What's the Holdup, Angel?

This probably qualifies as a seasonal post that's, well, out of season.  But frankly, there's so much trashy Christmas merchandise on the shelves that I could probably run a whole year's worth of blogs on that topic alone, so I'm throwing one in anyway.

Today's terror presents a bit of an existential dilemma.  I mean, heaven is supposed to be paradise -- a place of beauty and glory and perfection and eternity, right?  And there are angels there, right?  So theoretically, angels should be beautiful and glorious and perfect and eternal... yes?

Well, whenever it's my time to go, I sincerely hope that I don't end up in any afterlife where God's operations staff look like this:

They got the part about six wings right, but not the part about covering the feet and face. Which is kind of a shame, all things considered.

What's even scarier than granny-angel's shocking (and aged) appearance is the fact that she's apparently being held up for her angelic pocket change, because the last person I saw reach for the sky that dramatically was Don Knotts.

Blue Walrus

You know what your life is missing right now?

A walrus.

More than that, a blue walrus.  With a giant head.  And a big red nose.  And, uh, fuzzy whiskers.  Wearing a flowered hat.  Yep, that's what you need to make your life complete.

Fortunately, the local thrift store can accommodate your burning need for such a walrus:

Don't forget the shifty eyes!

Eight-Legged Freak-Out

Keeping in theme with the previous post, we have another whimsical wall-hanging:

"Hehehe... hehe... HAA ha ha ha hehe!" *twitch*

And in this case, the word "whimsical" can be interpreted to mean "clearly demented and mentally unhinged, while suffering from some disfiguring multichromatic pox and a bad case of bloat."

Also, missing one appendage... assuming it's actually intended to be an octopus.  But then again, I could be jumping to conclusions.

Departing Ham

Today's terror is yet another of those head-shakers that makes you ask, "What purpose was this decoration intended to serve?"

The rear end of a pig. Not a view I generally go out of my way to see.

I mean, who wakes up in the morning and says, "Gee, I really wish I had a wall hanging of a rosy-cheeked pig's bum with the word 'BYE' carved into one ham"?

Horatio Hornlawyer

I understand that sometimes those overseas factories have a hard time figuring out what English-language words to put on their products.  I imagine it goes something like this (in, of course, another language):

Modeler: "Boss, I've finished the new figurine design."
Boss: "Great! Get it on the production floor."

Modeler: "Well, there's a problem. I don't have any titles for the books, and it looks silly to leave them blank."

Boss: "Can't you just make something up?"

Modeler: "I think we ought to use real book titles; otherwise, it'll look like we didn't even try."

Boss: "Where are they being shipped to?"

Modeler: "America, I think."

Boss: "They speak English in America, right? Hey, I think our company lawyer has some English-language books in his office. Go copy those titles down and put them on the model."

That's the only reason I can figure that you'd end up with an adorable little sailor-suited bear playing with his model sailboat, like this:

Isn't Sailor-Bear cute?

...While sitting atop a stack of law texts:

He'd better be cute. If you say otherwise, he'll sue you.

Love Is... Creepy.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you've probably figured out by now that I really don't like cutesy little figurines with ditzy or affectionate sayings on them.  Perhaps it's a flaw in my character, or my healthy inner snark, or perhaps I just have stronger views on the nature of love and don't feel that it can be adequately conveyed by a badly-rendered clay lump and a trite phrase.

But a lot of that comes down to taste, and I have no real problem with other people liking such things.  Except when they're really weird or creepy or odd, at which point I feel a little justified in poking fun at them.

Gives a new, creepier meaning to that Jack and Jill rhyme about pails of water.

...And what part of love, exactly, is running around in the fields totally naked and collecting your tears in buckets?  Even Miss Havisham didn't go THAT far off the deep end when her boyfriend left.

(Well, okay, there was that bit with the rats in the shell of the wedding cake, and the ruined dress and things.  But at least the woman kept her clothes on when she went crazy.)

Broccolliflowegrape Mug?

