Show me one person who avoids the Skee-Ball. One. Even back in the day at the local miniature golf course, which doubled as an arcade (yeah, I grew up when they were still sort of a thing; what of it?), the Skee-Ball machine was a crowd-pleaser, one of the few games that everybody could agree upon when the Street Fighter kid wanted to play something with the claw machine kid.

And these days, when I spend more time popping into bars with friends than pew-pewing laser tag guns at friends’ birthdays, I still sidle up to a Skee-Ball machine when I see one hiding in the back room next to Big Buck Hunter and an obligatory, pockmarked pool table that looks like a Titan’s ashtray.

It’s nostalgic. Practically universal. And even though it’s a space hog, you can buy one from Skee-Ball for your hom

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