Not that telling time has ever exactly been complicated, but the precision-crafted quartz Wall Fish Clock hearkens back to a golden age when it was even simpler than our oft-unnecessary complicated rigmarole.
When you gaze upon this elegant timepiece doubling as a 1.2-gallon aquarium for a happy little betta fish to comfortably call home, take a moment to appreciate a more austere period when strangers didn’t need to whip out a little computer-phone or glance at a fancy-schmancy microwave cooking machine to know the hour. Why, any gentleman with an onion on his belt (don’t ask, it was the style at the time) would promise you a piece of yummy candy if you followed him to his windowless white van while he checked his clock. That finely crafted black, silver or burgundy acrylic construction was so lovely and the funny smell of that rag so intoxicating, you would almost forget you came to check the time and maybe get five bees for a quarter.
Back in those Halcyon days when women were strong, men were good-looking and children were in canneries where they could be seen and not heard, the short hand told you the hour itself. The big hand marked the passing minutes. The skinny hand ticked off the seconds.
Ah, but this clock includes a feature even those soothing classics didn’t: when your fish floats belly-up at the top, you know it’s time to get a new fish. Better hurry! The only pet store around for tickety-two miles is in Shelbyville, which we used to call Morganville, and you don’t want to miss the day’s last ferry.