Before my time, but I inherited all this stuff from my older brother and sister. I had the microscope, the chemistry set, and oh man, did I have Erector sets. These are commercials strung together, so they’re full of marketing pitches. Let me clue you in. They didn’t begin to describe the awesomeness of these toys.
So I’m watching this Rube Goldberg contraption. It’s the shizzle. It rifles through Newton’s wastebasket, looking for new Laws of Motion after the first three aren’t enough to get the job done. It uses hydraulics, and electromotive force, and combustion, and every darn thing they can lay their hands on in the modern snouthouse. If it’s available at the mall, it’s integrated into the action. The hammer blow to turn on the power strip and start the fan is inspired.
Then, after 6 full minutes of glorious time wasting, you introduce some sort of porcine progeny, a water balloon, and what sounds to my ear like an off-camera F-bomb, followed by a mumbled punchline that spoils the joke.
There’s no sidewalks, and there’s too much traffic, she said. It’s dangerous, she said.
2017 Version
When I grow up, I want to be a: