Mattel’s Magic 8 Ball, that fascinating decision maker for the “I don’t know” crowd (you know who you are). What’s inside, you ask? Signs point to me telling you.
Inside that little black sphere is an icosahedron… here’s a nice rotating one. And no, Tippi Icosahedron was not in “The Birds.” (Sorry, Morgan.)
There are, you math whizzes know, 20 possible answers inside the ball…
● It is certain
● It is decidedly so
● Without a doubt
● Yes – definitely
● You may rely on it
● As I see it, yes
● Most likely
● Outlook good
● Signs point to yes
● Yes
● Reply hazy, try again
● Ask again later
● Better not tell you now
● Cannot predict now
● Concentrate and ask again
● Don’t count on it
● My reply is no
● My sources say no
● Outlook not so good
● Very doubtful
I would like to add my own 20 answers to a Magic 8-Ball, inspired by my sage grandmother, who had all the answers:
Why you asking me?
Do I bother you with such nonsense?
You think I know?
Yeah, sure, if you think so.
You really want my answer?
Ich vais nisht!
You need to ask?
Go know!
I have no idea.
You already know the answer.
Sit down until you know.
You really want an answer from a plastic ball?
I never thought about it.
Ask him!
Ask her!
Why ask?!
If you have to ask…
Seriously, you’re a putz.
I’m not in the mood for your questions.
Why?
The 8-Ball, as we know it now, was created in 1950. But the original gizmo was invented by one Albert C. Carter, who based the original design on one his clairvoyant mother used. Then a guy named Max Levinson and his brother-in-law Abe Bookman partnered with Alabe Crafts in 1946, and they sold it as the Syco-Seer. Not a good name, although they had it inside a glitzy crystal ball. Brunswick Billiards turned it into the 8 ball in 1950. Mattel somehow got a hold of it.
Illustration: Fashionably Geek
for Beck, who would have been 104 this week.
Before Kardashians and Real Housewives, there were sitcoms… like “The Flying Nun.” Crap is timeless.
That’s a “Flying Nun” lunchbox, with Sally Field as the aeronautical sister, and her annoying nunnery mates, Madeleine Sherwood (left) as the Reverend Mother and Marge Redmond as Sister Jacqueline. I was more interested in Alejandro Rey as Carlos Ramirez, but I didn’t know why.
Alejandro died of lung cancer in 1987 at age 57. Here’s the back of the lunchbox.
Official orange douche and homophobic billionaire wannabe president Donald Trump and his hair pose for some bullshit for the Indianapolis 500, because if you’re watching “Celebrity Apprentice,” surely you’ll be amused by cars repeatedly driving around in a loop for hours.
In L.A. we call that the 101.
Michael Loccisano/Getty/Indianapolis Motor Speedway
Gummy news anchress Katie Couric finally got her walkeen papers from CBS… they’re now talkeen about an exit deal for the hammy teleprompter queen, whose gums apparently prevent her from enunciation of syllables endeen in “ing.” She is seriously workeen my last nerve.
Of course, this means she goes on to have her own “specials,” like Joan Lunden and Jane Pauley (‘memba them?) — which tells me we haven’t heard the last of her not being able to speak properly.
