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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!™
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 March 12, 2007
Swing-to-the-Left Voters Can Eat MeAs one of two conservatives in the commune office, the other being a complete asshole, I felt quite alone watching the election coverage back in November. It was like the 1994 election, only horribly inverted—Democrats, Democrats everywhere, and not a successful attack ad in sight. Piss on the current administration, I say. Not because I'm not a loyal Republican, but because I firmly believe if the president had kicked a little pay-off action to the voters again (we call it tax relief) he could have skated all his cronies back into office with ease. "Iraq-a-what?" millions of greedy undecideds would have said, dollar signs clicking comically in their eyes. I love it in cartoons when you can see dollar signs rolling in someone's eyes—it wish everybody was that honest in real life.
But no, goddammit, he put his faith in the conservative religious base once again, and trusted his purges of minority voters in key states would do what he needed. Well, that left a lot of your guys shit out of luck, Mr. President. We're all financially fucked now. And don't expect the healthy sense of fear and respect we've been getting from enemy nations, now that the cursed undecideds have lame-duckified both the president and congress. Old Glory (yes, you capitalize it, goddamn you) has become a welcome mat we can roll out to terrorists, dictators, fascists, welfare moms, pervert artists, and other enemies of the great republic.
I still remember watching it on the TV,...
º Last Column: The New War on Poverty º more columns
As one of two conservatives in the commune office, the other being a complete asshole, I felt quite alone watching the election coverage back in November. It was like the 1994 election, only horribly inverted—Democrats, Democrats everywhere, and not a successful attack ad in sight. Piss on the current administration, I say. Not because I'm not a loyal Republican, but because I firmly believe if the president had kicked a little pay-off action to the voters again (we call it tax relief) he could have skated all his cronies back into office with ease. "Iraq-a-what?" millions of greedy undecideds would have said, dollar signs clicking comically in their eyes. I love it in cartoons when you can see dollar signs rolling in someone's eyes—it wish everybody was that honest in real life. But no, goddammit, he put his faith in the conservative religious base once again, and trusted his purges of minority voters in key states would do what he needed. Well, that left a lot of your guys shit out of luck, Mr. President. We're all financially fucked now. And don't expect the healthy sense of fear and respect we've been getting from enemy nations, now that the cursed undecideds have lame-duckified both the president and congress. Old Glory (yes, you capitalize it, goddamn you) has become a welcome mat we can roll out to terrorists, dictators, fascists, welfare moms, pervert artists, and other enemies of the great republic. I still remember watching it on the TV, knowing it was coming 'cause all the polls pointed to disaster. As usual, I was here in the commune office, conveniently located where I sleep and eat chicken wings. I remember having most of the year off, for whatever reason—I'm only the Office Manager, work stoppages aren't any of my business. All I know is we hadn't been publishing since April or something and a lot of the reporters had taken off for long vacations, which meant I could crank up the Creedence. It was better than hearing the news folks actually covering the elections proselytizing about "wake up calls" and "referendums on the war." It's not a war, idiots, it's an occupation—at least get that part right. A war is when both sides agree they're fighting, and we clearly haven't gotten on board that wagon yet. Regardless of semantics, forgetting who voted for what and why, we all have to thank the Undecideds. Yeah, they get the capitalization treatment now, too, 'cause they're a group—the same group that keeps fucking things up for everybody. At last the Democrats and the Republicans can find common ground together, a mutual enemy. These la-dee-dahs and their lack of conviction. How could anyone over the age of 10 and under the age of 90 not know what the hell they stand for, and which political group makes the weak promises to give them just that? How could complete morons, who predictably somehow make it out to the polls on election days, not pick one big fat emotional issue and react with gusto on that? Going right into the congressional elections of 2006, just like 2004, 2002, 2000, and every election in-between, before, and to come, these numb-nutted weasels had every reason to believe they knew there was a big military presence in Iraq, there was a major SNAFU with the future of social security, and they either had a good job or no job whatsoever. Did these guys wake up bankrupt, old, concerned with immigration and terrified about the environment on Tuesday morning? You assholes had plenty of time to register with a party or at least warn either party of your voting intentions. But no, you had to leave it to the last minute to make a commitment toward the party you want to let you down for the next 2-6 years. If we had known, maybe we could have kissed a little more Christian ass before that fatal Tuesday. Promised to make fireproof flags or give an abortion doctor a death penalty or something. Thanks for nothing, losers. º Last Column: The New War on Povertyº more columns
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|  March 21, 2005
Bumped Again!I had planned on letting you all know how my screenplay efforts are going, but I've decided to put that aside, because something is really chapping my ass lately.
