|
What is it about thrift stores? In recent years, it seems as though the public's perception of these gritty consignment shops has done a complete 180. No longer a haven strictly for those with a rebellious fashion sense and eBay dealers, thrift shops have become a more diversely accepted source for material fun and oddball decor -- a general Babylon for cheap treasure seekers.
While there may have only been certain "types" of people willing to indulge in the dirty past belongings of strangers in former times, nowadays, a person's vested interest in glassware from 1976 isn't as typically frowned upon. It's not just for kitsch fishers anymore, so if you're willing to deal with a few traces of decades-old feces and an intermittent but unmistakable stench of piss, you just might turn into a fan. For that cause, I'm not really sure if what I'm about to show you will be of any help, but hey -- intro paragraphs are usually bullshit anyway.
There's a few thrifts around here that I hit fairly regularly. At least, I'm there often enough to be on a first name basis with the scores of old, Cryptkeeperesque beauties running the stores. I don't know why consignment shops have taken to this unspoken rule where all the workers must be over 400 years old, but it's definitely true, and my best rationalization is that the store owners feel that the workers must be at least as old as the oldest broken candy dish in the places. I guess it makes sense in some odd way, but a word of warning: between the fact that they use appropriately ancient cash registers and calculators to work out your owed amount and subsequent change, and the fact that they were around when the California redwoods stood at a sprout four feet, be prepared to give up an hour of your life when making the cash exchange. Sometimes it's worth the effort, other times not. For what I'm about the show you, I'll let you be the judge...
It's the five dollar bag sale, folks. The ultimate thrift store experience -- the sale us hunters pine for, the sale that proves the worth of an SUV's oversized trunk. THE BAG SALE. Basically, it works like this -- you pay five bucks, and you're allowed to fill a very flimsy yet adequately sized garbage bag full of whatever the Hell your dirty heart desires. It's a great way for people with fetishes for old, defecated panties to get their rocks off while remaining under the radar. In this case, with this thrift store, the bag sale only applied to their "Children's Room." Or as it's painted on the door, "Children 'S Room." I'd be lying if I said this wasn't the first place I'd hit anyway, so I wasn't disappointed.
The picture you're looking at up there is the actual bag, and the actual stuff. Believe me, if I wanted to fabricate an article about a bunch of crap picked up from a thrift store's bag sale, I would've picked better junk to talk about. This is a true story, which'll hopefully help you forgive it if it's not all that interesting. Hey, even Robert Stack had to talk about boring mysteries once in a while. This isn't the UFO Abduction Case of thrift store stories, but at least it really happened. I'm part lizard and my tongue is the keeper of my secret, sacred third eyeball. And I speak French.
Ready to see the goods? During my frenzied filling of the progressively more ripped garbage bag, I honestly had no clue what I was throwing in there. I sort of went on autopilot for that fifteen minutes, just trying my best to cram in as much of the passably nontoxic crap as possible. Once I had the chance to peruse the assumedly impressive bounty, it turned out not to be all that impressive after all. On the plus side, where else was I going to find a Froot Loops "Toucan Sam" plushie? Let's review...
Article continued below advertisement:
Visit our sponsors to support the site!
Keep in mind, everything I'm about to show you is from one single bag. Not three bags, not two bags. ONE. Shown above is the first set of baubles, including a "Fozzie" Muppet doll that seems to have previously been used as a sponge for someone who needed to wipe really rancid oil all over something, a "Snuffleluffagus" doll with the appropriately phallic snout and very little signs of bodily fluid stains, and what's that on the upper left? Yes, a Yeti figure. Like Twizzlers, they make mouths happy. Rounding out Group One is some strange ladybug figure from the 70s, and a hat-donning monkey plushie holding a can of Pepsi. I couldn't possibly claim that the total value of this junk even remotely approaches five bucks, but remember, there's more!
Okay, I was a little excited about the "Koosh Bubble Fun" Mr. Potato Head, mostly because it appeared to be brand new in a sealed box. How wrong I was. It's actually just been re-taped, and the contents are stickier than porn dick in a sauna. Old, crusty bubble syrup is easily one of the most adhesive substances on the planet, requiring turpentine and around 32 showers to completely remove from your skin. I have no turpentine and am only up to shower #6, so looks like I'm stuck as a bubbly filthmonger for the next few weeks. Again.
I'm not entirely sure how you're supposed to work it -- a quick glance as the appropriately sludge-covered box indicates that Mr. Potato Head himself is to be filled with bubble liquid, with all of him arms, legs and variously sized noses serving as wands. It's a mutant hybrid of some of the world's classic toys, and it's covered in goo that I can only pray is just bubble juice. As an added bonus, all text on the box is reprinted in multiple foreign languages. I like the idea that my Bubble Potato King is potentially well traveled.
Here's Milton Bradley's "Body Language" board game, from 1975. The eBay vulture in me had to pick it up, as the box art features Lucille Ball in various pantomiming poses. I said to myself... "Hey, wait a minute, Lucille Ball? She's DEAD! This must be worth millions!" Well, not really, but I had a nagging suspicion that the late Lucy's wacky face would boost "Body Language's" value. Nope. It's worth jack shit. People are buying grime-stained Mercury Dimes with the dates burned off, but not a single person is interested in "Body Language." Not to be insensitive, but I've gotta call 'em like I see 'em -- Lucy's stock really went down when she died.
