red skelton, malt-o-meal, davy crockett, bomb drills, the assassination memories, gi joe, 45’s, sock hops, letter jackets, edsel, card board sleds, inner tube sleds, playing cards on your bike wheel, suicide knobs, ponytails, hair salons, sears,
when an old man dies, an entire history dies with him
Late to memory lane here, great post Stucky! It has been fun to read all the stories from everybody here that had similar experiences as myself and the kids I grew up with. The parenting being the same, be home before dinner, wait until your father hears about this your gonna get the belt, I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap, and all the rest.
I remember being gone all day riding my one speed Schwinn Typhoon, parents had no idea where I was and really didn’t care as long as I was home by dinner, no helmet, no money just a sense of adventure and the freedom to go and do what I wanted.
Rock fights and BB gun fights in the woods, nobody ever lost an eye and it was a ton of fun.
Sneaking off with cigarettes and parents booze and trying to look cool while trying all that for the first time.
Sitting in your tree fort with your buddies crowded around a Playboy magazine seeing what a naked woman looked like for the first time.
All day games of pickup baseball, tackle football with no pads, the occasional fight.
All good stuff and fun to think about from time to time, feel bad that things are so different today.
I was lucky and had a great bunch of original GI Joes and accessories. also had the Lost in Space robot and the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea sub. also had some HO scale electric trains, lots of plastic army men (I used to spend a lot of time lininng them up in armies). Plastic dinosaurs. Hmmm…
How about those big fabric covered coils that ,ust have been up to 8 feet long or so that were indoor tunnels you could get in and crawl through?
What about large toy “plush” stuffed snakes that were as big as you were (or bigger?) My brother and I each one of those when we were little and slept in bed with them.
I remember a small scale (say equivalent to HO) sci-fi plastic track and “space ship” type battery powered rovers that run on plastic track we set up. It was called “Shangri-La” city.
Or what about the Presto “Hot Dogger” to electrocute all your tasty and oh so healthy hot dogs?
http://blog.kevmo314.com/presto-hotdogger.html
GI Joe with Kung Fu grip!
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Then there was…. STRETCH ARMSTRONG!!! (who only lasted until we put him in the freezer overnight “to see what happened”…)
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Anyone remember Shrinky Dinks?
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And only the absolute best board game of all time!!
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I played this well into the 1990’s… we had Risk tournaments.. play for 8 or 10 hours, then someone else would take your seat and continue to play while you got some sleep… come back the next day, and the same game is still going… One epic game lasted a whole week…
To make it more interesting, we combined two games into one, plus added a new cards we made up…
– Safe Passage. Allowed you to traverse occupied territory to attack someone on the other side.
– Airborne! Allowed you a parachute drop of troops anywhere on the board. Roll of the dice determined how many troops landed safely.
– Storm the Beach! Allowed you one amphibious landing anywhere on the board, provided the country is in contact with a major body of water.
– Retreat into your supply lines. You could do like the Russians did and trade ground for troops. Every country you ceded to the enemy got you “X” number of extra armies.
– Mercenaries!! Playing this card got you extra troops. Roll of dice times 10 determines number of troops awarded.
– Chemical/Biological card Enemies troops get hit with the Black Death or with Sarin or Soman. Roll of the dice determines percentage of survivors.
Makes the game way, way more interesting…
– Nuclear card. Exactly what it says it is. You nuke your enemy. Roll of the dice determines percentage of survivors.
Hi Billy,
Man those were some great times, thanks for posting the pics. Sure wish I had all my old toys now, could make a killing on eBay but would probably just keep them. ( I Think that Lost in Space Robot, Mint in Box, would go for $10k now!!)
Oh, what about Matchbox cars when they came in their little box and were really neat? I bought some of these as “new old stock” in the late 1980s that I still have and they are from the exact time when I was little and loving those things (late 1960s, very early 1970s). I got into Matchbox before Hot Wheels came along so did not like the hot wheels as much but did love the hot wheels racing track and the ones that had the small engines in them that helped them zoom around the track.
Darn, I used to have that Matchbox carrying case pictured below too…
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who gave matchbox thumbs down?
