Saturday, December 6, 2008


Lego. Yes, the name is foreign. But dang if Legos aren't as American as Apple Pie. And, yes, Legos are a huge choke hazard to small children and pets. But my parents looked past all of the negatives and got me an awesome set for Christmas when I was four years old. This had to have been before warning labels were mandatory on all things including Pop Tarts.

The late-Seventies was filled with only two things: Star Wars and things that reminded you of Star Wars. And my parents didn't deviate from that formula. They bought me the huge Galaxy Explorer set. Or, for all you collectors, Lego set 928.

This set had hundreds of pieces. And, yes, it came with that handy-dandy instructions booklet.

But come on. How many kids actually followed those instructions? Nope. I just looked at the box and began creating. Sure, my final product was some sort of mutant spaceship that would fall apart at a cat's hiccup. But it was my mutant spaceship.

Oh, and my jealousy rages at this guy's abilities:

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