Just what is the Titan-Project you ask?

OK, so you didn't ask...

Well, pretend you did just for the sake of argument.

Please?

Thank you!


It all started back in the halcyon days of my father's youth, before JFK was murdered, before man walked on the Moon, and long, long before the fashion calamity known as the disco era. Things were different then. As time marches on all things must undergo a transformation of their natural properties, just as base coal becomes diamonds, as the raw fruit of the field is processed until it fills the tiny, geometric trays in a TV dinner, as Gilligan's Island went from plain old black & white to technicolor, all things must shed their rough, unfinished exteriors and become a reflection of a new age of ..... *ahem*

Times were different.

All across America, ducking & covering was saving schoolchildren from Commie bombs, smoking was still good for you, and it was right and proper for a man to bury used motor oil in his backyard.

Leaping bright-eyed and pink-cheeked into this era of innocence was the fevered imaginations of my father, his two brothers and sister. They were All-American youngsters; one need only look at their crewcuts, pigtails, jeans, button-up shirts and skirts to see these children had been raised on a steady diet of Midwest Puritanism, California sunshine and a healthy dose of radiation from America's Newest Member of the Family... The Television.

It was an exciting time for my father and his siblings; the new medium of television was setting trends all across the country. Big business was experimenting with new materials allowing such wonderous creations as the Hula Hoop, the Whoopie Cushion and Flubber. To add to the magic of the time, Disneyland had just been imagineered, forever changing the way concrete, plastic and metal were used. One of the new Tomorrowland attractions was Monsanto's House of the Future (99% man-made materials! Take THAT Mother Nature!). So when a new box of cereal was brought home with a toy prize inside it was taken as yet another sign of big business' largess to the populace.

The box proclaimed "Prize Inside! Be the First in Your Neighborhood to Collect All Six Colors!" Breakfast - crunchy machine processed shapes drenched in vitamin enriched milk - was duly served. Eventually, the "prize" was unearthed.

It was small - only about an inch or two high - and made from plastic. It was colored green and blue. It had four tentacles on which rested a bulbous, misshapen top. In fact, it resembled nothing in the world so much as an evilly mutated - grown on Five Mile Island - sprig of broccoli.

Undaunted by the odd prize found in their wholesome breakfast food (yet somehow not inspired to seek out the remaining five colors) my uncles and father took it outside to their sandbox. There it joined a host of other mass created plastic doodads. In one corner a pink rabbit duked it out with personality-free green plastic army men. On the far side a small red duck lay next to a group of small gnome-like creatures. It was in this motley group that the homeless cereal box "prize" found a home. The new toy was dubbed "The Titan" and became a wild card in the perpetual battle of good and evil that was waged across the sandbox. Its attributes, as invented by my father and his siblings, included the ability to poison its victim from ten feet away by prickling them with toxic stickers. It then ran away laughing in a shrill, maniacal way. It was neither good nor bad, it merely lived to make trouble.

Today it is still making trouble for at least one too inquistive member of the family (me!). I cannot help but ask, what was the strange object that hitch-hiked to my grandparents' home inside of a brightly-colored cereal box? Was it a forgotten character from some fantastic, yet poorly-acted, television show? And most importantly, why would anyone want to own *six* of these oddities?

With the advent of the internet, and the blossoming of our webmaster's tech ability, an idea was born: To create a place where pointless, yet thought-provoking questions can be asked. In other words, to try to re-create and perhaps even unmask the enigma of "The Titan".

Perhaps someday we will get around to actually creating such a place.

Thank you for your time.