This past Sunday at church, my daughter, B-Dog, was given a rubber ducky unlike any I had ever seen before: “Ninja Duck.”
What is “Ninja Duck?” From
what I can ascertain, it’s (obviously) a small rubber toy. I mean that much is clear. With nun-chuks! Which is cool… but Ninja Duck, like the old song on Dr. Demento (“Dead Puppies”), just kind of lies around, inert. It doesn’t even squeak!
What kind of duck doesn’t even quack, or squeak?
Clearly, as was the case with the iPhone 4’s “antennagate” last year, Ninja Duck represents a triumph of form of over function. Who cares if it drops calls when it touches human flesh–because, I mean look at it!–it’s dead sexy!
Likewise, Ninja Duck looks cool, but there’s not much you can do with it. And I gotta tell you, I’ve had quite the existential crisis this week regarding this dumb duck! What’s it for? What’s its purpose? What can I do with it?
Well, for one thing, I guess it’s a pretty good conversation starter.
“What’s a ‘Ninja Duck?’ What’s it do?”
“But what’s it do?”
“Tell you what: let me throw it at your face, and you tell me, ok?”
“Hey! You don’t have to get hostile. It was just a question.”
“I still don’t know what it does.”
And so it goes… At least in my head. I think this probably kills the evangelistic potential of Ninja Duck, right? WWJD? (Hint: He sure as heck wouldn’t hurl a Ninja Duck at someone’s head. “I love you.” Wham! “What the heck was that, Jesus?” “Ninja Duck! Booya!”).
How about you? Like the Klondike Bar, what would you do-oo-oo with a “Ninja Duck?”
(Here’s something I did:
A note on the text: this post was composed on my iPhone 4 (not 4s), and I tapped the “F” key at least thrice while trying to type the word “duck.”