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Recession Slowed by Gains in Absurd CollectablesApril 29, 2002 |
Collectors vie for the chance to purchase expired Grape Nuts he economic hit taken by the US in the wake of Sept 11th has largely been wiped away by huge growth in the absurd collectables market, according to Harvey Rosenblum, president of the National Association for Business Economics.
"While the market for more traditional items, like home computers or appliances, is still weak, new markets for products like misprinted dog food bags and celebrity nerf ball fuzz have been driving the economy for months. A nation shaken by terrorism has been economically buoyed by its passion for truly useless shit," commented Rosenblum on Monday.
Useless collectables have long been a factor in the national economy, with a strong demand for Thomas Kincade paintings, beanie babies and dot-com stocks helping to pull America through the rece...
he economic hit taken by the US in the wake of Sept 11th has largely been wiped away by huge growth in the absurd collectables market, according to Harvey Rosenblum, president of the National Association for Business Economics.
"While the market for more traditional items, like home computers or appliances, is still weak, new markets for products like misprinted dog food bags and celebrity nerf ball fuzz have been driving the economy for months. A nation shaken by terrorism has been economically buoyed by its passion for truly useless shit," commented Rosenblum on Monday.
Useless collectables have long been a factor in the national economy, with a strong demand for Thomas Kincade paintings, beanie babies and dot-com stocks helping to pull America through the recession in the early 90's. But the recent surge has been unlike anything this country has seen before.
"Americans have realized that any new computer they buy is just going to seem as slow at their old one in two months, and a new Chevy's going to break down just as often as their old one, but original mint-condition promotional materials from the short-lived Wintergreen Nerds candy line are going to be something they can pass on to their grandchildren," said Frank Nettle, editor of Trendy Obsession magazine.
In spite of numerous public statements from the Franklin Mint reminding the public that if it's not hand-numbered and cast in pewter, it's not a collectable, the current collecting trend has moved beyond the traditional "bullshit painted on plates" market, branching out beyond porcelain figurines and glass elephants into the unknown realm beyond. The latest frontier of collecting is as varied as the American people themselves, whose collections range from the intensely personal to the just plain bizarre.
Asked why he began collecting caps from different brands of ranch dressing over fifteen years ago, Arlo Turtle of Angel Falls, TX replied: "it seemed as good as the next thing." Angie DuBank of Peoria, IL collects pictures of places where Annette Benning has had her hair cut, while Ted Middlebaum owns over 35 ticket stubs from the original screening of Porky's in Las Vegas. Beatrice Fraumbalt, who collects address labels from old TV guides, explains: "It's not about what something means to you, or where it came from. Or even what it costs. Or if your grandchildren look forward to inheriting your collection when you die. It's about keeping the Space Invaders from finding out where you live and laying eggs in your preserves."
Modern collectors range from a budget-conscious gatherer of little green army figures like Tank Reynolds ("I've got a soldier in every position except the one where the guy's tip-toeing, presumably into a Hamburg cat show, which is thought to be a crawling figure who was miscast in the molding process during the factory fire in 1971") to a high-roller like Chelton McNesh, who owns an extensive collection of Visa cards with low account numbers. Though the collection is his pride and joy, McNesh still peppers every conversation with bitter references to "the Honus Wagner of all Visa collectables, card number 4500-0000-0000-0001" thought to be owned by a Saudi collector. Though just how many Saudis the man owns can only be guessed at this time.
"A person's collection reflects a bit of who they are and where their passions lie," said Lillith Barnes, owner of the world's largest collection of things that have been pulled out of Ted Kennedy's ass. "Obviously I'm a political junkie at heart," explained Barnes, gesturing toward a display case containing an electric toothbrush, one improbably large shoehorn, a Holly Hobby Doll, a bicycle inner tube and a set of three matching Happy Apples.
