The Pog Post

I still have my Pogs; really, it's just part of my childhood museum. It's a reminder of how junior high promotes following trends rather than being your own person. I was in 6th grade when Pogs became hip. When I first saw them, I said to my friends, "I'll never get into that." Two weeks later, I was buying 60 Pogs for a dollar at the flea market. But here's the thing: those Pogs weren't good enough. You had to have the official Pogs with the official Pog markings on the back. They came in packs of four for about $3 or $4. Being the smart, young business man, I loaded up on those 60 for a dollar unofficial Pogs, invested in a heavy slammer and played rich kids for their official Pogs. I had the makings of a C.E.O. But instead, I decided to be a writer and satirize my experience. It's that whole two roads diverged in a yellow wood thing.