I can't explain. I don't think anyone could. I was compelled to own a flavor ice machine. A slush maker, in vulgar terms. I had to make flavored ice, to be drunk, to be enjoyed, to be envied and to be resented.

And I did.

Right here on this patio, Ron. I made the slush water here, with your wife. And your boy.

And I colored it orange.

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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