Velociworld

NOSTALGIA!

Sorry it's late, but Li'l Kim means something entirely different in these parts, and that should be respected.

Let us begin with Newton's Swinging Balls. That would be Newton's Third Law of Motion: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Your Dad had the swinging balls on his desk, I know. So did my Dad. 2 balls made 2 balls swing, stagger the balls and they reciprocated, yada yada yada. It all led to

Click Clacks.

Brethren, there is no Google for these abominations. I've looked. They were acrylic balls about 16 inches apart, tethered by a string emboweled in their heart, with a washer in the middle. The object was to click and clack these things up and down till they shattered and blinded you. I truly wish I could find a picture. If you know them, cool. If you don't, get looking. Shocking toys.

I segue to Little Lotta. Tell me. What child walked into a convenience store in the '60's and said "Mama! I want the Little Lotta comic!? I really truly relate to that fat Crisco-hoovering, large-ass panty-showing, incredibly-out-of-condition blathering fucktard?" Why not Wendy, The Good Little Witch?
I'm just asking. Although in Arkansas I believe I could legally have more fun with Lotta than I could with Wendy. I think there are laws on the books against protoplasmic sex, but 13 year old obesibeasts are fair game. But I digress...

Next! Richie Rich.

No link for him. Fuck that little rich boy. Who would buy that comic, I ask? Where were the marketing geniuses there? I wanted to cane him like a Singapore spitter. Fuck Richie Rich.

Switchblades

Remember the first time you saw a switchblade? Cool grits. My sister brought my Dad one back from Mexico in '67. I was mesmerized. Of course, I'd also just seen Alan Arkin in Wait Until Dark, and I wanted a Geraldine that slid in and out on the push of a button. I'm still looking.

Okay. I had some issues with hot water bottles and chicken pox I wanted to explore, but screw it. I'm toast. Nite.