Okay, real quick—the screenplay is going fabs. The class with Nancy Melville is going fantastic and I'm practically done. My people are even in talks with Conan O'Brien to star as the Sheriff, even though his people aren't talking back. Anyway, I've got bigger deals this week.
For the very last time, I got bumped. And not from any prestigious talk show or event, which I might be able to understand a little. I got bumped from the commune! Just weeks ago now. Can you believe it? The goddamned nerve. An organization like the commune has balls the size of American Gladiator Atlaspheres to bounce me from the schedule. I thought we had all this shit out. I thought the days of being bumped were behind me, now that I hang out in smaller circles. Turns out even in a small pond a big fish can get shoved around.
We had hashed all this out, or so I thought. I told the commune I wasn't going to bother writing anymore columns unless they met my two conditions: One, they paid me, and two, I had a regular schedule. Actually, I can let you all know, the regular schedule thing was just because I couldn't think of another demand. No big fish makes only one demand, even if it is about more money. So I just made up the schedule thing on the spot. Who knew, they bought it! Or I thought...
º Last Column: The Writing One, Baby º more columns
I had planned on letting you all know how my screenplay efforts are going, but I've decided to put that aside, because something is really chapping my ass lately.
Okay, real quick—the screenplay is going fabs. The class with Nancy Melville is going fantastic and I'm practically done. My people are even in talks with Conan O'Brien to star as the Sheriff, even though his people aren't talking back. Anyway, I've got bigger deals this week.
For the very last time, I got bumped. And not from any prestigious talk show or event, which I might be able to understand a little. I got bumped from the commune! Just weeks ago now. Can you believe it? The goddamned nerve. An organization like the commune has balls the size of American Gladiator Atlaspheres to bounce me from the schedule. I thought we had all this shit out. I thought the days of being bumped were behind me, now that I hang out in smaller circles. Turns out even in a small pond a big fish can get shoved around.
We had hashed all this out, or so I thought. I told the commune I wasn't going to bother writing anymore columns unless they met my two conditions: One, they paid me, and two, I had a regular schedule. Actually, I can let you all know, the regular schedule thing was just because I couldn't think of another demand. No big fish makes only one demand, even if it is about more money. So I just made up the schedule thing on the spot. Who knew, they bought it! Or I thought they bought it, until I got bumped again. This time for some damn Valentine's Day column or something by a friend of a friend of some asshole at the commune. I was major torqued. I mean, I wrote the column and everything. They have pushed back my column on other occasions, when I didn't meet the deadline or I used the column to mop up a spilled drink or something, but this time it was already done. What fucking audacity, like the cartoon says.
I've had my share of bumping in the past, of course. The first time I went on the Carson show I got bumped, just because Robert Goulet had to sing another fucking song. Like nobody's ever heard "The Way We Were" sung by a boozed-up has-been. They can hear it every night at my dad's apartment. But I was just a kid, I didn't know any better. I chalked it up to running with the big dogs, But again and again it happened. I got bumped because The Who went long breaking all their shit at Farm Aid 1988, I got bumped from the M-TV Awards because Howard Stern thought that Fartman character was funnier than sniffing paint. It's fucking ridiculous, people. I got bumped from the Golden Globes because the guy who canceled decided, oh, I want to squeeze into the Ewok suit and give out the award after all. It's bullshit.
The worst of all was the many times I got bumped by Conan himself. I don't have to tell you, since it's no secret to my fans or the judge who issued the emergency protective order, I'm Conan's biggest fan. Still, to this day, even after all the times I've been bumped on his show. And sometimes I was bumped for really dumb reasons, dudes, I don't have to tell you. A totally stupid hack comedian who sold Conan a few jokes at the budget rate or something, or him and Andy were cutting up—cutting into my time, I don't need to remind. Conan, you know I'm your biggest fan, but you bounced me from the show because you guys couldn't keep a straight face during that "In the Year 2000…" sketch? For, like, the hundredth time. Whatever.
Well, this is a warning to everyone, but especially the commune: No more bouncing Clarissa Coleman. I'm not taking it from anybody. You hear? Nobody. Except Conan, if he wants me to sit in for another show. I've got my old Corn Flakes-eating bowl ready and everything, hon. º Last Column: The Writing One, Babyº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Early to bed and early to rise make a man healthy, wealthy, and in total compliance with puritan mores. All others will be stoned to death, just as soon as they wake up.”
