Monday, June 09, 2008

Horrifying Gifts: A Pictorial

NOTE: All of these items come from the bowels of the Taylor Gifts catalogue and can be found on display in only the worst homes and... let's face it... trailers throughout our great, shameful land.

Picture Frames That Are Also Creepy Dolls

These speak to a kind of loneliness that people don't talk about. Because it's easy to pretend that everyone is grieving on the same level, at the same speed, and is having a good ol' cry every now and then and that's about it and this too shall pass and every day it hurts a little less. But sometimes, loneliness and sorrow don't go away... instead they fester and rot and mutate into a creepy sickness that's like a long, dark staircase that descends into a bed covered in stuffed animals with pictures of loved ones for faces and they're real, DAMMIT!!! THEY TALK TO ME AT NIGHT, WHEN DARKNESS IS ALL THERE IS!!! You can try to tell me that these are "cute," but I'm sorry... mental illness isn't cute, no matter how brightly colored the stripes or frilly the lace.

Pianist Hand

It's a music box, see, and the fingers move along in time to the music like that's an okay thing to have around your house. Like it's not going to come alive and chase you around with a kitchen knife and/or strangle you in your sleep. But, take heart... as you're bleeding to death in the basement (because you thought you'd be safe there) or having the life choked out of you as everything turns grey, you'll get to listen to tinny, low-quality renditions of Beethoven's "Fifth Symphony" and Joplin's "The Entertainer" and Chopin's "Minute Waltz!" Hopefully, you'll die before the Pianist Hand starts... um... "doing stuff" to your body!!!

Peekaboo Pole Dancing Kit

Okay, not to generalize or anything, but I think it stands to reason that the people who do a lot of shopping from the Taylor Gifts catalogue probably don't look just a whole lot like Miss Spring Break 2000 up there. In fact, I think it's much more likely that they closely resemble something that would eat Miss Spring Break 2000 with extra butter and a jaunty lobster bib. That being the case, I wonder if the Peekaboo Pole Dancing Kit comes with a weight limit? Because nothing ruins a romantic night faster than a dumpster-sized hole in the double-wide after 300 pounds of ready n' willing reaches maximum velocity around the same time that the pole explodes like the Empire State Building in Independence Day. Safety first, people.
Sleeping, Breathing Cats

These are great, actually, because now I've got definitive proof that there is no God. They're little robots that look like sleeping kittens, in case you're too stricken with terror to understand concepts right now, and the people that buy these have emotional problems that make cannibalistic serial killers look like well-adjusted go-getters who just happen to collect knives. If you want a cat, get a cat. It's really that simple. If you feel you can't take care of a cat full-time, then go visit a friend with a cat or volunteer at a shelter or watch fucking Animal Planet while clutching a dish towel for all I care. Just don't buy all the sadness in the world made corporeal in a velvety box of wires and pistons. That's like turning your back on life.
The Farting Bank

Heh... heh heh heh... okay... so you stick the money in it's butthole and it farts... heh... yeah... uncles of the world are uniting in laughter and, sorry, but I think I'm kind of there with them. I mean, yes, obviously this is as lowbrow as you can possibly get without actually making hand puppets with your own poop, but still... farts are, unequivocally, funny. And who hasn't wanted to cram some money up there just to see what happens? Anyone...? I mean, OBVIOUSLY the C-dog's never even thought about that, but I'm sure some of you have... ha ha... I'm not weird, what? Who said that? Why is everyone pointing and laughing???

Fine. FINE.
Pianist Hand, ATTACK!!!


Blogger Todd said...

I want a list of the phone numbers for the women who bought that stripper pole. Strictly for research purposes only of course.

10:50 AM  
Blogger Clinton said...

You don't want that, man. You just don't.

2:10 PM  
Blogger blythe said...

clinton, we're all friends here. not in real life, but you know what i mean. are you sure you're employed? if so, please do tell me how you are able to amass so much material for fairly quality posts while maintaining the facade of working. i need to know your secret. stat.

6:55 PM  
Blogger Clinton said...

Blythe... My "secret" has more to do with the job I currently have. What I mean is, my job has two very distinct, blog-helpful things going for it... 1) We're not really supervised all that heavily, which allows me to work on stuff unmolested by upper-management... and 2) My workload, on a day-to-day basis, can usually be handled in about five hours, thus leaving me with three hours of unstructured writing time.

So that's helpful. Also, I can just write fast while thinking quickly on the fly. One of my many, unimpressive, unmarketable talents.

10:30 AM  

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