I was born in ’78, and so grew up in the ’80s and ’90s in a large wooded suburb of Houston. Many of your childhood experiences were the same for my generation. I watched things begin to change in earnest, for the worst, just as I reached adulthood.
There were pussified kids then, with overbearing parents, but they were the minority. My large group of friends were rowdy – often bordering on delinquency. We had a great deal of freedom.
Before age 11 was characterized by building forts, shooting BB guns (and sometimes at each other), firecracker wars, riding bikes everywhere, marveling over Playboys, swimming in polluted water, lots of wrestling and rambunctious play & games. Most had Nintendos and the like, but that would get boring fast.
Ages 12 to 16.. our attention turned to cigarettes, pot, LSD, and alcohol. Now those were some fun times. Sneaking out. Corrupting girls. Many, many times did we run from the local constables on our bicycles, who seemingly had nothing better to do than chase teenagers with a few joints in their pockets who were hanging out at the playground after dark.
16 to 18. Cars. Keg parties. This period of my life was actually less fun than the ones previous.
Really, that whole period of childhood from say, age 8 to 18, was so action-packed I’ve almost forgotten much of it.
Anyway, nowadays, ‘culture’ and chemicals have conspired to rob young boys of a truly fun childhood.
Hi Elpidio Corona – Douche,
Regarding “who gave matchbox thumbs down? ” Probably one of those kids who grew up and latched onto Hot Wheels which, I have to admit, could roll a lot better, but were not as faithful models as Matchbox were. An age old rivalry! 🙂
Your Mustang reminded me of the car models we used to assemble with a little tube of glue
Longtime lurker, first time commenter. Just read aloud to my other half some of the best comments, for the nostalgia kick. He’s in his late 50’s and the shit he got away with, just like most of you, back in the day… Wow. I asked him for something to contribute to the thread. He reminded me of the time he climbed into the choir loft of the Lutheran church his family attended, while the service was being held.. He spotted a lady with a beehive (remember those?) and, typical of him, acted without thinking. He found a few roofing nails up there in the loft, and leaned over the railing and dropped the nails, one by one, into the lady’s beehive hairdo. I guess he was close enough that his aim was true. Anyway she felt something happening up there. Maybe the nails pricked her scalp and they felt like bites. And so her imagination ran away with her, and she screamed bloody murder right there in the service. She was batting at her ‘do and screeching that there was bees or ants or something in there, and of course the whole service was disrupted from then on. He snuck away before anyone noticed him, but let’s just say he was chronically in trouble for stupid pranks like these. Other stories include being the cause of his teacher’s 6 week leave of absence for putting a live kitten in her file cabinet, knowing full well she was terrified of cats. She screamed when she found it, jumped on top of her desk in her high heels, and so the principal had to come see what the commotion was about, and ended up having to give her time off for a nervous breakdown.
Being 17 years younger than him, my boyhood pranks can’t compare, although my friend Ryan and I tortured our 5th grade teacher in ways that make me ashamed, actually… She was ineffective at best. One day after she bitched Ryan out for something, he told me she looked like a chicken parading around in her high-heel thigh boots, and from then on we called her Mrs Bach (as in, bawk), and I drew cartoons about her, which made the rounds of the class. From then on, every kid sassed her something awful, til she pretty much lost control of the class. I remember one kid sticking yardsticks in his back pockets like chicken feathers, and walking around flapping his arms and clucking like a chicken. We were awful, but if we had done that today? Probably charged with felonies, the whole lot of us.
The dumbest thing my friend next-door and I did one winter was try to walk across the creek near our houses, thinking it was frozen enough to cross. It wasn’t. We sank to our waists in icy water and man were we chilled. We hoofed it for home, hoping to evade parental scrutiny, but my mom spotted us, all wet in the winter wonderland. (I know, I know, pathetic compared to some of the shit you all did.) Anyway I had to confess and got sent home to dry off before I caught cold. The neighbor kid was home alone a lot since both parents traveled for work. He never got busted for anything, but I at least had parents who were around more, and a big family who watched out for me while my parents worked. Some of the countryside jaunts and north country experiences of my boyhood remain fond memories, all the more so because I see kids nowadays who will never have such memories, being strapped into strollers by their helicopter parents. It’s sickening, and it’s getting worse all the time.
