Sitting by my door is a real magnifying glass. Outside is the sun. What is it that makes me want to combine the two to make fire? There’s a part of me, hidden not so far beneath the surface, that makes me want to light things on fire with the magnifying glass.

Some may think it’s a sign of mental illness. As if I’m sitting around the house looking at matches and paper, fighting off an intense urge to burn down the neighborhood.

Not so. What I want to do is run up to the store and buy some army men. The green plastic kind that used to be the cornerstone of any self-respecting boy’s toy collection. I want to line up an intense battle on the sidewalk and allow one side to harness the energy of the sun to lay waste to their enemy.

With a quick focus of their giant lens, the technologically advanced army turns their foe into a giant, bubbling mass of green goo.

With great knowledge comes great power, especially if you are a green plastic man forever frozen into a pose that depicts your status in the army. Mine sweeper? That’s what you are. General? You get binoculars. Infantry? You have five choices. One: Standing and shooting. Two: Running. Three: Kneeling. Four: Crawling. Five: Sniping.

There’s no hope for advancement. No hope for promotion. Your life is defined by your body posture. Your job is predefined. There’s no complaining in these ranks. Your only hope is to have a benevolent god-like child to be the master of your fate, and to be chosen as the forces of good. Otherwise, you end up a bubbling mass of green goo.

Whatever happened to army men? I thought they’d make resurgence after their supporting role in Toy Story. But not so. Kids today, I suppose, don’t have toys that require imagination. You actually have to play with army men. A modern child needs a toy that plays with itself. With a predetermined back-story.

Army men only had a basic back-story. They are military men. Nothing else. Whatever happens is up to you.

What will literature look like in the future if kids don't know how to play? Sigh.

Maybe I put too much stock into the importance of green army men. But, they were the ultimate toys. They work inside, outside, in the bath. They were ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. No remorse, only fierce fighters.

Crap. I have to go. The third infantry is on the move and Charlie Company needs to set up the Ultra-Violet Ray of Death. Our very lives depend upon their success.