-Dan FranklinFortune 500 CookieYou are the jovial type who would gladly eat shit and ask for more, which will serve you well in the coming year, what with the shovel fork you got for Christmas. But for the sake of Buddha, remember to pack a roll of Certs. Lucky numbers 33, 57, 89, 105.
Try again later.Best Shakespeare Film Adaptions| 1. | Romeo and Julian | | 2. | Hamlet Strikes Back | | 3. | A Midsummer Night's Rave | | 4. | Tougher than Leather | | 5. | Richard III: Richard Goes to Hell | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 2/18/2002 What it is, America? Welcome back to the long and lonely road of Entertainment Policing. You've probably heard about most of what's gone down since the last installment of this column, including the restraining order placed against yours truly by Saul Worthington of the Bronx, New York. Sometimes the path to the truth can be littered with hardship and legal fees, that's all I have to say about that. But the important thing is that we're back, and ready with another two-weeks' worth of vital editorial nuggets pertaining to the entertainment choices you, the valued reader, must make on a regular basis. But before we get to that, how about we set the mood with a tall, cool glass of Ask Roland? No? Alright, but don't come crying to me when you wake up in the middle of the night hungry for...
What it is, America? Welcome back to the long and lonely road of Entertainment Policing. You've probably heard about most of what's gone down since the last installment of this column, including the restraining order placed against yours truly by Saul Worthington of the Bronx, New York. Sometimes the path to the truth can be littered with hardship and legal fees, that's all I have to say about that. But the important thing is that we're back, and ready with another two-weeks' worth of vital editorial nuggets pertaining to the entertainment choices you, the valued reader, must make on a regular basis. But before we get to that, how about we set the mood with a tall, cool glass of Ask Roland? No? Alright, but don't come crying to me when you wake up in the middle of the night hungry for Ask Roland! You made your bed, now on to the reviews!
In Theaters Now:
Crossroads
As part of the deal that Hollywood struck with a devil on a moonlit night back in 1927, every ten years or so they're required to put out a movie called Crossroads.
And over the years they've delivered, starting with the 1929 French truffle of the same name, continuing with the 1931 Ruskie animated flop, then the 1942 Basil Rathbone picture that succeeded solely on the merits of having an actor with a very cool name on the marquee, then there were the famously forgettable "Crossroads" films of 1955 and 1957, Bruce Conner's revival of the genre in 1976 (notice that there was no "Crossroads" film during the 60's, and look at what happened then), then after that it was ten years on the nose until Ralph Macchio's 1986 film about a blues guitarist who definitely doesn't know karate, and finally the 1996 version about a man tying his shoe that was released to only one theater in Missouri, merely to keep up the bargain.
Well, the Hollywood big-wigs are trying to make sure that doesn't happen again, and are jumping the gun early in releasing this decade's version of a lousy movie called Crossroads. This time it stars Britney Spears, everyone's favorite virgin, who I'm beginning to suspect may have made some kind of deal with the devil herself. How else can you explain the legions of 13 year-old Britney clones that clog our shopping malls and amusement parks like the backwash of brine shrimp out of a whale's ass? Sorry honey, but I think it's time to side-step your creaky old tush out of the limelight to make room for some fresh young talent. I hear there's a singing 10 year-old from West Virginia who can put her legs behind her head, you know.
Big Fat Liar
What's funnier than Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie? You guessed it, a 300 pound Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie. They promised the sequel would be bigger than the original, but none of us dared to think they were talking about Carrey's drooping leg fat. And yeah, it's pretty funny, but I have to admit it's the ultimate insult when Hollywood would rather dress up attractive people in fat suits than hire one of the many genuinely fat people available for the role.
Dragonfly
Strange new Kevin Costner flick about a doctor who's wife dies and is reincarnated as a dragonfly. Costner's character tries every kind of new-age chicanery to contact his dead wife, not knowing that she was the slightly greenish discoloration on the windshield of his Beemer all along.
Peter Pan 2: Return to Nevermind
Man, when Disney cuts a budget, they cut a budget. Not only did they shamelessly rehash one of their all-time classics by re-arranging the original footage and inserting a computer-animated wisecracking bedpan, they didn't even spring for an original score for the film. Instead, Disney's latest effort is set to Nirvana's 1991 breakthrough album, Nevermind. A great album, but talk about your bizarre creative choices! You can bet there are going to be some tykes choking on their Cow Tails when they come to the theater expecting to hear "You Can Fly!" and instead they get "Territorial Pissings." It really makes me wonder if there's anyone manning the big magic flying ship over there at Disney. If there is, they must have slept through their alarm because I think the magic boat just crashed into a Kmart.