Oftentimes terrible miscues by major manufacturers are offset by the profits gleaned from marketing aborted runs of products as limited-edition collectables. "Sure, I know they make a lot of jokes about New Coke and how it flopped. But what nobody ever tells you is that we're still making the stuff and selling it on eBay," confided Bernard Manhouse, head of Research and Development for Coca-Cola. That same collector's mentality has allowed Chevrolet to turn a profit on the ill-fated Looney Tunes Corvette, and helped cut the losses related to the similarly misguided Muppets-endorsed Wok-a-Wok-a-Wok from Kitchenade.
The collecting trend which has gripped the nation has spread even to the commune offices, where repeated attempts have been made to steal Rok Finger's shoes, the same pair he has been wearing nonstop since 1953. the commune news is proud to announce a limited-edition run of collectable commune back issues, presented on a handsome display monitor and hand-typed by Red Bagel while wearing fine pewter jewelry. Send cash or money orders for $10, $20 or $30 (preferably $30) to SUCKER BUS c/o the commune. Ramrod Hurley has been buying them up like there's no tomorrow, so act fast! Get on the sucker bus!™
 | Documents reveal NASA sealing shuttle gas tank with oily rag
 Polish Roof Falls in Following "Drinks Are on the House" Debacle Delphi files bankruptcy; sells entire CD collection to pawn shop
Attention-hungry China still whining about typhoon victims
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Senator Wins Lottery, Quits "Shitty Job" epublican Senator Judd Gregg finally ran into a big steaming pile of luck Wednesday when he matched 5 of 6 Powerball numbers and won a lottery jackpot of $853,492. Gregg immediately called Vice-President Dick Cheney to let his boss know he would not be coming into work. “It’s about friggin’ time I got some good luck,” Gregg told reporters in front of his home in his home state of New Hampshire. Gregg waved his winning ticket in the air frantically and laughed. “Eat it, taxpayers! I’m gonna be my own boss from now on!” Gregg, who chairs the Senate Budget Committee and spent more than $2 million in his last re-election campaign, did admit to some sour grapes in not winning the $340 million jackpot won by an Oregon player in the same lottery. the commune's Fall Gadget Guide t’s almost the time of year to start pretending you’re Christmas shopping while you look for swanky new shit for yourself, and the commune is there for you with our first-ever annual Fall Gadget Guide. Join commune Tech Correspondent Mitch Kroeger as he guides you through the bewildering wilderness of the new and the shiny. Oasis, Killers Combine Forces to Ruin Sgt. Pepper’s for Everyone Global Warming Poses Threat to National Parks, Says WWF’s “Machoman” Savage |
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 October 15, 2001
All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth, and a Robotic DinosaurEvery year when Christmas rolls around, kids everywhere are treated to the months of anticipation and hours of fun that only a really awesome Christmas present can bring. Unless they get a robot dog that's retarded.
Last year for Christmas I got a retarded robot dog. It doesn't do anything cool. I was hoping that my robot dog would have heat vision or at least be able to curse in French, but all it does is eat puppy food and pee on the couch. I told my mom and dad that we should check the instructions, because they probably put the batteries in backwards. That happened one year when I got the Hot Wheels Detailing Shop for Christmas and it started smoking and caught the drapes on fire. That wasn't such a big deal though since Billy Doogan down the street got the same thing and his Hot Wheels always looked lame after that, he could never get the paint to go on smooth and all of his cars looked like they were fresh out of a burn ward. But last year I was excited about the robot dog so I thought we should check the directions. My mom and dad said that Santa hadn't brought any directions but I think they were just afraid of being wrong again, like the year I wanted the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers video and it turned out dad got confused and got me Nightly Muff'n Pussy Rangers instead. Dad thought we should just keep it but mom made him take it back and get the right one.
So last year I was stuck with a retarded robot dog that probably had the batteries...
º Last Column: Where the Fuck's Jesus? º more columns
Every year when Christmas rolls around, kids everywhere are treated to the months of anticipation and hours of fun that only a really awesome Christmas present can bring. Unless they get a robot dog that's retarded.
