I've been reading comic books for the better part of three decades, which means I spent years having toy soldiers advertised to me. I do not recall my ever having acquired tiny, inarticulate toy soldiers on purpose. I had some of these cheap bastards in my wee years, but I can't recall ever crying and whining "Please-- I want toys with as little play value possible involving guns and casualties!" My most vivid memory of toy soldiers as a child was holding a mine sweeper in my tiny little hands and wondering what exactly I was meant to do with this piece of shit. "Look out, he has a wand! He may perhaps use it to field a hockey puck, or collect loose change and lost fillings on the beach!" There is not one G.I. Joe in all of creation with a penis small enough to sodomize this useless cunts. I think I accidentally broke Dr. Mindbender's codpiece off, and he still had too much love nub.
But see, at least the comic book ads had grand illustrated spectacles of epic conflict... except this one. Who would buy these shitty little toys based on an ad featuring a pre-ocular-degenerative Paul Pfieffer staring at a more fully realized game of "Stratego" than anyone ever cared to play? My friend Dave would tell "Paul" to die in a fire, which would add some value to the Army Men, if their being placed in an oven set said "fire." I myself am not so cruel, but I do have a sudden urge to masturbate to Winnie Cooper...
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