iPod, schmi-Pod. For the past year or so, I had been coveting this $300 slab of lego brand goodness [click image to see full size]. The embodiment of galactic evil combined with merchandising, machined to Scandanavian precision, and guaranteed to maintain that precise gray for generations.
This particular model is several feet long, and I had visions of that behemoth suspended from the ceiling of my office with all weaponry trained on the unsuspecting individual who traipses into my office requiring technical assistance.
"You want help? First you must swear fealty to the emperor. And give me that iPod."
I thought nothing could top this gratuitous expression of pure evil, and cement my lofty position at the top of the toy heirarchy in the building, or perhaps even out to the parsec boundaries.
Last week I was reminded that, even with Legos, one can become embroiled in an arms race. You think you have the most devastating Weapons of Mass Destruction around, and, kerfaffle! You might as well have a pea-shooter. And a can of soggy peas. Not one of those bulgie cans full of botulism for starting a biological weapons program or a botox clinic.
If you look in the upper right corner of the Death Star, the little gray smudge is one of the Star Destroyers from above. Imagine a Death Star under Construction (slated for release in Sept. 2005) hanging in the corner of my office above my CD collection. That Beatles White Album will get returned to me right snappy, don't you know.
If the folks behind freeipod.com were to start up another spinoff called freedeathstar.com, I'd be first in line to sell all my family's personal information to the marketers, canvassing the hallways looking for unsophisticated consumers to trap in my Lego fuelled ponzi frenzy.
With kit like this, one doesn't need to grovel for free iPods or Mac minis. One holds planetary systems hostage. I'm not about to spend $300 on this puppy any time soon, although I'm not above putting it on my wishlist at amazon.