I’m enjoying having a five year-old nephew. I mean, I’ve always thought he was a great guy; what I mean is that I enjoy buying Christmas presents for him. Between all of the Star Wars stuff and Lego technology available, it’s a good time to be a kid. I bought him this Jenga Fett doll action figure that has a removable helmet, working rocket pack, laser rifle, incredible details, and he talks, makes laser sounds, has battle-sensitive noise electronics, and I think he can also do taxes. When I was a couple of years older than Phillip, I got the same size Boba Fett action figure, and while he did have Six Million Dollar Man-esque eye lens that enabled you to look in the back of his head and see out his eyehole, it didn’t have any of the electronics. And my Millenium Falcon had two C-cell batteries in a side door with a button that you pressed to get a “BZZZZZT” sound that didn’t resemble the sound of lasers and thrusters, but rather the old-school doorbell on my Grandma Mamola’s house in St. Louis. NOW, the Millenium Falcon made from the same molds has incredible battle damaged paint, plus I think the sound chip plays every single second of Millenium Falcon footage in actual 5.1 THX Dolby Digital sound. (Oh well, that battery compartment made a handy storage space for Yoda and other small shit cargo.)
Okay, just had a phone call with my sister (not Phillip’s mom, the other one) and I don’t have much more to say other than the fact that my kitchen smells like something died in there, so I’m going to fill it with Lysol to a depth of about three feet and see if that helps.