At the flea market on Sunday, someone was selling a huge box of Pogs. Remember Pogs? They were big in the 90s, probably around the same time as those dumb Tamagochis. And in this case, “dumb” of course means TOTALLY FUCKING RAD.
There were kiosks at the mall that sold Pogs. My friend Keri and I would dump out bins of them on the floor and sit there Indian-style, sifting through the cardboard disks emblazoned with pictures of the Simpsons and Looney Toons characters until we found ones that interested us.
One day, I hit the motherlode—the OJ Simpson trial series. Are you fucking kidding me, I thought as I slapped my mom’s money on the counter before anyone else could snatch them away from me. I even invested in the slammer (slammers were thicker, harder Pogs; there was a point to Pogs but I never played, just collected) which was something like brass and had OJ’s face embossed on it, flanked by the word INNOCENT. It was the king of all slammers and quickly became my prized possession.
I was kind of obnoxious about OJ Simpson, which even got me booed out of a classroom during the trial. I’m sorry, but I can’t turn my back on someone who had a cameo in Back to the Beach.
People knew about my slammer. Word travels fast about an asshole who believes in OJ’s innocence. This could be because I was very boastful about it, flashing it to classmates whenever possible. I remember receiving a particularly incensed reaction from a group of people in my homeroom (the same group who wouldn’t teach me how to play Magic!). And then, the slammer went missing.
I never did get it back, but I promise you I know who took it. (Same person who convinced me to stick a foil gum wrapper into an electrical outlet!)
Favorite 90s craze? Go!