nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, panic spreading far and wide… who can turn the tide?

No matter how hard I try, I’ve found that I simply cannot read Baltasar Gracián without thinking about Battlestar Galactica at some point along the way. Am I right, people? OMGLOL. I’m referring to the old version from the 70’s, mind you, and not the new one. Because retro is cool, but you aren’t. Not really.

So I was in the Wal-Mart this morning to pick up a lime squeezer and some astringent which was meant to be a gift for you because of your acne but now I’ve blown the surprise so I’m taking it back and you’ll have to suffer our continued ridicule (pizza the hutt), when I saw how The Man has re-released G.I. Joe action figures.

Joy!

I bought me a Cobra Commander to spread mayhem and destruction all over my desk at work, but it must have slipped my mind that a good manager delegates. I learned that in the management seminar I went to, so re: the mayhem and destruction: no can do.

But never fear, we’ve got a plan: I’m going back to the Wal-Mart to buy a Destro. Maybe also that guy that changes colors. Possibly the snow ninja too, you never can tell. But not Scarlett.

Never Scarlett.

I had her early on as a kid before the swivel-arm battle grip, and let me tell you that only being able to bend at the elbows and knees is one handicap that isn’t worth the good parking spots. It makes the pretend G.I. Joe sex come across as rigid and prudish, and that’s something that has haunted me to this day.