Socialism and the GI Joe Adventure Team Playset

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Recently, I found myself engaged in a discussion of socialism, right?

Now, the upshot of socialism is this: the results of production (food, products, and so forth) go into a common pool, and everyone gets what they need at any given time, while working to ensure high production so there will be plenty in the pot, right? And ultimately, no one has to work very hard, because everyone’s putting stuff IN but only taking out what they NEED, right? Plus maybe a little extra for holidays and suchlike.

Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s oversimplified, but that’s how I understood the system to work.

Anyway, to make a long story short, the argument I got into was this: Is Socialism Possible If You Arrange The Culture In Such A Way That Socialism Is The Norm? In short, if everybody grows up socialist, without greed or capitalism, would socialism work?

My answer: No. Socialism is against human nature. You make something, you want to keep it, not hand it over to a commissar.

“Prove it,” came the reply.

I was stuck. I mean, I BELIEVE my answer… but how could I PROVE it?

…and then… I remembered Rocky Belicec, and the GI Joes.

Now, you have to keep in mind that in the ancient days of my childhood, GI Joes weren’t the piddly little three-inch things they are now. No, no, no. Back then, they were the big twelve-inch-tall super-articulated monster collectible things, although we didn’t know they were collectible yet.

I had three Joes, which already put me ahead of some of my friends. But that bastard Rocky Belicec, down the street, that sonofabitch got the Adventure Team Headquarters playset for Christmas, and the fucker never let anyone forget it. I haven’t seen the little fuck since 1973, but I’d bet you anything he’s still gloating about how he has the Adventure Team Playset. I mean, he’d be pushing forty, now, but I bet he still has the fucking thing.

Rocky’s WORLD revolved around the GI Joe Adventure Team Playset. It was, in many ways, an obsession for him, and an obsessed six-year-old is a scary thing to see. Furthermore, when one played at Rocky’s house, ROCKY’S GI Joe was the Leader of the Adventure Team… because Rocky had the Adventure Team Playset.

It didn’t MATTER that both Larry and I had the Talking GI Joe Commanders, and Rocky didn’t. Either he was in charge, or the Adventure Team Playset was not available for use. Hell, it was only after two fights and considerable whining that he finally agreed that Talking GI Joe Commander could be in charge… but ONLY when the Adventure Team Playset was in use at someone ELSE’s house. In the Belicec Home, the owner of the Adventure Team Playset was supreme…

Anyway… he soon discovered that there was a side effect to having the Adventure Team Playset. His parents then refused to buy him any more GI Joe accessories. “What do you need THAT for?” they said. “You’ve got the Adventure Team Playset.”

…and over time, I think this began to drive him slowly insane. Y’see, my folks never did buy me the Adventure Team Playset, but they did buy me other little accessories. One time, Dad came home with the Undersea Adventure set, which included a little wet suit, tanks, mask, “Sea Sled” (a cool sci-fi looking scooter thing) and a rubber shark. I loved that stuff. I played with it to death. Found sunken treasure, musta killed that shark about fifty times. It was even more fun, since I knew how to remove Joe’s leg at the knee in such a way that you could pop it back on, so sometimes the shark won, too.

So, one day, Mom decides to invite Mrs. Belicec over for cards, and she brings her son Rocky, who of course brings all his GI Joe stuff, because he knows I have GI Joe stuff… and for the length of a very long afternoon, I spent my time working very hard at not strangling Rocky.

I mean, he did everything but point and laugh. “Yeah, well, you have a toy sled and a rubber shark, but I have the Adventure Team Playset!”

We eventually wound up having two completely separate GI Joe adventures, on completely different sides of the room. And Mom made me share with him, because he only had one GI Joe. It was not among my happier childhood memories.

Bastard.

But over time, it began to eat at him. My grandfather gave me the Paratrooper Set not long after that, and I had a great time, flinging Joe up in the air as hard as I could, so his parachute would open and he’d come drifting softly back down to earth. His parachute was pretty large, and it WORKED!

Downright magical, when you’re seven.

Now, this REALLY began to eat at Rocky. I mean, he still had the absolute best accessory ever developed for GI Joe, hands down… but that was ALL he had, and he’d had it for quite some time. And he was beginning to suspect that his parents had bought him off, because he hadn’t got a single GI Joe thing for his birthday… and what was this shit with Wang-Ka’s family? Did they ALL bring Wang-Ka GI Joe shit when they visited?