Last year for Christmas I got a retarded robot dog. It doesn't do anything cool. I was hoping that my robot dog would have heat vision or at least be able to curse in French, but all it does is eat puppy food and pee on the couch. I told my mom and dad that we should check the instructions, because they probably put the batteries in backwards. That happened one year when I got the Hot Wheels Detailing Shop for Christmas and it started smoking and caught the drapes on fire. That wasn't such a big deal though since Billy Doogan down the street got the same thing and his Hot Wheels always looked lame after that, he could never get the paint to go on smooth and all of his cars looked like they were fresh out of a burn ward. But last year I was excited about the robot dog so I thought we should check the directions. My mom and dad said that Santa hadn't brought any directions but I think they were just afraid of being wrong again, like the year I wanted the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers video and it turned out dad got confused and got me Nightly Muff'n Pussy Rangers instead. Dad thought we should just keep it but mom made him take it back and get the right one.
So last year I was stuck with a retarded robot dog that probably had the batteries in backwards. Or maybe it's just deflective from the factory, but something's definitely wrong. My friend Carl Washbaum got a deflective Poo-Chi for his birthday one time and all it would do was rub it's butt on the floor while it made the noise from electronic battleship, and mine is at least ten times more screwed up than his. I even think that mine's getting bigger, which is definitely not supposed to happen. If it keeps this up, pretty soon I won't be able to close the lid on my toybox.
At least Carl's deflective Poo-Chi was fun for a while. We used to hide it under his older sister's bed and she would run around, looking for her cell phone every time it went off. Mine just makes whining noises and chews on an old tennis shoe. And if you thought a Tamagotchi had to be fed a lot, you obviously have never owned a retarded robot dog.
My parents thought I might have fun with my robot dog if I taught it to do some tricks. Billy Doogan has a robot parrot that he taught to say "Fuck You Asshole" just like in Terminator so I thought my robot dog might be able to do some cool tricks too. But unless you consider crapping on the kitchen floor to be a real special trick, my robot dog just plain sucks at tricks. No "Simon Says", no adapter to connect to my Nintendo 64, nothing. I did see him eat a potato beetle over by the pantry one time but I'm having a hard time figuring out how to impress my friends with that one.
It's hard not getting your butt kicked at school when you're missing a front tooth and you whistle when you say "Miss Spankenauber" in class. Everybody thinks you have a crush on the teacher and that means serious underwear violations. Richie Turner really does have a crush on Miss Spankenauber, but his dad brought him a GameCube from Japan last month so he's pretty much untouchable.
If you think a lousy retarded robot dog is going to keep me from coming home with snapped underwear elastic and that it's going to restore my status among my classmates, you're sorely mistaken. At this point, there's only one thing that's going to set things right: a robot dinosaur.
A robot dinosaur would be bound to do some awesome tricks, and probably could eat other kids' robot pets alive. Maybe even other kids. And I bet it could do my homework, too, or at least scare Miss Spankenauber into giving me less workbook pages to do every night. And I'm sure it's got some kind of flashcard mode or some kind of educational thing going on somewhere in there, easily making it a better choice than that lame-o "LearnCo Systems Tutoring Funputer" that I know my parents have been looking at. And I'd be willing to bet you never have to mash up a heartworm pill into a robot dinosaur's food every night. º Last Column: Where the Fuck's Jesus?º more columns
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|  May 26, 2003
Bricks on the Fourth of JulyI definitely need to hire out as a Fourth of July consultant. If you think you don't need a Fourth of July consultant, you've never experienced a Bricks Fourth of July, end of story.
It's about a month away, I know, but when you want to make it a memorable good time, you've got to plan well in advance. It's just not smart to put a houseful of fireworks and a truckload of Miller Genuine Draft together without more than a little planning. Now usually I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of guy, even if the ass of the pants rips out and you get kicked out of the kid's birthday party, but hey, it's not like I knew the kid anyway—nothing ventured, nothing gained; but when it comes to Fourth of July, Omar Bricks turns into a rocket scientist of event planning.