Thanks for letting me ramble. 🙂
PS: See, James? It’s possible to share a bit about myself as a man who is in a longtime relationship with another man, without making it a production of it. It’s better to just be yourself, to let your actions and integrity speak for themselves, and people will respect you much more than if you feel you have to make a point.
Regular Joe
Is the “See James?” for me?
I didn’t write the article. Stucky wrote the article.
I did NOT write this article.
It was a “Stucky” doppleganger!! A homophobe POS!!!
You guys are being so nice, for the first time in my life, I am proud of TBP.
Four more comments to 200!!
Giddy-up, horsey, giddy-up!!!!
No admin. Scroll up to see where “James” the “look at me prancing fag” buzzkill whined about Stucky’s gays in the boy scouts comment. James wants everybody to know he smokes pole but doesn’t want to be judged for it.
“No admin. Scroll up to see where “James” the “look at me prancing fag” buzzkill whined about Stucky’s gays in the boy scouts comment.”
Sorry, but where I come from we consider comments like this ugly and mean. And we think it’s fine if a Boy Scout happens to be same-sex attracted. And we feel obligated to point out that bigotry is not nice.
I’m glad I don’t live where you live.
I can remember when I finally got an electric football game, first kid in the neighborhood to get one, I thought the game was going to be cool as hell.
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After setting up all the players for a play you turn on the vibrating surface and the players would start moving in all sorts of random directions, never worked like we hoped, We spent hours and hours trying though good times. And it was cool.
PS –
Rabid homophobes like IndenturedServant are considered by many in the psychological and psychiatric world to very likely be suffering from repressed latent homoeotic inclination. It’s okay, IndenturedServant, I don’t think your repressed homosexual tendencies are anything to be ashamed of.
Really great piece, glad you wrote it.
My children constantly beg me to tell them stories about my childhood. They especially love the ones where I get hurt doing insane child stunts that easily could have ended my life but always wind up with nothing more than a little scar tissue. My folks bragged about having a deal with the local doctor to stitch me up.
A couple of things we did to add to the mix-
Smash-O-Fing-O was a favorite. One of my friends had a pool table in the basement. Each kid would stand at either end of the pool table with the fingers of his left hand curled over the rail. You could slide your fingers back and forth, but you could not take them off the rail. With your right hand you would attempt to fling the balls across the felt and smash the fingertips of the kid a the other end. It was a fast game and really exciting. If you took your fingers off the rail, you hand to put both sets of fingers on the rail without moving them and the other guy got a free shot. I remember we always had dark purple fingernails that Summer.
Baby doll flame throwers. We’d saw the top of a big plastic baby doll head off and the foot, too. You’d spray paint inside the head and then light it on fire and use the arm/leg as handles while another kid would spray paint through the foot and up into the hollow baby doll body. Flames would shoot out of the top of the baby doll head. We did this in the basement when it was raining out- no risk of fire or explosion there.
Once a friend and I took a big can of black powder and a bunch of models out into a field. We took the deck off a battleship model and filled it to the brim with black powder, then put the top on and sprinkled some more on it. I kept lighting the matches and tossing them at it (I think I must have sensed we were messing with something dangerous) and the matches would go out. My friend said “Not like that.” and proceeded to lean over it and light the black powder. I remember there was a cloud like you see out of a civil war cannon and my friend literally disappeared into it. We were both laughing like crazy until the smoke cleared and we realized he had burned off the front half of his hair, his eyebrows and lashes and completely scorched his glasses so the were opaque. We had to try and cover it up so we put on a hat, drew eyebrows on with magic marker and doused him with Hai Karate aftershave. He reeked of burned hair and cologne. I recall that there were beatings after that incident.
Life is full of risks, you don’t live unless you take them and you certainly can’t learn the most valuable lessons unless there’s feedback from bad decisions.
Thanks for posting that, I enjoyed the comments immensely.
HF — thanks.
Peaceout … you were obiously raised a 1%er. I got this el-cheapo carboard hockey game. Actually it was fun …. but all their heads fell off after one year.
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When I was high school my dad bought me a fussball table …. without the bunnies. We had endless HOURS of fun playing it.
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