Terrible Analogies

Cleaning up Tyler’s toys, we couldn’t help but notice that Elmo appeared to have a rough night last night:

Proof positive that Muppets simply can not hold their liquor…

What happened to the playgrounds of my youth?

I distinctly recall metal slides that would be dangerously hot to the touch in the noontime sun, flinging myself into the void from the swings, climbing four stories up within the guts of metal rocket ship, seeing how fast we could get the merry-go-round to spin, swinging from ring to ring on a metal trapeze, standing 15 feet above the ground on a metalwork half dome, carefully navigating a cargo net made of chains, and tip-toeing my way through broken glass buried in the playground sand.

Nowadays it seems as if everything is made of plastic, rounded corners and safety-conscious rubber.  The sand has been replaced with a soft spongy material, and there’s not a link of chain nor sheet of super-heated metal in sight.  I feel a bit saddened knowing that the dangers of my youth have been toned down and minimized to such an obscene level.  No longer is it a case of survival of the fittest on archaic playground equipment.  Gone is the rust, dirt and dizzying heights that intimidated the weak and challenged the uninitiated. The hazardous haven of my youth has been covered in foam and bubble wrap to minimize the factious threats inherent in our litigious happy society

I’m just glad that not all dangers have been completed eliminated.  It brings a smile to my face to know that somewhere in the world dangerous playground equipment still exists:

Man, that kid had a kung-fu grip…

Call me self-centered, but I simply can not wait for Tyler to get old enough to begin playing with one of these bad boys:

And yes, I will be playing with it right along with him

My sister gave me an Amazon gift card recently, and before I could thank her (thanks, sis!) I knew what I wanted to use it for.  That’s right…a new 6×6 Rubik’s Cube.

Or, more precisely, a new V-Cube.  Created by a Greek designer and produced in Greece (think they can sell enough of these to get their economy back on track?), the V-Cube represents the natural evolution of the classic Rubik’s Cube.  The mechanics aren’t as smooth as my Eastsheen cubes, but I’m quickly getting used to it, and have noticed that the movement has become a bit more fluid after a day of playing with it.

On my first night with this V-Cube I managed to solve it in two hours by using known patterns.  A day later and my time is now down to less than 30 minutes.  Many of the same algorithms that apply to the previous cubes can be ported to the 6×6, with one new algorithm required to complete the center cubie section.

The V-Cube is slightly larger than the 5×5, and is noticeably heavier.  This is one hunk of plastic that feels good in the hands.  There’s a solid click with each rotation that you’ll want to keep an ear out for to avoid lockups.

Here are scans of the package insert (click on them to embiggen).  Instructions on how to assemble one of these bad boys can be found here.

I was chowing down on a bag of Cracker Jacks this weekend, and in between glutenous, sticky handfuls of carmel-coated popcorn goodness I took a moment to admire the bold statement “Prize Inside” emblazoned on the packaging.  

Per Webster, a “prize” is defined as:

1 : something offered or striven for in competition or in contests of chance
2 : something exceptionally desirable
3 archaic : a contest for a reward : competition

Wow, prize inside, huh?  I find this to be an odd turn of phrase.  What did I do to earn this “prize”?  I mean, it wasn’t like I ran a sub-four minute mile, solved the Goldbach conjecture, or provided indisputable proof of life after death.  All I did was open a bag of junk food and bam, I came into possession of a prize.  Talk about the decline of expectations in a generation suffering from a severe case of entitlement-itis.

To satiate my unfulfilled need for instant gratification I think I’ll hit up the cereal boxes in my pantry next.  I’m sure there are more “prizes” to be had there that can stroke my ego and give me the feeling of accomplishment in my otherwise drab existence…

Note: Don’t believe for a moment that the “prizes” inside the modern day Cracker Jack are “exceptionally desirable”.  They are a pale imitation of what once was.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been informed by these “prizes” that George Washington was our first president.  Give me a good ol’ fashioned plastic kaleidoscope or even a few water soluble tattoos, and then we’ll talk…