Queen of the Damned
I've always assumed that when you walk through the gates of Hades, they'll have Queen playing at an uncomfortable volume. Apparently I'm not the only one who felt this way, since the band's first exploitation film has them booked on a sold-out tour of hell. Spankingly gay frontman Freddie Prinz Jr. eats up the screen in his musical film debut, and gets some of it stuck in his mustache. They didn't really say either way in the movie, but I've always imagined Queen would have the Village People opening for them on their tour of hell. Partly because I've long suspected they're actually the same band.
Now on Video:
13 Ghosts
What's scarier than a dozen ghosts but not quite as scary as fourteen? That's right, F. Murray Abraham. Striking the same perfect balance of creepy menace he found in Scarface, without going overboard by being hysterically, pants-shittingly scary, Abraham turns in his best performance since he played himself in The Phantom Emancipation Proclamation.
Bones
Is space-doctor turned gangsta-rapper D-Forest Kelley ready for the transition to big-screen leading man? I don't know, you might have to ask him yourself, but he sucked in this one. Even with Pam "Foxy-Boxing" Grier getting his back, I still wasn't able to believe in him as an action stud, and the attempted turns on his trademark catchphrase ("I'm not a role model, I'm a space-doctor.") ranged from the unintentionally funny to the downright pathetic.
J.Lo and Silent Bob Strike Back
They really need to beef up security on Hollywood movie sets these days, because I'm starting to feel like you can't see a movie anymore that doesn't have some clueless pop star wandering in front of the camera and gumming up the works. Sometimes they even play along like they're actually in the movie, it's pathetic. Here we have what would have been a fun family film that's totally spoiled by J.Lo and her pottymouthed antics. What kind of nickname is J.Lo, anyway? Can I get that with fruit in it?
Television:
It's nice to know even when the movies whip it out and piss all over you there's still trust old television and it's top shows to turn to. Except for the Olympics have taken a dump on my TV. So, covered in every kind of bodily waste, I sum up the highlights of the Olympics.
Marguerita Mixing
Ice sculpting is fun, but what do you do when it's done? A giant ice squirrel is about as useful as... no, stop that snide comment, there's absolutely nothing else more useless. Anyway, the Olympics have done good this year, getting the world's top lushes to come in and see how fast they can pound down the sculptures into a fine drink cooler. Roland M. will be playing along at home.
100-Meter Slip-N-Fall
Usually instead of professional athletes this competition is made up of political prisoners and dissidents. They give them two minutes to get across an icy tundra with greased feet and if they make it, they get a commuted sentence. I watch it not so much for the rousing Olympic spirit and athletic prowess as the funny falling down and busting of asses.
Ice Diving
Anybody can execute a perfect slice into water, but it takes one major bad-ass to cut through solid ice. In fact, it's never actually done. Most countries don't participate in this rare event, but the ones who do definitely have dedicated athletes. The highlight for me was China's Ting Wa Noon, who actually broke the ice. He'll probably be awarded the bronze, posthumously.
Video Games:
Simpson's Road Rage (GC, PS2, XB)
Shows how anything is funny, given a few years. The craziest racing games out there features you as O.J. Simpson circa 1994, running from the law with a gun to your head, driven by loyal buddy A.C. You have to escape the law so you can prove your innocence and catch the real killers.
Jonny Moseley: Bad Trix (GBA)
What luck is that? That stupid rabbit spends years trying to get a hold of the cereal just to find out it's poison for rabbits. Now you've got 24 game hours to find a vet and get fixed. Not a real blast, but it was interesting to find out the rabbit was named Jonny. You think they could've made that more obvious in the commercials.
Drackin' II
Nauseating game about a skateboarder who got a hold of a bad Jack in the Box burger and has his tricks and jumps interrupted by violent bouts of vomiting. Can't decide whether it wants to be a skateboarding or a vomiting game, but neither one is very good. Reminded me of my own visits to Tainted Burger, though.
Well, faithful readers, according to USDA regulations that's all I can give you for this week. Be sure to tune back in a few weeks from now for more of your beloved entertainment vittles. Until then!   |