Today's specimen has yet to be identified.  Here's what we know so far, agents:

• It's possibly representative of some sort of vegetative matter. Suggested theories so far are broccoli, cauliflower, or a bunch of grapes.
• It's green. Sort of. Chartreuse, perhaps, is a better description.
• It has only one arm.
• It appears to be wearing shoes.
• It has facial features, but it is somewhat difficult to differentiate them.
• It appears to be either happy or demented.
• Its hairstyle (if that is indeed hair) might have been inspired by either Elvis Presley or Mme. de Pompadour.

Just... brace yourselves.

And it's happy to seeeeeee you!

It's clearly intended to be some sort of mug.  Which presumably means that you're meant to drink out of it.  But look deep into its eyes, and tell me: Would you put this... thing... anywhere near your mouth?

I didn't think so.  Me, either.

Thanks to Yaexrae for today's submission!  (...I think.)

Shoot No Evil

This creepy little monkey looks like it must have once been a part of one of those sanzaru sets (the ubiquitous "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil" monkeys). Unfortunately, it seems that this little guy failed to keep his mouth shut and ticked off Don Corleone or somebody, because he has what appears to be a neat bullet hole through his forehead:

Either he's speaking no evil, or he's smirking because he's secretly mocking you. I'm voting for the second option.

Granted,  I have never particularly liked anthropomorphic simians in any context (except perhaps this one), but knocking them off like the proverbial shooting-gallery ducks them seems a bit extreme.

So I'm guessing the hole actually supposed to be some sort of candle vent or something (though the whole back of the figure is hollow, so it shouldn't need one), but why would you design a figure with an opening right THERE? It just looks really weird.

Spheriform Santa

Okay... I know Santa Claus is supposed to be plump and jolly, but representing him as an actual sphere is a bit much:

"Ho Ho Hoooo... whoooaa!" *rolls away*

Yep, that's an actual ball-shaped body. Note that it's not a Christmas tree ornament, which might make sense given traditional blown-glass Christmas balls... it's a figurine, meant to sit around on tables and terrify small children with its rolypolyosity.

Or perhaps this is in the off season, and Santa just puts on weight as he rests up from all that hard gift-delivering. After all, Saint Nick is clad only in green long johns here, instead of his usual fur-lined coat and pants.  Maybe that's what he wears (along with his ruffled red hat) when he goes fishing in the tropics.

Speaking of fish -- in my quest to bring you the most accurate blog post possible, I engaged in meticulous research (read: a quick Google search) and discovered that there is actually a reason for Santa to be carrying a fish here.  There's apparently an Irish folk tale about Saint Nicholas bringing magic fish to a widow.

...Yeah. It's pretty weird.  I prefer the one where he stuffs people's socks full of cash.

Undead Christmas Deer

The holidays are a time when tradition reigns supreme.  Growing up, my Christmas experience was no exception to this rule -- though in my family, it was as much for reasons of frugality as for love of tradition.  My grandparents lived through the Great Depression, and those conservative fiscal habits were deeply ingrained in us at an early age (meaning I come by my thrift-store shopping honestly!).

Because we tended to reuse and recycle rather than buying new things, much of our holiday decor hailed from previous decades.  One house rule was that we didn't buy new gift wrap until we finished off what we already had, including the stockpile we'd inherited when my grandfather died.  This meant that we were still wrapping gifts in paper from the 1960s -- hot pink and lime green and very mod -- until I was in college.  (Around the year 2000 my mother rebelled and started buying gift bags, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were still some 1960s gift wrap in the attic.)  We also have an aluminum Christmas tree (the kind Charlie Brown refused to buy in A Charlie Brown Christmas), ornaments dating back to the 1940s, and loads of vintage decor items around the house.  I attribute much of my fondness for midcentury kitsch to being surrounded by it during the holidays growing up.

So imagine my delight when I happened across these cute deer at Goodwill a couple of months ago!  They're rather shabby and badly-painted, but I quite liked them; they reminded me of the miniature deer I used to tie to Scotch tape dispensers and cram into the branches of our tree.  (Hey, when you're five years old, a tape dispenser looks kind of like a sleigh from the side.)

Christmas kitsch at its kitschiest.

But I noticed something odd -- that seam around the neck.  At first I thought they were containers of some kind, but on closer inspection I decided that it was just easier for the manufacturer to line up the hollow molds there than to do a side-by-side mold with the skinny antlers and legs.

