I am a sick individual. Sometimes the darkest of jokes makes me laugh out loud until I am out of control. Yes, gallows humor speaks to my heart.
I am indeed sick. I have known this for a long time.
The good news came yesterday, though, when I found out that I am not alone. At the Yale Center for British Art museum store, I met my match in Paul and Fred--Stress Paul and Dead Fred, to be exact.
Fred, being dead, is beyond worrying about himself. He is the homicide victim whose figure has been chalked out. Cause of death? A pen through the heart. Poor guy.
Paul and Fred have friends elsewhere in the likes of Hanging Harry and Splat Stan. Their names tell the story. They are not in a position to talk, either.
I spent a ridiculous $14.95 on Paul because I had to. Anything that kills me like that needs to be within reach, needs to be made a gift to--well, Paul.
Now, if this product line isn't unbelievable enough, consider the public response to these rubber dudes.
The clerk there said that many customers complain about these figures because they are in poor taste. Oh my. Poor taste at a museum shop. Imagine.
Some people don't have a sense of humor, I remarked.
Ah, but some do, said the clerk, who added that she is amazed by the kind of people who buy these things. One purchaser of Dead Fred is a woman who is in charge of maintaining the morbidity statistics for the State of--well, I won't say because maybe she'd like to remain anonymous. Just her and Fred all alone. And others who deal with life and death most graphically.
The dreary and righteous can complain all they want, though. These guys are the best-sellers in the shop, and they are staying.
I am indeed sick. I have known this for a long time.
The good news came yesterday, though, when I found out that I am not alone. At the Yale Center for British Art museum store, I met my match in Paul and Fred--Stress Paul and Dead Fred, to be exact.
Paul is a stress reliever, a man curled up in a ball and ready to take whatever bit of abuse might come his way from the stressed out and frustrated giant who holds him in hand.
Fred, being dead, is beyond worrying about himself. He is the homicide victim whose figure has been chalked out. Cause of death? A pen through the heart. Poor guy.
Paul and Fred have friends elsewhere in the likes of Hanging Harry and Splat Stan. Their names tell the story. They are not in a position to talk, either.
I spent a ridiculous $14.95 on Paul because I had to. Anything that kills me like that needs to be within reach, needs to be made a gift to--well, Paul.
Now, if this product line isn't unbelievable enough, consider the public response to these rubber dudes.
The clerk there said that many customers complain about these figures because they are in poor taste. Oh my. Poor taste at a museum shop. Imagine.
Some people don't have a sense of humor, I remarked.
Ah, but some do, said the clerk, who added that she is amazed by the kind of people who buy these things. One purchaser of Dead Fred is a woman who is in charge of maintaining the morbidity statistics for the State of--well, I won't say because maybe she'd like to remain anonymous. Just her and Fred all alone. And others who deal with life and death most graphically.
The dreary and righteous can complain all they want, though. These guys are the best-sellers in the shop, and they are staying.
This is not a paid blog post. I am not a blogging ho (although a miniature rubber night-shifter in this line-up might be just the thing). I just thought the thing was too darn funny to let go. And that the very stressed out people who could use these toys to maybe regain their sense of humor are shunning these dead boys.
Not me, though. I'm hanging with Paul.
5 comments:
Oh wow! These are cool. And, i know some friends who might appreciate these as gifts!!
Indeed, you are not alone, Sandy. LOL
So Sweet Sandy lets go hang out together....
Some people don't have a sense of humor. I don't really like to hang out with those people:)
I need Paul! I have a morbid sense of humor. I need to relieve some stress.
What is a blogging ho?
Nice review, by the way ...
I found your post via Google, trying to see if I should buy one of these Stress Paul's.
My two main selling points: I need to get my hubby a stress ball to put in a gift I'm putting together for him: "I hate my job" in a box. I'm including a beach-scene postcard for pretending he's in a happier place than work; a bottle of aspirin, "for all the headaches;" a copy of The Cynic's Dictionary; some framed Dilbert comics; and a stress ball.
In researching stress balls, I found this one on ebay. I think I might just be insane enough to go ahead and pay that much for it. Ha.
The second big selling point? My husband's name happens to be Paul. How absurdly fitting.
Cheers.
Post a Comment