Fidget Spinners. Kendamas. Fushigi Magic Gravity Balls. These are just a few of the endless gadgets and doodads that have captivated the minds and hearts of lonely children in broken homes for generations. But they are also part of a lineage that starts with the mac daddy of novelty toys:
These fuckin’ things.
Remember these? Aw Hell Yeah Dude!
Picture this: It’s the morning of your birthday in 4th grade. You asked for two things: for your mom to stop being so sleepy after she has whatever “Vicodin” is and the magical trio of batons that you first saw at a school assembly about cyberbullying. Well you’ve been good all year, and one out of two ain’t bad.
You cut your fingers opening the piece of shit clamshell plastic package to unveil the expertly crafted instruments that might be your last chance to have somebody, anybody, pay attention to you. Notice how the ends are perfectly calibrated to balance on one finger with the conveniently placed marker in the middle. Watch the brilliant spectacle of the tassels as they whip to and fro, striking the fleshy outer coating of each baton with just enough give to remind you of the last time your mom’s ex-boyfriend, Harvey, hugged you as he said, “so long, kid.”
Now picture this: You’re you now. It’s the end of a global pandemic, and you buried Harvey in the cold, hard ground. Time has only made your mind and your arms stronger. Imagine the velocity you can toss that beautiful rod into the air now that you’re a grown up. The new year will be a time of healing and there will be no better way to kick it off than brushing the dust off of your old best friends and twirling your troubles away.