Salvation Army Danny Thomas
i may have mentioned this before at some point, but did you know they have rankings and titles in the salvation army, just like in the actual military army? that's right, with time, patience, dedication, and training, you can rise to the rank of major, lieutenant, colonel... hell, even vice admiral (not actually) of the lord's own fucking army! now, granted, you can't drink, smoke, gamble, or marry anyone outside of the organization (creepy?), but you know... trade offs. anyway. here is one of their thrift stores.
this one was a gimme. my wife drinks coffee out of it at work now. how could you say no?
IT EVEN HAS A NAME. AND! it says "GAY 8" on the bottom, for reasons which are happily unbeknownst to all involved. regardless, wayne gay 8 is a fantastic coffee cup. this is kind of the epitome of the type of thing that makes me wonder if people who don't shop at thrift stores have any idea what they're missing. this is a skull coffee cup named wayne gay 8. it cost, oh, i don't know, a buck, maybe. something like that. you want to show me another store, anywhere, where you could buy that, for any price?
his hair is shaped the same as his butt cheeks. this captures all the drama, passion, intensity, and butt cheek shape of a real actual bullfight, i imagine, without the whole hideous depressing spectacle of a bunch of assholes in ugly outfits spearing a fucking defenseless animal before basically taunting it and killing it in front of several thousand cheering other assholes.
i wish this happened at every match.
i wish this was happening in the street outside my apartment RIGHT FUCKING NOW
ahhh... magical outer space love unicorns, you are a soothing balm to me, as always. i don't honestly know what my favorite part of this picture is. the symmetric nature of the composition? the fact that they're touching horns in front of what appears to be a heart shaped black hole? that people feel compelled to SIGN pieces like this with their own personal names? i just can't decide. oh well.
so ok. here's a pretty remarkable find, in and of itself. all this pampered chef shit is pretty high-end, quality stoneware that will last the rest of your life if you take care of it. i came across one of these exact guys a couple years ago for extremely cheap, and have used the crap out of it ever since, so i was super pumped to see another one. so i'm gawking at it, throwing it in my cart, taking pictures and basically having a little shit fit over on my own when my goodly wife calls over to me from a few feet away: "hey, holy shit, check this out." i, interrupted mid-geek out, respond with my usual snarky impatience "HANG ON THIS IS AMAZING AND I'M TAKING PICTURES OF IT, WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU HAVE OVER THERE THAT'S SO COOL AND IMPORTANT WILL HAVE TO WAIT" (i talk in all caps when i'm annoyed) and when i finally catch my breath again what i do see over yonder but this:
for those of you keeping score at home, that's two of these, one of these, and one of these, all new, untouched, never used, for no more than like five or six bucks a piece, i think. total cost, shipping NOT included, from the pampered chef website: 149.50. total cost from the good people at salvation army? about 32 bucks. you BET we bought them all.
i don't want to make it seem like finds like this are an everyday occurrence. i hope regular readers of this internet thrift focused blogging space (if there are any of you left) will have figured out by now that for every profoundly successful and rewarding trip out into the great secondhand unknown, there are at least as many times when you come home empty handed, having seen nothing but a bunch of ill-fitting clothes, sniveling toddlers, and yanni-centric mixtapes, but with time, dedication, and patience, you will inevitably come across a few gold mines every now and then, provided you have eyes to see. this is indisputably one of them. you're talking about basically a lifetime supply of REALLY high quality stoneware for less than 1/4 of the total cost from the manufacturer, MUCH less if you factor in shipping. that is just insane.
i'd now like to follow up that halfway lucid, cogent argument for the value of exploring the secondhand market with this silly, pointless picture of my good friend mk holding a ceramic unicorn. we're all about balance here at bitter/books LLC, you people should know that by now.
for many years i did not believe that the road runner was an actual creature that existed in nature. i don't know why, i suppose i blame the people at warner brothers for making it hard for my eight year old mind to believe in some magical being that spent all its life running from coyotes and disappearing into a cloud of dust and running into mountains that had tunnel murals painted on the side of them by the aforementioned resourceful coyotes, all in some twisted, malformed, single minded search for birdseed? who could be expected to believe in that? apparently they are a real thing though, real enough to make a kitschy ceramic coffee mug about, at least.
no great surprise, but my sympathies have been mostly for wile e. during the bulk of my life, something about the constantly frustrated struggle of this poor creature just trying to secure himself some sustenance, subjected to the most unimaginably painful tortures again and again, without even the sweet release of death to salve his suffering, all at his own hand, as a result of his own actions, just clicked with me, on whatever level. wile e. coyote as sisyphus, as tantalus, as damocles, as diogenes. as orpheus. i'm reaching, but you get the idea. anyway.
fake feet! wtf? what do you do with fake feet, one might be compelled to ask?
well i guess you put your real feet on them. you got any better ideas? they actually fit my real wife's real feet too, which is kind of creepy. foot fetish enthusiasts, have at it. on second thought, don't. you perverts.
bought this, to no one's great surprise.
that's all. until next time, in the words of the bard -
Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.