There's been an influx of catalogs in my mailbox. But that's to be expected--Christmas is only two months away. I'm already bracing myself for smelling peppermint and cinnamon potpourri while hearing Jingle Bell Rock in every department store on November 1. That's probably why I do more and more of my shopping online.
Some of these catalogs have been confiscated by Jack who only brings them out of his room long enough to say "Get me everything on this page." And the page is invariably the spy gear page. Between the night vision goggles, long distance walkie-talkies, laser tripwire and spy watch that's bigger than my head, I get the feeling he wants me to be Q. Without getting into any debate over Desmond Llwelyn vs. John Cleese, I only provide the financial backing for the gadgets.
But what gets me is not just all the cool stuff on the page, it's that it's the exact same cool stuff that was on these pages when I was a kid, and I wanted them all then, too. I wanted to be the super spy hanging from a tree and watching people without them knowing, gathering important intel on what was for dinner.
I honestly think I got just as excited about this catalog as Jack did. There's a part in all men that still wants the toys, it's just that the toys eventually change from remote controlled helicopters to hunting rifles or Fender guitars. And you begin to realize that the lack of gadgets and government finance combined with stunts that required professional rock climbers is what makes Jason Bourne superior to James Bond. More on that at some point, I'm sure.
So who's buying me the laser tripwire for Christmas?
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