A major problem with vintage items is that some of the materials don't age well.  In this case, it was the adhesive that failed.  Because when I tried to pick up one of the deer...

GAAAAAHHH!

Well, that was disturbing.  So much so that (after taking the photo) I initially walked away without buying them... and when I went back later to pick them up, they'd been snatched up by some other lover of kitsch.  A week later, I saw someone selling a similar pair of deer for ten dollars, and there were at least five people fighting over them.  Apparently I'm not the only one who's nostalgic about Christmas decor.

Lesson learned: Always buy your undead headless zombie Christmas deer the first time around.

Poor Placement

I'm not sure this comes across clearly in the photograph, so you'll just have to take my word for it... but when I was walking down the aisle at the thrift store, I did a neck-injuring double-take when I saw this candle on the shelf:

THEY'RE BIRDS, I SWEAR.

Up close, it's obviously a little girl bending over a couple of ducks or geese who are looking up at her.  It's a common motif; here's a less-questionable variant of the same thing:

G-rated version.

From a short distance away, though, my first impression was that those birds were, um, something else (normally associated with owls, rather than waterfowl, thanks to a certain chain restaurant).  My second reaction, once I realized they were ducks and not something requiring censorship, was to wonder if the birds were, uh...  Well, this is an all-ages blog, so let's just say it was a really bad idea to put their beaks pointing that direction, okay?

Once you see what it really is, you can't imagine it's anything else.  But from five feet away, it looks more than a little odd.

Now, you're probably saying, "Come on, that's such a ridiculous stretch that only someone with a dirty mind would even consider something like that!"  Well, possibly you're right.  So to make it up to all you naysayers, I present to you this cute, fluffy, innocent bunny:

O_o

o_O

...Is it just me, or is that...

NOPE! Not saying a word. *whistles innocently*

The Tale of the Seaquorn

Today, boys and girls, I'm going to tell you a fairy tale!

Once upon a time, in a place far, far away, was a magical land where unicorns lived.  Now, boys and girls, long ago people thought unicorns looked something like this:

And more recently, people have thought maybe unicorns looked something like this:

But you, boys and girls, know better than that!  After all, you are all smart little boys and girls who paid attention in etymology class, and you know that the word "unicorn" comes from two words:  The prefix "uni," meaning "one," and the noun "corn," meaning "corn."

Yes, that kind of corn.  On the cob.  Like you eat.

What, you don't believe me?  Well, then, how do you explain THIS?

The... Seacorse? Equorn? Seaquorn? What do you even call this?

...Well, yes; it actually does look more like a seahorse than a unicorn.  And it's in water, judging by the blue waves on its base.  But you're missing the greater point, which is WHY THE HECK WOULD ANYONE MAKE THIS?!

Now, I can see that if someone found a stunted, twisted ear of corn, they might imagine that it looked a bit like a seahorse.  But this is not an ear of corn -- this is a ceramic figurine. That someone designed. And pitched to a production company. And got approval for.  And manufactured. And convinced a buyer to stock in a store.  And someone bought.  And had in their house.

So the moral of this story, boys and girls, is... um... don't eat lead.

(Thanks to Yaexrae for today's photo submission!)

Creepy Wallace Berrie, part 2

In case you doubted the creep factor of the figurines referenced in my previous post, here's some more evidence:

Just... no.

Why...? Who would...? And where are his pants?!

Creepy Wallace Berrie

I'll admit that I have never really understood the Wallace Berrie (and imitators) phenomenon; I find the dumpy, monochromatic figurines with engraved sayings ugly and kind of dorky (anything that routinely substitutes "wuv" for "love" just rubs me the wrong way, unless it's The Princess Bride).  But I recognize that that art style was popular in the 1970s; and the people who bought them had probably already had their sense of taste destroyed by the drug culture and double-knit polyester and Billy Jack, so it wasn't really their fault.

But this... this is just disturbing, no matter what kind of drugs you're on:

Because nothing says "sexual assault" like a lip-smacking leprechaun.

Setting aside the grammar error (it should be "lie down," since it's a mandate)...  The lecherous expression; the "Wild Thing"-like solicitation... What recipient would NOT be creeped out by this?

Take A Bobble Out of Crime

There's such a thing as a McGruff the Crime Dog bobblehead?!