Well, yes, sometimes they did. Of course, I didn’t put it that way. I made it pretty clear to Rocky that relatives weren’t allowed in the house without providing some form of GI Joe stuff that I didn’t already have. And I had hundreds of relatives, all waiting in the wings, who would all be visiting very soon.

Y’bastid.

He didn’t believe me, of course. “Yeah, well, who cares? I have the Adventure Team Playset! Betcha none of YOUR relatives ever get YOU the Adventure Team Playset!”

He was right. I had a standing order in for that one, but none of my relatives ever did bring me one.

…but Rocky began to get a little weird at my birthday when I unwrapped a present from Grandma, and it turned out to be the Mummy’s Curse playset, complete with mummy, sarcophagus, and that cool little six-wheeled all-terrain vehicle. I mean, his eyes got all big, and his nostrils kept flaring, off and on, for something like half an hour. And he couldn’t pin the tail on the donkey for beans. His concentration wasn’t for shit.

I loved every minute of it. Icing on the cake, if you will.

But the topper came when I got the GI Joe Helicopter. It was a one seater – had to be – but the thing was huge, and incorporated a little trigger thingy that you pulled continously to make the rotors spin. I mean, you literally had to assemble it every time you took it out to play… it was THAT big.

…and the first time Rocky saw it, he burst into tears and called me every name in the book.

Our parents were wildly confused, and Rocky’s mom dragged him back and made him apologize for calling me names. Nobody understood why Rocky was so upset.

I did, of course. And durned if deep inside, I didn’t gloat like a sonofabitch. I didn’t dare do it in front of the Big People, of course, but I knew what the score was. Whoever Dies With The Most Toys Wins. Rocky might have had the crown jewel of the collection… but I had the rest of the goddamn treasury.

And we hated each other for it.

And that, friends and neighbors, is why socialism doesn’t work and can’t work. Somewhere deep inside all of us is some creeping worm of evil, a thing that either demands that we have more shit than the next guy… or rises to the competition as soon as the next guy starts going on about how good HIS shit is.

And if even the children aren’t immune… how can the grownups resist?

2

Ah, GI Joe politics. An essential part of growing up.

My friends used to mock me because the first Joe toy I got was that goddamned bridge layer. It was a tank. With no gun. And extendible freaking bridge. IT LAYS BRIDGES. IT’S ALL IT FREAKING DOES. PUTS A LID ON HOLES IN THE GROUND!!! JESUS FREAKING CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THAT! IS THAT FUN! I DON’T THINK SO! THEY MIGHT AS WELL HAVE PAINTED IT PINK AND PUT A RAINBOW SPRITE DECAL ON THE TOP!

pant pant pant

Sorry, I’m better now.

My parents got me the cool ass Cobra attack jeap afterwards to make it up to me.

3

Ah, here’s a link:
http://www.x-entertainment.com/articles/0694/

Evidently, there were guns. I had forgotten about them.

Still, it’s like a male-oriented version of the pooping baby dolls:

“Here you go, son. Learn how to carry your nuts home in a little sack while you’re young. You’ll need that skill in the future.”

4

Mm-hm.

And while these days, the toys are different, I have no doubt whatsoever that the politics are the same.

I’ll bet you anything that there are STILL kids out there who hate each other’s guts because ONE of them has the X-Men Jet, but the other one has the Extendo-Claw Talking Wolverine…

5

Ah, but maybe your greed was learned behavior! Your parents were raised and indoctrinated with capitalist pig values, were they not? They probably started warping your mind the minute they got your swaddled three-day-old butt home from the hospital. They dangled material goods in front of your innocent eyes and plied you with promises of brightly-colored plastic riches from Fisher-Price. They trained you to accept unquestioningly their system of punishment and rewards based on material things, reinforcing the association of goods with self-worth in your impressionable mind. You learned to defend your toys, your territory, as if you were defending your own body.

You have proven nothing. NOTHING!!!

:smiley:

6

Yes, but did you ever tie your foot-tall talking GI Joe Commander doll down to a cinderblock with shoelaces, stand Cobra Commander next to him, hold a magnifying glass up, and say in your best Cobra voice, “If you do not tell me what I wish to know, then Cobra will rule the world!”

Proceeding, of course, to melt the GI Joe Commander and eventually set the cloth on fire, all the while making the GI Joe Commander talk, yet saying to him “That is not what I wish to know! Tell me, or die!”

Now that’s a treasured childhood memory.

I wonder why my parents never gave me any more of those.

7

Great story as always, Wang-Ka – I’d forgotten I had half of those.

Of course, it’s possible to get beyond all that, from time to time. Have a tale of growth and redemption on me.

(You’re right about one thing though – 12" action figures were the shit.)

8

cuauhtemoc, I refuse to respond to even the most reasoned, reasonable, and well-thought-out discussion from someone whose name I have to cut and paste because I can’t spell it even on the third try. :smiley:

Even when you make a pretty good point.

And IGNITE my beloved GI Joe Talking Commander? Are you NUTS? Hell, before he’d BUY me the friggin’ thing, my old man had to sit me down and give me a speech, the likes of which I would not hear again until I got my first CAR! You know, about responsibility and taking care of stuff, and liability insurance?

Well, I didn’t actually have to buy insurance for my GI Joe, but if there had been such a thing, he prolly wooda made me do it.

And you know WHY? Because Talking GI Joe Commander cost all of SIX DOLLARS at Western Auto!

SIX DOLLARS!

Admittedly, it was, like, 1968 or '69, but back then, this amounted to about half the gross national product, if you believed what my DAD was saying…

No, no, no, blazing kleenex and M-80s were reserved strictly for the little green army men. GI Joe Talking Commander wasn’t even allowed in the BATHTUB!

I loved my GI Joe Commander. He had realistic hair and a beard (some kind of rust-colored flocking) and he said a whole BUNCHA different things, depending on exactly how far you pulled out his string.

…but he always said the same thing when you pulled out his string ALL the way: “Mission accomplished. Good work, men!”

One day, my friend, Li’l Bobby, and I were at home… and we were bored. We dug out GI Joe Commander and my other Joes and prepared to assault the Mystery Of The Mummy’s Tomb or whatever that particular adventure accessory set was…

…when I happened to glance out the door to my room… and realized that there was a much more dangerous objective at hand. Yet… far more rewarding, as well.

In my sister’s room, across the hall.

Barbie’s Dream House.

GI Joe Action Marine was assigned to reconnoiter the area and report back. He reported that Mom was still out on the porch, having a drink with Bobby’s mom, and my sister was nowhere in sight.

The Joes broke down into a pair of two-man strike teams, consisting of Action Marine and Action Pilot, and Action Sailor and Talking GI Joe Commander. They moved up on the objective, and Action Marine circled around the rear for further reconnaissance.

He reported back that the house was clear. Barbie was upstairs with her friend Malibu Barbie, and Skipper was in the pool out back.

Action Marine and Action Pilot moved quickly to neutralize Skipper, while Action Sailor and Talking Commander stormed the front door, hoping to take the objective before any kind of communications or resistance could be made.

Turns out they hadn’t planned on putting up a fight. Barbie, Skipper, and Malibu were so happy to see these fine examples of America’s Military Men that they were out of their designer costumes in a twinkle. Turns out that Malibu Barbie actually knew Action Pilot from her senior prom – the truth was that Dad was too cheap to go in for Action Ken, so my sister occasionally borrowed Action Pilot for double duty.

Much furious activity ensued, much of which I cannot repeat here. At least not in any detail.

The scene of domestic bliss was interrupted when my sister got home, and wandered into her room to find two boys there, doing unspeakable things with nude Barbies and naked GI Joes. Well, not completely naked. It was such a pain to get their boots off and on that we just left their boots on.

She stood there and stared at us in horror and shock. What the hell? No doubt we permanently stained her li’l eight-year-old mind, that day.

…particularly when Li’l Bobby, totally unthinkingly, pulled Talking Commander’s cord all the way out… and let go.

“Mission accomplished. Good work, men!”

9

Oh, and this is by way of making up for dragging another toy franchise into the thread.

10

How do you figure Little People and Barbie dolls work into the mix?

(I had the Little People House, A-Frame House, Airport, and the Castle. And they were the skinny Little People too, before the days when children choked on toys.)

11

Um… well… (Good point. Howthehell do Barbie dolls work into “creeping socialism?”

Um… well, it could be said that Barbie represents rampant consumerism… and that… um… GI Joe represents the struggle of the proletariat?

Although if you ask me, those Barbies were way too glad to see the Joes.

And what were “Little People?”

12

When my husband was a boy, he lived in an area that had lots of construction. And, being all boy, he liked playing at the construction sites. He told me that a favorite game was “Prisoner of War Camp” with his GI Joes. Apparently, torture consisted of being crushed by boulders (big dirt clods) or blown up by firecrackers.

I believe he got most of it out of his system years ago - to my knowledge, he hasn’t blown anything up in years.

13

Little People.

Oh, come on! I can’t be the only one who remember these!!

14

I remember melting parts of Little People, sticking them together, waiting for them to cool, and creating an unholy Little Person creature of the night. Does that count?

15

Oh.

FISHER-PRICE Little People.

They had skinny ones? Hm. Well, actually, they did, didn’t they? I don’t remember any of them that WOULDN’T have fit down a two-year-old’s gullet pretty well… but I never had them. After my time.

I think.

Either that, or the folks were too chinchy to spring for them. But that seems unlikely, considering some of the loot I managed, judging from birthday pictures.

Unless the pictures were faked by my parents, in order to convince an older me that I had, in fact, had a deliriously happy toddlerhood, instead of being kept in the basement and fed on scraps.

But I digress.

My sister had those, around the same time I was starting to get into GI Joe in a big way. She loved 'em. Hell, I thought they were pretty cool, too, although I was getting old enough that I wouldn’t have been caught dead PLAYING with them.

Note that I never said I DIDN’T play with them. Only when no one could observe a strapping seven-year-old playing with stuff obviously intended for babies. It was my secret shame.

Never occurred to me to stuff one down my throat, though.

My sister made out like a bandit one Christmas, as I recall… got a whole mob of Little People, the Little People House, and the Little People Barn, complete with a mob of little animals and stuff. And she already had the Little People Gas Station. At least, I think it was a gas station. Admittedly, most gas stations don’t have ramps that let you drive off and on the roof, but, well, I don’t know what else it would have been. I know it had a little hydraulic lift for hoisting Little People Cars into the air in the garage, which doubled as a method of Little People Torture, if you didn’t take them out of the cars, first.

Hm. Maybe THAT’S why I never got my GI Joe Adventure Team Headquarters. Once the CUTE kid popped up, everyone knocked themselves out buying HER a buncha crap… which, incidentally, supports my ideas about socialism. I mean, we’re just too damn competitive for it to work. Even on the family level. I mean, ever hear of Sibling Rivalry?

On the other hand, the fact that the Little People apparently owned their own house, a whole bunch of furniture, a farm (complete with cows and pigs and stuff) AND ran a gas station WOULD seem to confirm the “learned capitalism” theory expressed above by cuahtum… um… cuauheto… cuaohot… oh, whatever-the-hell-his-name-is…

:smiley:

16

Oh.

FISHER-PRICE Little People.

They had skinny ones? Hm. Well, actually, they did, didn’t they? I don’t remember any of them that WOULDN’T have fit down a two-year-old’s gullet pretty well… but I never had them. After my time.

I think.

Either that, or the folks were too chinchy to spring for them. But that seems unlikely, considering some of the loot I managed, judging from birthday pictures.

Unless the pictures were faked by my parents, in order to convince an older me that I had, in fact, had a deliriously happy toddlerhood, instead of being kept in the basement and fed on scraps.

But I digress.

My sister had those, around the same time I was starting to get into GI Joe in a big way. She loved 'em. Hell, I thought they were pretty cool, too, although I was getting old enough that I wouldn’t have been caught dead PLAYING with them.

Note that I never said I DIDN’T play with them. Only when no one could observe a strapping seven-year-old playing with stuff obviously intended for babies. It was my secret shame.

Never occurred to me to stuff one down my throat, though.

My sister made out like a bandit one Christmas, as I recall… got a whole mob of Little People, the Little People House, and the Little People Barn, complete with a mob of little animals and stuff. And she already had the Little People Gas Station. At least, I think it was a gas station. Admittedly, most gas stations don’t have ramps that let you drive off and on the roof, but, well, I don’t know what else it would have been. I know it had a little hydraulic lift for hoisting Little People Cars into the air in the garage, which doubled as a method of Little People Torture, if you didn’t take them out of the cars, first.

Hm. Maybe THAT’S why I never got my GI Joe Adventure Team Headquarters. Once the CUTE kid popped up, everyone knocked themselves out buying HER a buncha crap… which, incidentally, supports my ideas about socialism. I mean, we’re just too damn competitive for it to work. Even on the family level. I mean, ever hear of Sibling Rivalry?

On the other hand, in my baby sister’s bedroom, the Little People apparently owned their own house, a whole bunch of furniture, a farm (complete with cows and pigs and stuff) AND ran a gas station.

I mean, my sister’s Little People were some goddamn PROSPEROUS Little People. No living in cardboard boxes for THEM. These were Little People Of Means, you know?

And the target age group of this toy series, and the obvious paradigm presented WOULD seem to confirm the “learned capitalism” theory expressed above by cuahtum… um… cuauheto… cuaohot… oh, whatever-the-hell-his-name-is…

:smiley:

17

Whoops. Moderators, delete the first of the two posts, would you? I seem to have gotten a bit too frothy, there…

18

All right, let’s actually bring socialism back into this. (Although the Little People “plug dog” rules unchallenged, I must add.)

Essentially, socialism is based on gearing production towards maximum result for minimum effort. Shorter shifts, so more people can be employed, improving productive technology and efficiency so that more is made in less time, via less pollutant and wasteful methods to boot. Distribution is based on amount of time worked, not amount of money earned - the value of a consumable is measured by the average amount of time needed to produce it. Money is right out of the picture.

So… let’s take the example of the GI Joe Adventure Team HQ. God only knows how long it actually took to produce and assemble the playsets, but seeing as how Hasbro’s point was to make as much as possible off of sales, I think we can safely assume the output of several hundred thousand yearly. For argument’s sake, let’s say Hasbro could whip out 1,000 ATHQ per day. Over a 12-hour shift, that’s 83 an hour, or roughly 1 complete ATHQ per 1m20sec. So the estimated value of a GI Joe Action Team HQ in a socialist economy is 1m20sec of work.

Now, let’s say the average worker under socialism works a 4-hour day. He only has to work that 1m20sec to earn enough labor ‘credit’ to get his boy that oh-so-nifty-gotta-have-it GI Joe Action Team HQ. That leaves him a tidy 3h58m40sec of credit left over when the day is done to buy food, clothes, books, furniture, whatever the hell else he or his family needs. If Rocky Belicec’s dad and Wang-Ka’s dad both work 4 hours in a day, a GI Joe playset is hardly any skin off either one’s nose. So Papa Belicec and Daddy Ka both stop off at the toy store on the way home, pick up an ATHQ playset each for both their boys, and the whole scenario described above becomes less than moot.

The upshot of this is that the behavior Wang-Ka describes is shaped by the conditions of material existence. Change the circumstances under which people work and consume, and different behaviors arise. Jealousy and selfishness aren’t hard-wired into the human brain and are not an obstacle to further political and social change. They’re not a cause of human society, they’re a result.

19

That thing was a dog? I thought it was a panda.

And you’re basically correct – change the circumstances under which people work and consume, and different behaviors arise. Hell, for that matter, convert their MONEY into some other form and they get weird.

I am not convinced that jealousy and selfishness aren’t hardwired, though. Ask any parent of any newborn baby, and I think they might tell you otherwise.

20

GI Joe and Barbies… ahh yes.
My son had a “thing” for Barbies when he was little. His father was not pleased with this.
So on Christmas morning when my son was a mind-ripening three years old, he went at the box that he was sure contained a new barbie with all of it’s hair- that’s what he asked Santa for.
His father proudly watched as my son ripped the santa claus wrapping paper from the box and a large GI Joe appeared.
My son’s three -year- old joy evaporated and his smile disappeared.
He ran upstairs and didn’t come back down for a bit, but when he did, he was once again smiling.
He had his bedraggled Barbie dressed in GI Joe’s coat, jacket and pith helmet and was holding the big Joe boots on with his tiny fist so they wouldn’t fall off her feet.
I’ll never forget the look on his dad’s face.

Need I tell you that naked Joe and Barbie were last seen that morning, driving away on the Little People’s family car?

winks at Wang-Ka