Doug Clark: Toy recall? Bunch of coddlers

I‘ve been reading about the recall of millions and millions of Chinese-made toys and becoming extremely alarmed that America is creating a generation of pansies.

(Editor’s note: Mr. Clark does not endorse any toy that contains lead paint or tiny powerful magnets that, if swallowed, could stick a child helplessly to a refrigerator.)

The tainted toys include such favorites as “Cars” movie items and even that beloved plastic tart, Barbie.

Feminists have been saying Barbie was toxic for years. Looks like they were right all along.

Well, we didn’t get our toys from foreign countries when I was a lad.

No sir. Our toys were proudly manufactured in the good ol’ U S of A, which ensured that the jagged metal edges and flesh-pinching mechanisms were produced with the highest possible standards.

Even stuffed animals back then could put an eye out.

But did parents and politicians demand a recall of our deadly playthings?

Absolutely not. Adults were too preoccupied worrying that Castro and the Commies were going to nuke us at any moment.

Parents just told us to go outside and play and try not to bleed. Oh, and if the atomic bombs start falling remember to “wipe your feet and don’t track radioactive fallout into the house.”

Living under the strain of constant nuclear doom made my generation tough. That’s why we’re not afraid of growing old and sucking the Social Security system dry.

So let me put this toy recall terror in perspective by remembering a few of the truly dangerous playthings from my generation.

The wood burner: This was basically a long electrical pen with a tip that heated to the temperature of fresh lava.

The wood burner was intended to be used to creatively brand designs or a name into wood.

In reality, we used it to creatively brand our young flesh with third-degree burns.

The Johnny Seven O.M.A.: Perhaps the most audacious of all 1960s faux assault rifles.

The O.M.A. (One Man Army) taught kids the American virtue – “peace through superior firepower” – by being able to launch an assortment of bullets, grenades and rockets.

But this was only one of thousands of spring-loaded weapons that fired hard plastic projectiles at guaranteed welt-producing force. A friend, for example, said his toy rifle packed such a wallop he was able to explode the bulbs off the family Christmas tree – all the way from his bedroom.

Cool!

The chemistry set: The kits we had came with test tubes, alcohol burners and chemicals that today would be seized by Homeland Security.

I’ll never forget the thrill I felt when I set up my first chemistry lab in my grandmother’s basement.

I’ll also never forget the look of panic on grandma’s face when my first experiment went awry and we ran outside for our lives to escape the billowing poison gas.

Lawn darts: Kids tossing heavy pointed darts into the air and watching them plummet to Earth.

What possibly could go wrong?

The Marx playset: Owning a playset made by this venerable toymaker was a rite of passage for children my age. The elaborate sets came with plastic figures, buildings and all the assorted pieces to create a circus or a ranch or a cavalry fort.

My parents gave me “The Untouchables” playset for Christmas 1961. It was based on the hit TV show that starred Robert Stack. He played Elliot Ness, the G-man nemesis of Chicago crime lord Al Capone.

The set came with little tommy-gun toting gangsters, tin lithographed buildings, metal friction getaway cars and even a dead body. I can’t tell you how many hours I logged on my living room floor, lovingly re-creating gangland slayings like the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.

It was such great training for a future columnist.

Plastic models: Making model cars or airplanes was a big deal for my generation.

Many of us sat in our rooms, night after night, patiently arranging, assembling and painting the little pieces.

Parents loved how quiet and docile model-making made us.

Of course we were quiet.

We were stoned from the glue.