Don't get me wrong, when I was but a small heathen, beach balls were quality entertainment. There are pictures to prove it; cute little photographs of baby 0 and 1 drooling and banging his head against the sphere of what was surely toxic plastic fumes. Absolutely adorable.
At some point, though, all of us must grow old and become jaded with the delights and simple pleasantries of childhood. Part of this process, undoubtedly includes learning to hate beach balls.
Once a child's muscles gain strength greater than that of chocolate pudding, beach balls start to become something of a nuisance. You can't really throw them anywhere, since they're too light to travel through the air with any real consistency. Furthermore, they're usually made out of cheap, thin plastic. So, if you kick the ball into anything sharp, they blow up more quickly than Jessica Simpson after finishing a Pizza Hut ad (she's still not really fat, just tragically unaware of her pants' proximity to the Urkel line).
Beach balls have also gained a reputation as a major annoyance at concerts and sporting events. This isn't so much because of the ball itself, but the crowd of stumbling, overeager drunks it leaves behind it. Perhaps the best thing you can hope for in these scenarios is for someone to take a particularly ambitious swipe at the ball, only to miss and go all Chris Brown on their best bro next to them instead.
In any case, beach balls need an image makeover. Maybe they could pull the whole bigger is better campaign that America was so enthralled with during the late 90s, when Viagra became available and Bob Dole was still doing backflips. Who knows? Still, I do hope we've gotten past the point in our country's history when the cool thing to do is show off your new Hummer to your friend and say, "Hey man, check out how huge my car is, and by car, I mean penis!"
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