I'm never going to actually play the game, but it appears to be some deal where a group of friends have to make stupid faces and see if their teammates can guess what emotion they're trying to portray. I see more coups in the department of balancing a coffee table with mismatched leg lengths, but whatever, I wasted too much of the garbage bag's sacred space with this one. Thanks, Lucy. You stole my fire.
More toys -- my favorite is the "Finger Man" action figure, an entry from the Spy Kids line if memory serves. There's a Jurassic Park Raptor too, cruelly branded with the "JP" logo on his poor, reptilian thigh. The rest are barely worth mentioning, save for the fact that the shark figurine has wheels. Those oddly shaped plastic discs seem familiar, though I can't remember what game they're from. You know, this whole bag sale thing has pretty much sucked thus far. It's amazing what your mind chooses to neglect when otherwise filled with the thrill of filling up a Hefty bag with someone's old, soiled junk. The only way any of this stuff will benefit me is if everyone on my block decides to hold a contest where we competes to see who can get the most garbage on their curb for the weekly pickup. Maybe Lucy's stupid game will come in handy after all.
Here's a collection of 32-cent "Comic Strip Classics" stamps, neatly framed and in perfect shape. Probably the best find of the bunch, though technically, I shouldn't have it. See, this wasn't in the bag sale kids' room. I just threw it in there when nobody was looking. Some might call it "stealing," but really, crime has no meaning when you've got a chance to lift some free Popeye stamps. A quick check puts the set's value at around ten bucks, but best of all, I'm now the only person on the East Coast with a "Terry and the Pirates" postage stamp. For someone like me, I'll take whatever honor I can find.
Ah good, I was hoping for more pointless old board games -- 1979's "Dead Stop" game, and 1256's "Easy Money." Neither are worth much. The actual playing board for the Easy Money game is the most scattered, incomprehensible thing you'll ever see. It's like an amalgam of hieroglyphics and that little thing that scrolls across the TV screen detailing stock values, and if that's any indication, I'll never take the time to learn the rules. Looks like another resident for my dungeon closet, where shitty things go to die. Dead Stop's box explains that you need to use your "deductive powers" to win, and that's enough of a warning for me to throw it in the same pile as Easy Money. We don't appear to be mounting towards any terrific climaxes with this bag sale, but keep the faith. We've only got to find 5 bucks worth of value here. It's not impossible.
More dolls, though these are a little cooler than the ones shown earlier. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles "Raphael" plush is at least worth a quarter to me, so we're on the road to victory! The Snoopy plush is from 1968, and amazingly free from any disconcerting stains. The strange character on the right is an "Olympics" doll that I've already chucked in the closet, but truly, the winner of this round is Toucan Sam. I'm now the proud owner of a Froot Loops doll. Wait, erase "proud." I just own a Froot Loops doll; there's no pride involved. Actually, one could argue that there's plenty of shame attached. Doesn't matter either way -- something in this bag smelled poisonous, and I'll probably be dead long before anyone can poke fun.
The picture speaks for itself, and there's certainly nothing wrong with those Charlie Brown dictionary volumes. Those who've regaled in the glories of Charlie Brown's encyclopedia set know just how strangely addictive they are, and the dictionaries aren't much different. They're from the 70s, when Schultz was still really motivated, and absolutely filled with comics and doodles you can't find anywhere else. It's not a complete dictionary -- they just choose random words to showcase, throwing a Peanuts drawing alongside each to illustrate their definitions. They even use each word in a sentence. An example:
ground: Linus is digging a hole in the ground. He is digging the earth beneath him. Charlie Brown in standing on the ground behind him.
The ultimate tool for the literary enthusiast. They're not really worth anything, but as far as I'm concerned, these were keepers. Snoopy's "Flying Ace Fun Book" is used, apparently by the dumbest kid in history, who preferred to draw ducks in the spaces where he was supposed to be matching up words.
"The Guinness Game of World Records," missing all the really important pieces. You'd think I'd know by now to check the box contents before making a purchase, but solace is found in knowing that I wouldn't like the game any better even if it was complete. It's sad that I prefer the filthy TMNT plushie to an intensely crafted game that likely took weeks and months to create, though I can't say if it's more sad for me or the fine folks at Guinness. Despite the testimonial I lent to thrift stores in the opening paragraphs, this bag sale crap is painting a much different picture. It's like Santa's backup sack for bad kids when he runs out of coal and dead fish, only worse because at least coal and dead fish aren't covered in old spit.
We're almost finished, thank God, and this next entry is more than a little suspicious -- a Ziploc bag filled with rubber flies, worms, spiders, crabs...and Winnie the Pooh. There's an interesting dichotomy at work here, and to be honest, it scares me. It's like the previous owner included Pooh in his bag of playtime black magic to throw his parents off -- take away Pooh, and you've got the makings of an eventual serial killer. Or at best, someone who likes bugs too much.
This review has been an ongoing mission to find a clear five dollar value, and folks, there it is -- the "Bonecrusher" Transformers Constructicons figure, in close to perfect shape. I could arguably sell this for five bucks, so everything else is also-arguably free. Success? You decide.
You know, showing you all of this junk seemed like such a good idea at the time, but I'm left without a strong climax, and let's face it, none of this stuff was really all that fun to begin with. I've gotta find something worthwhile to cap this thing off. Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm x7. Wait, got it -- remember that previously used Snoopy Fun Book?
Kids were pretty sick back then.
RETURN TO X-E!
|
|
|
|
