Something seems vaguely familiar about that netbook.
For those of you who didn’t drive past Leif Erikson about two weeks ago. Erikson appears to have put his viking hunting skills to use.
This is a public continuation of a conversation I had with my girlfriend this morning.
We were wondering how many other people can remember the moment when they realized that toys no longer were fun? Not your adult toys like jet skis, cameras, or hand guns, but the stuff you had while your age was in the single digits. Blocks, GI-Joes, a hoop with a stick, etc..
My moment came when I was about ten. My older brother’s friend came over and gave me this little toy metal truck he had to play with. I instinctively took it to the living room floor and started pushing it in circles. It took several laps until the newly forming adult parts of my brain woke up and sparked off some internal dialog†.
Adult Brain: “Why are you doing this kid? It’s not any fun.”
Child Brain: “But it is a toy truck. I’m suppose to be pushing it around and pretending that I am hauling away sacks of grain from the imaginary mill to be delivered to the grocer under the couch!”
Adult Brain: “Do you really think the imaginary people under the couch need you shipments of invisible wheat to stay alive any more?”
Child Brain: “Of course! They’ve always relied on my grain!”
Adult Brain: “Not for long sonny. You’re childhood is being pushed aside much like your pretend mill and grocer will be once that Wal-Mart under the ottoman finished construction.”
Child Brain: “Waaaa! I’m just a kid! Leave me alone! This is suppose to be fun.”
Adult Brain: “Not for long. Face the facts boy. You are not finding this fun any more.”
Child Brain: “You’re right. My childhood is dying. What should I do?”
Adult Brain: “Check in the bottom of daddy’s night stand for some matches.”
Child Brain: “Then what?”
Adult Brain: “Burn things!”
At that moment, I realized my innocent childhood was drawing to an end, and my simple toys would no longer be fun to play with.
Does anyone else remember this exact moment in their life? Please describe it in the comments.
†Some dialog may be embellished for dramatic effect.
Dear Duluth News Tribune,
Any time I find a stray newspaper at a coffee shop, or waiting room, my initial course of action is to go straight to The Family Circus so that I may gawk at the daily track-wreck of comedy it provides. The philosophical beating I take by trying to riddle out just what is it that Bil & Jeffy Keane think I should be laughing at has somehow become a masochist treat for my brain as the years go by.
In recent months though, this pleasure seems to be unhinged by the horrible way your layout editors treat this sacred circle. Attached is the comic as it appears from the syndication source, immediately followed by the beaten and bloodied corpse that gets spat onto your printed comics page.
The Family Oval shall not suffice. I’m sure Bil & Jeffy Keane would be aghast by the treatment you give their comic. Without a doubt, the Keane’s go to great lengths to make sure that Billy, Dolly, and little PJ’s heads perfectly resemble testicles in each and every one of their daily discs of unfunny. To unprofessionally scale them in the way that you repeatably do, should be taken as nothing less then an open handed slap to the face of both Bil & Jeffy Keane as you disgrace their little works of art.
Please, give the editor back his shift key so he can resize his images while constraining proportions. It will make us all happier at the end of the day.