Bobbling away at crime since 1980.

I would not have predicted this.  I mean, McGruff's target demographic doesn't strike me as overlapping with your stereotypical bobblehead collectors.

Although, on further reflection, the items in the background of this picture are FAR more interesting -- I'm kind of wishing I'd taken photos of them instead of being distracted by Bobbles McGruff.  What on earth is the red/yellow monstrosity on the right side of the screen?  A child strangling a floral teddy-giraffe-lion, maybe?  And the accordion-playing angel reminds me of this classic Gary Larson cartoon:

(Really, what's most disturbing about this whole thing is that every time I look at head-bobbing McGruff pointing his finger at me, I relive the horror of watching Camillo Teti's Titanic.)

(You're welcome.)

(No, I won't pay your therapy bills.)

About Thrifty Terrors

Welcome to Thrifty Terrors!

This is the requisite introductory post, which will explain what this blog is about. I fully expect that no one will read it (you all want to get to the funny stuff, right?), but it's here for those dedicated few who are completists.

Why thrift stores?

For years, I have been a hardcore thrift-store shopper.  The majority of my clothing and home furnishings are from secondhand stores. I'm basically a cheap person (why spend $50 on a new pair of jeans when I can buy a hardly-worn pair for $5, and they're even pre-shrunk?), and I'll confess that I enjoy the challenge of finding unique and interesting items for a fraction of retail price.  I've gotten so good at it that I even take requests, now; my family calls my ability to find things at thrift stores a superpower.

Why terrors?

However, there's a darker side to thrift stores:  The grayware that wouldn't sell at regular stores.  The weird items of clothing that you can't imagine anyone putting on their body on purpose.  The gifts, still in original packaging, that were so awful they couldn't be re-gifted. The bizarre trinkets from someone's midcentury kitsch collection, donated en masse after a relative passed away.

Mind you, I have nothing against kitsch.  In fact, I have a great appreciation for the humorously bizarre:  My family once took a summer vacation to drive down every extant mile of Route 66, stopping into each remaining tourist trap.  I have played mini-golf among concrete dinosaurs.  I have paid money to visit "mystery spots" along old highways.  I have ugly ceramic figurines and old plastic toys and weird family memorabilia in my house, so I understand that emotional attachment has nothing to do with the attractiveness or usefulness of such items.

I also understand that people have different tastes, and what looks silly to one person might inspire a strong emotion in another.  For example, this sort of thing is not to my taste, but I recognize that somebody somewhere probably thinks it's cute:

Cutesy cherub thing falling on its head. Meh.

On the other hand, there are things in this world that any rational person, no matter how emotionally attached, must admit are a little bit strange:

"Peeeeekaboooo... I seeeeeeeee you!"

Over the years of my thrift-storing, I had occasionally taken photos of weird items to share with friends and laugh, but what pushed me over the edge to start this blog was a set of ceramic kitchen containers at the local Goodwill store.  These containers were special -- they didn't say Flour or Sugar, like normal canisters.  Instead, each one was imprinted with a terrible three-dimensional transfer of The Last Supper, turning Christ and his disciples into amorphous blobs of glazed clay that someone, somewhere, had once lined up in a row on their kitchen counter.  And looked at.  And possibly eaten food from.

Sadly, I didn't take a photo then -- but the longer I thought about this travesty (did we really need to replicate da Vinci -- badly -- on made-in-China kitchenware?), the more convinced I was that someone needed to share such amazingly tasteless things with the world.

And that, dear reader, is what I intend to highlight in this blog.  The bizarre; the disturbing; the oh-dear-goodness-what-were-they-thinking sort of kitsch.  The accessories that would have looked out of place even in the wildest eras of fashion.  The merchandise that never should have been produced for the consumer market in the first place.

And most importantly...

It's all in good fun.  Yes, I'm snarking about things that once belonged to real people; I recognize that there is probably a risk of offending someone.  My goal is not to make fun of the people who owned (or invented, or marketed) these items; it's just to point out the inherent humor of the silly things we become attached to (particularly when taken out of context).

And bear in mind that I am just as ready to mock myself and my own weird collections as anyone else's.  Just to prove that, here's a picture of me being stomped on by a dragon: