Spent the weekend on the Long Island Sound (the CT side) with Sylvia and a posse of her friends. Kristen, whose family owns the house, collects a huge variety of novelty toys. Things like electronic fart simulators, confetti guns, squeezable talking plush dolls, etc.
And the American Idol Sonic Mace.
I didn’t recognize it as a microphone when I first picked it up. Instead of a mic head, it had a vague dome that produced an echo chamber effect when you sang into it. The block underneath it, normally reserved for the broadcaster’s logo, was twice its usual size. And maybe it was just me, but the corners seemed a lot sharper. I pictured Randy Jackson descending from the heavens in a chariot pulled by six-legged goats, swinging it over his head. “VERILY, A LITTLE PITCHY THERE, DAWG!”
I can’t find a picture of it on Google. Probably because it was discontinued, which was probably because it’s a better weapon than an amplifier. The only thing it amplifies is rage.
Despite this, the confetti gun was the only thing used as a weapon that weekend. One of the host’s friends brought his children. The 11-year-old put the pistol right against his 3-year-old brother’s stomach, Murder Inc. style, and pulled the trigger. The 3-year-old got a tiny burn and ran off screaming. All parties questioned agreed that the incident was (1) kind of a downer and (2) only to be expected, given the age and gender of the parties involved.