Shootin' Buddy and I were reminiscing in the car about Big Little Books. I whimsically thought it might be fun to re-read a couple that I remembered from my childhood, especially the one where Lassie and her master find the frozen mammoth in Alaska, and then a tree falls and pins the man to the ground and Lassie... anyway... I thought it might be a lark to track some of these down and re-read them and see how they'd aged.
I assumed they were probably collectible, and it turns out they are.
What I didn't expect is that they'd technically be illegal. That's right: The Safety Nazis, the GreenShirts, are banning the sale of old children's books in the name of safety.
I don't think I've ever felt quite the quiver of rage I felt at that moment.
I will adapt to my cigarettes getting messed with; I will improvise and overcome if you want to take my bayonet lug away; but I am this close to saddling up and busting caps over The Wizard of Oz.
Keep your slimy, regulation-encrusted hands off my childhood, you bastards. I'm not kidding.