Fri 20 Nov 2009
This Bloody Time Machine Doesn’t Work
Posted by laup under Discussion, Meditations, Outbreak, Playtime
[2] Comments
Traveling back to a point in time where I was but a young boy in the single digits of age, there was a time when I was most disappointed to learn that phony time machines were being sold in stores as the real thing. Imagine the nerve of such people! Ripping you off from your parents’ hard-earned dollars for a mechanism that fails to achieve your desired purpose.
At the local toy store, I spotted a model. I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of what a model was, or what its purpose might be. I figured the awesome illustrations on the boxes were truthfully depicting the experience you could hope to have should you obtain the box, or somehow put the thing together (which ought to be very easy, without need for glue or paint).
The model as presented was a capsule time machine with a door you could open. Inside would be a time traveler sitting down at his control panel, pulling a lever that would activate his journey. Close the door and open it again, and you would find the traveler on the ground facing a group of hungry dinosaurs. How cool is that!?
Alas, after opening such kits, all you find are a large number of plastic parts. Putting the capsule together proved easy enough. The two scenes were actually part of a rotating door and floor in the capsule. There was a mechanism that turned the scenes from one to the other. I wasn’t able to figure that out and consequently had to manually turn the knob to make the scenes change inside the capsule.
The scenes were not easy to put together or paint. Glue just wasn’t my specialty, and my handling of model paints was abysmal. You may as well have given a caveman an automobile to put together. The finished product hardly looked like the amazing pictures on the box.
It dawned on me that I wasn’t going to actually end up with a working (if limited) time machine. Instead, what I had was a piece of laughable piece of junk, glued and painted with amateurish skill.
What a rip off!
dear p of hidden and unhidden treasures:
alas, those machines with the plastic parts are nothing compared to the glorious, hidden faculties inside the likes of you.
many times i’ve wished to be as good as my idea of plastic parts.
funny to compare myself to such ridiculous things.
laughable.
abysmal.
rip off.
then there’s what i (or u) may actually experience. which is:
fundamental.
evanescent.
extraordinary.
your journey to the top of the stairs of the shrine.
the junk gazebo up there which you didn’t mind because it was so wet, and you were wet, too.
your amazing catch in the fishing thinggamabob your cousin taught you: ah! your own damn treasure!
brother. thank you. for having a damn (blessed?) treasure.
a cup of coffee, black, for all you are. all you see. all you don’t see.
all you write. all you don’t write. all that is. all that isn’t.
spoons, and noh spoons.
huge all hail.
your,
x
Hek sistah, thanks. I swear, there’s times you can come in all pink screaming with a cleaver, or ride by like Emily Dickenson on a Harley. And then there’s the times you say the kindest, gentlest of things just so. Thanks for seeing this stuff and hailing, yore hek-brutha.