Sure, things were simpler then. Kids didn't have any of that hoo-ha they have today, your Wii and your i-Pod, your dungarees and your bebop and whatnot. But trust me, it was never as boring as this:
Really? Seriously? Why would any kid want to play with this? How would any kid play with this? The denizens of The Island Of Misfit Toys would recoil in horror from this. I realize The Waltons was popular--the damn thing was always on every Thursday night at my house, not that anyone but Dad seemed to actually pay attention--but that doesn't mean kids wanted to get together with their friends and play "loving Depression-era family". No child ever enthusiastically said, "I get to be Grandpa!" or "I get to carry the firewood!" or "I can't wait to get home so I can assemble my action figures around a kitchen table where they'll sit silently listening to old-timey radio!" Did someone at Mego expect kids to make up rambling, psuedo-poetic Earl Hamner-style narration to accompany their playtime?
This may not be the most pointless product ever to appear on the market--consider Mr. Microphone or Fruit Brute--but it may well be the saddest.
