Monday, July 20, 2015

Found! At the flea market



JAAAAAAAAARTS!






A set of original, steel-tipped, KILLER JARTS.  I saw this dusty box on a shelf at the flea market and I swear, my pulse started to race.  Did I buy them?  YOU BET I DID.

Oh, do these bring back memories!  I LOVED playing Jarts as a kid.  Of course, they were supposedly not a kids' toy at all, and were pulled from the market after injuries and deaths started to mount.  No, I'm not kidding; look up "lawn darts" on wikipedia and you'll see what I'm talking about.

I'm guessing that this particular set was manufactured in that brief period of time between when fatalities were starting to rise and the Feds finally yanked them off the market, thus the giant warning on the front of the box:


Let's play Jarts!  mwa ha ha ha ha ...

5 comments:

Tails from the Foster Kittens said...

we had these when I was a kid too. They were at the camp that we would spend a week at and we loved them.

Domestic Kate said...

My first thought when I saw the image was, "Oh no! Not lawn darts!" I think I have a vague memory of playing with these as a kid (or maybe watching my parents play). Back when toys could kill. Good times. Enjoy!

spiffi said...

we had those! for some reason my parents really didn't like us playing with them...


There is a gentleman on youtube who does videos of shooting things with random objects and he built a high velocity crossbow type thing that shoots lawn darts. It was frightening how much damage they can do :)

~~Silk said...

Apparently Regent doesn't have the same budget as the NRA, or we'd still have them.

rockygrace said...

I don't remember anybody getting injured during any of the games of Jarts I played as a kid, although I can see how the potential could be there if someone was careless or had extremely bad aim. Anytime you're throwing around weighted, steel-tipped missiles, well ...

I think the closest I came to death as a kid was when I was maybe four? And fell off the back of one of those horse-on-springs things. The back of my head smacked onto the concrete floor of the rec room from a height of about four feet. I blacked out for a while, and when I came to, I was really, really nauseous. Yeah, concussion city. Did the folks rush me to the E.R.? Nope, Mom gave me a cold cloth for the back of my head, parked me on the couch, and called it good. It WAS the seventies, after all. It's a miracle any of us made it out alive.