This concludes the Voltron portion of YOUR LIFE or: The first rule of Voltron is you do not talk about Voltron

Back in 1986 when I was twelve years old, department stores like Sears used to hang Voltrons from the ceiling in the toy section. Not just any Voltrons, but the big expensive Matchbox die cast deluxe Voltrons. Those Voltrons were so heavy and metal they could have opened for Iron Maiden. Oftentimes I found myself standing directly beneath the mighty metal lion Voltron watching him hang there all heavy and mighty, just as God's balls hang heavy and mighty in the sky above mankind.

I was sure that one day I would have that heavy ass $40 Voltron. It wasn't any sort of premonition or any backdoor deal I struck with God-I had seen Matchbox Voltron in my sister's closet so I knew my mom was hiding it from me. All I had to do was wait until Christmas, but then in a cruel twist of fate my mom confronted me one day and said that she knew that I knew it was there but it didn't matter. In her mind I was a bad boy or something and she was going to save Voltron to give to my little 2 year old cousin instead. I thought it was some sort of cover story she was using to throw me off the trail. Then in November another bombshell dropped like a load of giant robot lion poop all over my life. Matchbox Lion Voltron got recalled due to lead paint issues. Even if my Mom was lying about giving Voltron to my cousin, she still couldn't give it to me anyways. Or could she? WHat would happen if she did? Would the Voltron police bust in on our Christmas and send us all to Voltron jail? I hoped against hope that she wouldn't let a little thing like toxic lead paint get in the way of the meaning of Christmas (which was giving me robot lions). But sure enough Christmas came and I didn't get jack shit for Voltrons. Even though I was just twelve years old I vowed this would be the last time I let a woman control my supply of toy robots.

YOU HAVE TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT VOLTRON DOES NOT LIKE YOU

From that point on Voltron would be nothing but a source of shame and self-loathing for me. For the rest of Christmas vacation I pondered my worthless Voltronless existence. How could I face the kids at school whom I had already told I was getting a Voltron? How could Voltron come to my house but not hang out with me in my room? How could Voltron decide not to defend my universe? Some questions I still ponder to this day, like where did that Voltron go anyways? Did my mother keep it or did she really give it to my cousin? I would never know the answer because from that Christmas onward I never ever mentioned Voltron around my mother again. There's just some subjects sons don't talk to their mothers about. Subjects like sex. With my mom and me that subject is Voltron.

Our Voltrons were our models for God. If our Voltrons bailed, what does that tell us about God?

Last year my wife brought a friend from work over and I showed him my robot collection in the laundry room. He said he noticed a conspicuous lack of Voltron. All these tons and tons of robots I have and all he could focus on was my not having that one. It just about drove me nuts. I asked him if a Voltron hanging from the ceiling was a necessary part of a well rounded robots collection. He said that in some people's minds it is. And all I could do was stare at him really really hard and I noticed that his right eye was a little wobbly, as if he had mild neurological damage. Neurological damage that could only have come from being lead poisoned about twenty years ago. MY COUSIN'S EYE IS THE SAME!