Ed and I both love toys. I mean, he did several reviews of his favorite toys, and planned on doing a whole lot more this year.
I’ve been buying a lot of action figures. Call it conspicuous consumption in an attempt not to feel quite so bad in the midst of soul-crushing grief. But then I realized that there’s something I could do with them. Here’s the first installment of my toy therapy. I call it, “When Death Comes for Your Man and You’re All Out of Fucks to Give.”