The foolish story of H2O guns

June 9, 2015 - accent chair

The H2O gun followed a sequential arc of a sports label and a comic book: it existed for decades on decades, mostly unchanged, and afterwards a 1990s — a decade that paved over everything, and has given itself been paved over like a cut-rate, busted-up Quikrete it was — got a hands on it. These things deteriorated into garish, caustic commentaries of themselves. They glued ball cards to pieces of Omar Vizquel’s sliced-up glove, and charged 4 bucks a container for a payoff of anticipating it. They killed Superman, drew Hillary Clinton into his wake scene, and expertly used a tract device of “nevermind y’all” to move him back.

I am 10 years aged and walking adult a mountain in 1993 and wearing a H2O gun’s analogue. See this thing Race Bannon is wearing in a shutting credits of Jonny Quest?

That’s what it looks like. I’m wearing this hulk cosmetic tank of H2O like a backpack; we substantially import 75 pounds, and this fool has to import during slightest 20. A tube connects a tank to a giant, three-foot-long cannon. It shoots when we siphon it, and it requires such strength to work that we have to set it opposite a belligerent like a ditch trebuchet and pull down on it with both hands. I’m towering adult this hill, and I’ve mislaid a screw-on tip during a tip of a tank, so H2O sloshes all over my behind with each step. I’m drenching myself distant some-more than we could ever suffuse anyone else.

That right there is a many invalid impulse of my life. Water-gunning is already a essentially invalid institution: there isn’t a justification left by a paintball gun, or a calculable ammunition of a Nerf gun, or a scorekeeping of a laser tab gun. There’s no such thing as being a good shot, or avoiding being shot. The H2O gun is a elementary fun of using by a sprinkler, repurposed and weaponized into a unstable hurter of feelings. It’s fucking dumb.


That, some-more or less, is a H2O pistol that remained roughly wholly altered for generations. It was a invalid instrument in a use of a invalid thing, and as such, it was wholly appropriate. On average, it substantially shot a feet and a half.

The thing that bridged a opening between this and my giant, weird-ass, Rob Liefeld-doodled dorkus-malorkus-ass too-big H2O cannon that we hunched and skulked underneath like a little-ass dipshit was a strange Super Soaker 50.


It was a equivocal miracle: a H2O gun that indeed worked. After 50 or so years of nonsense, someone finally worried to invent an tangible decent gun. That someone is Lonnie Johnson, who helped invent a secrecy bomber and after assimilated NASA to assistance send a examine to Jupiter, though all that junk comes after a list of essence in his Wikipedia entry. The lede is all about a Super Soaker.

Johnson teamed adult with a businessman, Alvin Davis, who upheld divided Friday. They sole millions, and a Super Soaker became one of a many entire toys of all time. Being a H2O gun, it was a invalid thing, though it was a best invalid thing. God magnify those guys for that.


The success of a 50 desirous an arsenal of increasingly uncanny and even-less-necessary H2O guns. If a gun is so complicated that it necessitates a guitar strap, it competence be value deliberation who or what this thing is even for, though introspection hasn’t and won’t ever hindrance a impetus of progress, and we finished adult with a thing that resembled a cow’s digestive tract as many as anything else.

Since a arc of a H2O gun was yoked to that of a sports card, they were fundamentally adult-ified. Grown adults set adult label shows, fretted over packet condition, monitored issues of Beckett like batch tickers, and used difference like “investment” when articulate about a hologram of Don Mattingly station around in a batting round with a bat with donuts on it sitting on his shoulder (action-packed!!!). The man-baby slouched in his folding chair, sneered during any child who dared to demeanour around, slanted his ass, farted, and busted a ball card.

The same was not utterly loyal of a H2O gun, though dang if Laramie didn’t develop into a invulnerability contractor. There were spring-powered guns, motorized pumps, and eventually a Constant Pressure System, that was critical adequate to grasp a possess acronym. Super Soakers with a CPS lift a label:



They can't pull a pouch any serve than this unless they hurl out Super Soaker: An Actual Gun.

Have we ever listened comparison folks lay around an AMVETS lodge? They adore articulate about a specifics of a instruments they used in their troops days: a make and indication of their chopper, a size of their rifle, a treads on their halftrack, all that. The Super Soaker is for those of us who were too chickenshit to join a troops though still wish to have those conversations. It is adult people like us who worry to populate the Super Soaker Wikipedia entry with things like:

The strange chronicle of a CPS 2000 was expelled in open of 1996. Being a initial H2O gun to ever competition a Constant Pressure System (CPS), it began what many impute to as a “third age of H2O wars” (the initial commencement on a recover of a Super Soaker 50 in 1991 and a second after a Super Soaker 300 was expelled in 1993). The many absolute blaster of a time and still now unmatched solely by homemade H2O guns, it sports a 25X H2O outlay (1X equals 1.2 oz/second).

Don’t review all that, usually know that adults took a H2O gun — something that was already totally foolish and pre-ruined — and somehow re-ruined it.

I have usually one pleasing memory of a H2O gun to share.

There was a child in my area who got flattering many each fondle he wanted. Among them were a span of travel hockey goals, that he’d drag divided with him in pouty offend in a center of a diversion though vouchsafing us finish. Another was an overwhelming bicycle. When he perceived it on Christmas morning, he screamed and cried during his mom since it wasn’t a tone he wanted, and afterwards he went outward and kicked his dog. He was a small shit.

Another of those toys was this absurd H2O gun headset. Like, we put it on like a span of headphones, and flipped down this small cosmetic reticle over your eye like a world’s dumbest monocle, and there was this small H2O gun mounted to a side. It was voice-activated. Whenever we shouted into a mic, a gun fired. It cost a lot of money, so he suspicion it was overwhelming and that he did not demeanour like an huge tool.

This headset-gun didn’t caring what we said, usually that we done noise. Naturally, he motionless to go with, “FIRE!”, usually he influenced a arrange of Cobra Commander-like accent. The cannon didn’t have a lot of range, either, so he usually frantically ran around, removing dripping by everyone, forever yelling, “FI-YAAAH! FI-YAAAH! FI-YAAAAAAH!”

Ten mins into it, he’s exhausted. He’s respirating complicated and usually kind of stomping around fatigued circles. He’s been soaked several times over by everybody else, and he’s not attack anybody, since his gun sucks. He stopped saying, “FI-YAAAAH!” mins ago. He’s usually charity this constant arrange of groan: “aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.” It’s adequate for a gun to keep firing, though a gun itself is using low on batteries, and there’s zero left though this mild small drip of water. “aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh.” It roughly sounds like wailing.

If that isn’t a funniest story we have ever heard, it’s my error for not revelation it right.

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