I’m just trying to be clear about this, because I know that this is a time to give thanks and all that – and I did thank my brother profusely for my new Favorite Object In The World, the swank, collector’s glass with a picture of 1976 King Kong on it, fighting with a giant snake.
I would include a picture of it, but Kimberly Kinrade just recently convinced me that I shouldn’t put actual pictures of my kids up on my blog, and I’m thinking, well if I can’t put pictures of my kids up there, then I’m sure as hell not going to flash around a picture of my new King Kong glass. That’s just asking for trouble.
Now, the reason my brother picked up the glass is that when I was five and he was seven, a few well-meaning adults attempted to normalize us by getting us into baseball card collecting. We were two very strange kids, so that was a nice if misguided idea, since at the time neither of us knew how to play baseball, or what to make of any of the names or stats on the backs of the cards, or even really how to recognize a baseball if it was sitting in the middle of the floor.
Yes, but just walk us over to the baseball card section at the drugstore, give us a buck apiece and tell us to pick something out, and you can bet we’d figure out that there were Giant Movie Monster cards, too. Nice try, Normalizers.
As you probably guessed, the picture on my new King Kong glass is the same one that was on the longest-surviving King Kong card that we had – so after all this time, the Circle of Kong is finally complete. See why I’m so super serious about this now?
As you probably already know, the 1976 King Kong was the best Kong movie ever. I know that you might be partial to the old claymation one, just because it was so amazing and groundbreaking and they had nothing to work with and it changed cinema and blah, blah, blah. I’m sure it was awesome, back when everybody was huddling around their radios at night to listen to the freaking Shadow.
Okay, in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the original, but so what? I saw bits and pieces of it, and it looked like King Kong and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer were about to go and save the Baby New Year. But when you read the synopsis, that’s not what happens at all.
It’s more like a puppet show version of the cool, 1976 version, which I think they ripped off sixty years in advance somehow. I haven’t yet hammered out the details, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and uncharacteristically suggest that it had something to do with time travel.
Anyway, it’s not just my opinion. The version I haven’t seen – objectively, it’s nothing compared to the one that’s a treasured part of my childhood.
And just in case you think I’m being self-centered or just plain old stupid, I had a couple of buddies of mine at NASA run all of my calculations through their supercomputers, and I’m right. You can argue with me and my rocket scientist friends if you want to, but that sounds frustrating and stubborn, frankly, and as you probably noticed, I’m pretty busy.
And it’s not that I didn’t like Peter Jackson’s modern, super-charged version, it’s just that – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – there is such a thing as Too Many Dinosaurs. Clearly, anyone who started saying anything like that to Peter Jackson got booted off the set. Too many dinosaurs makes the dinosaurs seem more like extra CG wackos in the digitally screwed-with Star Wars bar.
If everybody at school has a Tron tee shirt on, then it kind of takes the molten coolness out of the one you’re already wearing, you know?
Don’t worry, though, Mr. Jackson, you came in third, right behind the Japanese King Kong Vs. Godzilla. Don’t thank me, buddy, that’s NASA talking.
Anyway, with the Christmas season next on the list of things that are supposed to trick me into being positive all the time, I just wanted everyone – my children in particular – to be aware that the spirit of giving and sharing and all that will not apply to my new King Kong glass, which is mine, mine, mine.
Even if you see it in my cupboard, just sitting there doing nothing, and you start thinking, oh, I’ll just drink out of that swank King Kong glass and then wash it and put it back later, and nobody will ever know – I’m here to tell you to keep your hands off it. Because you will not wash it or put it back later. You will just leave it around someplace, or you’ll fill it up with oil paint or something. Or you’ll break it, old-fashioned style.
And also, you don’t know when I’m going to come blasting in the front door, running straight to the cupboard for my New Favorite Object. If that happens while you’re standing there drinking a milkshake out of it, you better hope you have a big pit full of sleeping gas in front of you.
Now, this is a tricky and ambiguous concept, I know, so let me be even more clear. Even if you intend to fill the King Kong glass with dry Cheerios and then eat them with your paws in front of the television watching an actual King Kong movie, that still counts. Because I can just hear you saying, well I’m not drinking out of it so it’s not a glass. I’m eating cereal out of it so it’s a tall, narrow bowl.
I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if you make up a new name for my King Kong glass, and it doesn’t matter if that new name makes perfect sense. It doesn’t matter if you’re drinking out of it, eating out of it, making sandcastles with it, or just hiding it to enrage me. It’s still mine, and you can’t touch it.
See, I like to drink my juice out of it in the morning, so I can hold it up in a sunbeam and make hissing and roaring noises. King Kong ends up ripping that snake’s head right in half, you know. Go ahead and make fun, then you won’t even be allowed to look at it, let alone drink out of it.
I’m the boss of the King Kong glass, you dig?
Yes, I’m an adult and no, I’m not intoxicated. Why does everyone keep asking me that?