It's more than just explosions and drunken fight after drunken fight—shit, if I didn't have that on a daily basis I'd hang up my hat and go home already. The way I see it, Fourth of July is the world's celebration of pure, uncut freedom, and for me there's nothing better worth celebrating. Hanging out with buddies, sipping beers, and trading swimming pool-building tips is like a fart in freedom's face. Omar Bricks don't fart in anyone's face unless they personally asked for it or take out those little opera glasses in public, which is the same as the former in my book.
It takes more than a month just to save up enough money to rent the arena. Why go through the trouble and...
º Last Column: Polio at 50 º more columns
I definitely need to hire out as a Fourth of July consultant. If you think you don't need a Fourth of July consultant, you've never experienced a Bricks Fourth of July, end of story.
It's about a month away, I know, but when you want to make it a memorable good time, you've got to plan well in advance. It's just not smart to put a houseful of fireworks and a truckload of Miller Genuine Draft together without more than a little planning. Now usually I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of guy, even if the ass of the pants rips out and you get kicked out of the kid's birthday party, but hey, it's not like I knew the kid anyway—nothing ventured, nothing gained; but when it comes to Fourth of July, Omar Bricks turns into a rocket scientist of event planning.
It's more than just explosions and drunken fight after drunken fight—shit, if I didn't have that on a daily basis I'd hang up my hat and go home already. The way I see it, Fourth of July is the world's celebration of pure, uncut freedom, and for me there's nothing better worth celebrating. Hanging out with buddies, sipping beers, and trading swimming pool-building tips is like a fart in freedom's face. Omar Bricks don't fart in anyone's face unless they personally asked for it or take out those little opera glasses in public, which is the same as the former in my book.
It takes more than a month just to save up enough money to rent the arena. Why go through the trouble and expense of renting an arena? Well, you might as well ask what's the point in having a demolition derby—you can't hold it in your backyard, don't argue with that because I've tried. And the demolition derby is the big part of the Bricks Fourth of July gathering, and in the tight-money times I haven't been able to rent an arena I find an unguarded farmer field is a fantastic substitute. If you check with your friends who fake crop circles on the weekends they can probably tell you which places are frequently unsupervised and have the best tire traction.
Then you have to select the special car, I like to nickname it the "doom buggy". The best way, I've discovered, is to hold a little private lottery the night before—if you have one hundred ping pong balls, a giant hamster ball, and a tuxedo, have a little fun with it, it's like a party in itself. Then whatever number wins that's your car, since they'll all have numbers painted on them at the derby. I would recommend keeping it something only you know. Sure, you can let everybody in on the secret, but when most people find out the car's trunk is full of fireworks the volunteers to drive it dry up real fast.
No demolition derby is complete without a lot of beer, whether you're a spectator or a driver. Still, with luck you'll get flipped over by the car with the bulldozer prod welded on the front early and can get a seat right up front in time for the first explosion to hit the doom buggy. Man, that's Fourth of July. Our founding fathers would have been proud enough to piss themselves.
That's just my favorite part, of course. Some Bricks partygoers love shaving the heads of the derby losers. Others love the swimming pool full of Thunderbird, throwing flammable things on the bonfire, or the wrestle Lil Duncan contest. I'm not complaining, I love every part of it, even the swarming of S.W.A.T. team members to close the whole thing down gets me kind of misty-eyed. Like America, there's a little something for everyone. Bricks out. º Last Column: Polio at 50º more columns
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Quote of the Day“God help them that help themselves to my lemony cookies, for they is to be sorrowing at the whup I be borrowing from they ass.”
-Benji "Cookie Monster" FranklinFortune 500 CookieLove is a relative term, but even that nugget won't save your ass if you pork your cousin. Stay away from salty snacks this week, even if it means tunneling underground. Try wearing your watch on the other arm—maybe that's your problem. This week's lucky names: Alexia. Ephyn. Scatman. Toolio.
