According to Hofmann: Let go of my Legos
I find it odd that throw-away stuff from childhood normally ends up being ultra valuable.
For instance, kids in the late 1930s whose mothers used Action Comics #1, which was the first appearance of Superman, as a repurposed fly swatter can now see it being sold at auction for over $3 million; the Mickey Mantle rookie card — not the one used to flap around in the bicycle spokes — sold for $2 million dollars; and just think, way back in 5,000 BC — give or take a few BĢƵ — children using gold nuggets for a game a marbles would be millionaires if they, you know, lived long enough to see gold become valuable.
Basically, we never know whatĢƵ going to be super valuable from our childhood when we become adults, and by the time we do, itĢƵ too late to do anything about it.
Case in point: Legos.
An article I recently read stated that French police have been investigating an international ring of thieves stealing boxes of Legos from a toy shop with the intention of selling the hot bricks in Poland.
On the surface, the thefts appear to be completely money-driven as, basically, Legos aren’t cheap and some Lego boxes and special limited-edition sets can be sold to collectors for thousands of dollars.
I can attest to that because I once went into a Lego store with my stepdaughter, and a section caught my eye where you can buy a Lego set to build the Millenium Falcon from “Star Wars.” I was suddenly taken back to the age where I would feverishly assemble enough of the multicolored bricks and make something recognizable and special to me.
Because, you see, Legos help fuel that drive to achieve great feats of architectural wonders that remain in our DNA, which has caused us to create spectacular things like the pyramids and skyscrapers and Buffalo chicken dip.
I was so moved that I grabbed the box to go to the checkout line, but my eye caught the $300 price tag, and I promptly put it back on the shelf.
I thought I could find the Legos from my childhood that were kept in those big, plastic ice cream containers and maybe build my own Millennium Falcon, just with different colors of bricks, a dislocated GI Joe arm or two, duct-taped pieces and Jolly Ranchers that had fused to some of the Lego bricks.
However, I couldn’t find them and when I asked my mom, she told me that all of my Legos were thrown away when I discovered the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.
So, not only can I not build my trash-heap version of the Millennium Falcon, but my Legos that are now valued at hundreds of dollars — minus the Jolly Rancher-soiled blocks — are now buried somewhere in a landfill.
Good job, puberty, you got me again.
But I want to go back to the thefts, particularly the part of an international crime ring that has set its sights on Lego blocks.
From what I know about crime rings and Lego blocks (both from childhood experiences) I think thereĢƵ something more happening other than rich nerds wanting a life size Darth Vader helmet Lego kit.
ThereĢƵ no easy way to put this, but I believe those Lego thefts are part of a subtle, yet deadly invasion. Well, that was actually quite easy to relay, but the explanation may be more difficult.
In the painful transition to adulthood and fatherhood, I learned the toys my kid plays with normally ends up on the floor, which leads to me stepping on those items.
If you never stepped on a Lego in your bare feet, it surpasses the sensation of stepping on a jellyfish that secretes electricity and habanero pepper sauce.
Even if you wear boots, stepping on a strategically placed Lego block could cause you to twist and break your ankle and lose your balance to fall and break your neck. ThatĢƵ why you never see Legos at daycare centers any more; insurance companies won’t cover a place that has them.
During high-speed chases, criminals would often skip using oil slicks or grenades and toss Lego blocks out the window to disable the pursuing vehicle and cause a multi-car pileup.
So, basically, if criminals are stealing all the Legos they can find, and if a huge stash of Legos fall into the wrong hands, then we can have an international incident on our hands.
If you’re scared, you should be, but you also shouldn’t worry.
If those doing the deed are young enough, if we airdrop bundles of vintage and recent Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues down on these suspected areas, then everything will be okay.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, “Good Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One…and Dying, Too” and “Stupid Brain,” are available on Amazon.com. He co-hosts the “Locally Yours” radio show on WMBS 590 AM every Friday.