At long last, a dream has been realized. I remember the day they were toted away, left in a bag in Iowa in 1977, never to be seen again. Upon arriving back in America in 1979, we asked, “where are they?” but silence followed. For years we pined for them. They reminded us of picnics, pink lemonade coming out of our noses, cousins frolicking and endless afternoons of Orange Push-Ups dribbling down our chins. But a dark era clouded over, and we thought we’d never see them again.
That’s right, ladies and germs, we just got back what was rightfully ours: A SET OF PRISTINE JARTS™ BRAND LAWN DARTS!!! Ronald Reagan and his evil Republican minions banned them from all 50 states, ordering them destroyed, but they couldn’t get all of them! That’s right, a refugee box from the time when Kids Could Have Fun has landed on our doorstep.
Yes, you nervous ninnies, we plan to be careful. We won’t play with them when Jamie’s kids are over. We’ll put them on a shelf that 5-year-olds can’t reach. And when we actually play, we’ll put Chip in the kitchen with Chopes. No need to ruin two of the greatest minds of the 21st century.
But you can bet your ass we will be playing Jarts™ until we get repetitive motion disorder. We will have tournaments. There will be betting money involved. We will get so good at Jarts™ that shit will be talked. Manhoods will be called into question. It will be a cultural movement that will tear asunder the pusillanimous memories of Rubik’s Cubes and Hula-Hoops. It will ROCK.
As soon as the ground unfreezes.