Try again later.Hottest Christmas Toy Fads| 1. | Dolly Pees N' Downloads | | 2. | PEZac Anti-Depressant Candies | | 3. | Bloodbung IV for Gamecube | | 4. | Golidie2k2 Robotic Goldfish | | 5. | Virtual Bike Training Wheels Disc | | 6. | West Nile Elmo | | 7. | FunFree Learn-o-station | | 8. | Britney Spears' Diaphragm Madness | | 9. | Bob the Builder with Catcall Voice Chip | | 10. | Collect or Die Trading Card "Game" | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Orson Welch 4/9/2007 It’s been a month since I last reviewed Hollywood’s latest films—but more importantly, it’s been a March. You all know what March means? Hollywood dumps its very worst on you. Even Hollywood has one night stands with directors and actors it shouldn’t have, blitzed by whiskey shots and casual drug use, then has to admit, "What the fuck was I thinking?" when it relegates it’s comedies starring Ice Cube to a chilly March weekend release. It’s my absolute favorite time of the year, Christmas for the cynics. Let’s waste no time.
300
A big surprise to everyone, particularly those who made it, that this man-flesh fest would pack so many seats. Raking in a record-setting $70 million, the film proved to Hollywood that a March opening can...
It’s been a month since I last reviewed Hollywood’s latest films—but more importantly, it’s been a March. You all know what March means? Hollywood dumps its very worst on you. Even Hollywood has one night stands with directors and actors it shouldn’t have, blitzed by whiskey shots and casual drug use, then has to admit, "What the fuck was I thinking?" when it relegates it’s comedies starring Ice Cube to a chilly March weekend release. It’s my absolute favorite time of the year, Christmas for the cynics. Let’s waste no time.
300
A big surprise to everyone, particularly those who made it, that this man-flesh fest would pack so many seats. Raking in a record-setting $70 million, the film proved to Hollywood that a March opening can actually make summer-sized profits, and that America’s male population is far more bi-curious than they would ever admit. Controversy surrounds the film, given it’s the story of a lone group of white men (well, Greeks) standing against the onslaught of countless Iranians (well, Persians). Also, it’s pretty bad, and the fact Iran would take it seriously at all should point to how little they think of Americans (well, they’re probably right).
Blades of Glory
Now here’s a movie for those audience members with their homophobia still firmly erected. Will Ferrell gives a command performance as Jim Carrey the ice skater, and inspires Olympic levels of heaving with his mugging to the camera and Will Ferrell-style antics. Napoleon Dynamite also co-stars in his latest obligatory film before being relegated to the winning question for the Trivial Pursuit pink pie piece in the forthcoming 2004 edition, "What was the name of that guy who did Napoleon Dynamite and disappeared?" This is the kind of film they don’t even let critics watch, and with any significant push in Geneva Conventions, they won’t be letting audiences watch them either.
TMNT
My guess is this is an insidious Disney plot: They release this horrid cock-grinder of a merchandising trailer around the same time they put out Meet the Robinsons and make the mediocrity of the latter look spellbinding in comparison. It is completely heartless, gutless, mindless, and anything-less you could think of. If they had cast Pauly Shore, Carrot Top, Tom Arnold, and Andy Dick as the teen-aged mutant ninja turtles of the title they couldn’t have made them any shallower, aggravating, unlikable, and unbelievable. I know now there is no God, because if there was one he would have finished me off with a massive heart attack rather than let me sit through all 87 minutes of this detritus.
Grindhouse
Double your misery for the price of one over-priced movie ticket. Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, the men who have brought us our be-T-shirted movie friends with encyclopedic knowledge of all garbage films ever, have combined forces for the most purposefully-directed schlock ever to hit the silver screen. It’s as if someone decided to adapt bad taste as a film, and then paid for it. It stars… aw, you know as well as I do there are no "stars" in it. If you want to see a star going to the grindhouse, you’re better off searching the audience.
That’s my round-up. Never before have so many little doggies been so deservedly hog-tied and branded. I just wish I weren’t speaking figuratively, and "doggies" meant "directors." Until the next last big cattle drive.   |