WilliamBruceWest.com

Going through my posts, I realized that I never really spoke much about my time in comics. On top of that, I’m supposed to be this big collector of comics and toys, yet there aren’t many posts that reflect my hobby. So, instead of being all snarky and digging up a bunch of dirt, I figured I’d try something new, by showcasing a few of the best items in my collections that most haven’t seen. You might see some cool stuff, or it might result in me having my apartment broken into. In any case, I’ll give a little rundown of its history, and voila, I’ve got a new regular column.

So, today’s item is what you see here:

Yes, that’s a first printing of the hard to find variant cover of Amazing Spider-Man #583. The first of the popular Obama Comic Cover gimmick, this book sold out quicker than hotels on prom night. Last I checked, I think it got up to about 5 printings, many of which are still being sold above cover price. Well, I somehow managed to get a copy. But wait, there’s more! If you look closely, you’ll notice that it’s signed. No, it’s not signed by Big O, himself, but by Marvel Editor-In-Chief and Chief Creative Officer, Joe Quesada. So, how did I snag this comic? Well, it’s funny you should ask…

Last year, I went to the New York Comic-Con with a couple of my Diamond friends.  Near the end of most conventions, the Marvel booth has a giveaway panel. This isn’t a nice, orderly contest, however.  No, at the Marvel booth, everyone stands around yelling for shit, kinda like those  businessmen watching Jennifer Connelly get it with that double-ended dildo in Requiem For A Dream.  There’s a guy (and I really should know his name by this point), who’s like Wayne Brady with the huckster showmanship of Stan Lee. The Marvel Minions bring him large, unmarked boxes of stuff, and he just grabs something out. The stuff ranges from big ticket items (autographed books), to dead overstock (Dark Towers hardcovers), to random licensed items (lunchbox, anyone?) on down to Saga books. That’s right – I’ve seen them give away the same crappy promo comic you would’ve gotten stuffed in your bag at your LCS.

Anyway, I’ve witnessed this thing quite a few times, so there’s generally a formula: “Wayne Lee” generally looks around to see who wants the item most. Sometimes, he might ask a trivia question or ask you to dance for him or something.  He usually goes for the cute kid, the 20-ish girl, etc. In fact, he tends to go for everyone *except* the stereotypical “fanboy”. By adhering to this pattern, the Marvel Giveaway Panel may be Marvel’s smartest initiative to reach out to a new audience; cater to the young, the women, etc. So, the trick is to save your energy for something that you really want. Nobody walks away with 2 items. Not even that  kid in the wheelchair. If you don’t want the Spider-Man sleeping bag, don’t even waste the energy to acknowledge it. Wayne’s pretty good at scanning the crowd, so he’s gauging what you really want. When everyone’s jumping up and down like they’re on The Price Is Right, you become more conspicuous if you stand still. Wayne notices that, and he knows you’re being strategic. Hell, it’s best not to even make eye contact with him. Save it for the big prize.

So, I knew all of the above going in, and I used all that to play my hand. I didn’t acknowledge the Wolverine baseball cap or the Eternals hardcover. Out of the gate, we knew that the big ticket item was the Obama cover, especially since this was about 2 weeks after the inauguration. There wasn’t even a second printing at this point, yet here it was, SIGNED by the creative head of Marvel. I knew they had 5 copies to give away, and those were the only things I went for.

After he had given away the 4th copy, I probably should have gotten discouraged. I mean, I’d been at this panel for about an hour and a half, watching people sacrifice their young for a Hulk pencil sharpener. One thing about me, however, is that I don’t quit. I had a good feeling. I had no basis for said optimism, but I really thought I was going to leave with one of those books. I’ve actually been really lucky in life when it comes to comic-related contests. When I was 12, I won a Batman watch from a Choice Hotels Batman Returns sweepstakes. When I was 13, I won some Avengers/X-Men Bloodties trading cards from a contest I’d forgotten I had even entered. And the list goes on. So, I felt like some of that magic might be in the cards for me for that Spidey comic. My friends were leaving to go to dinner, and some of the booths had even shut down, but I was determined to see this to the end.

Wayne got to the final copy, and made quite a showing about it being the final copy. He paced the floor with it. He’d stop and think about whether the time was right to give it away (he does this a LOT – pulls out an item, gauges the reaction, and then swaps it for a Human Torch backpack once the fever builds). He decided to ask a question: “What’s Wolverine’s real name?” This, my friends, is somewhat of a trick question. I didn’t know which answer he wanted. After all, everybody knows it’s “Logan”, yet this was after Origin had come out, so the real answer was “James Howlett”. Seeing as how he IS the guy from Marvel, I figured Wayne would want the Howlett answer. So, I jumped up and down, screaming “James Howlett!” I could hear a good deal of the crowd going the Logan route, while my fellow fanboys were chiming along with the Howlett chorus. I have to believe that Wayne noticed how I’d played the game. I think he knew that I was there for one thing, and he was determined to make me wait for it. Or, maybe he just noticed me at that point. Whatever it was, he was prepared to make my day. It felt like slow motion, as he walked over and handed me the book. In my haze, I shielded it until I could get out of the crowd, and I quickly put it in my sketchbook for safekeeping. Once I got to an empty corner of the Javits Center, I double-checked to make sure that it was real, and that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. What I saw in my hands was the book that you saw above, and it’s been sitting on my makeshift mantle ever since.

“They got all the right moves in all the right faces. So yeah, we’re going down.”

I’ve been told that I don’t blog enough on a personal level anymore. The Adventures West Coast posts are all well and good, but they don’t have the gravitas of the Lesbian Chase or Marion Barry Karaoke posts of years past (if you haven’t read my archives, they’re really quite good! I advise you to read them now, while they’re free. When I become famous, you’re only gonna get those in my book!). Anyway, something happened to me today that I felt should be shared.

I’ve long felt that some people don’t have the capacity to be bad. Sure, they wanna be cool like the next guy, and scheme and cut shady deals, but for every Zack Morris, there are about 150 Screeches. I am one such Screech. I tried to fight the giraffe, and the giraffe won. Let me wind it back, though.

For anyone who has never read this blog/known me, I love toys. I buy toys. I don’t usually play with them, but they typically reside in a glass case from Ikea (I highly recommend the DETOLF). In any case, my preferred toy line at the moment is DC Comics figures from Mattel. These either come in the form of DC Universe Classics (I tweet about these a LOT) or the Movie Masters figure line from The Dark Knight movie. This story concerns the latter.

The Movie Masters were released 2 years ago, when The Dark Knight actually hit theaters. They were hyperdetailed figures, with a good bit of articulation, and pretty decent likenesses of the characters. They weren’t all that popular after awhile, and they all went to clearance before the 3 series was released. Well, Mattel decided to make them an online-only collection, where they would release a new one on their MattyCollector.com website on a monthly basis. This idea sucked because they were charging, roughly $20 (not including shipping) per figure. The figures were nice, but not that nice. At San Diego Comic-Con last year, they announced that the figures would first be sold online, but would then make their way to Toys “R” Us stores exclusively. I figured I’d wait for the TRU release so that I wouldn’t have to pay for shipping, plus there was no way TRU was going to charge $20 for them. I watched as the Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent figures sold out online, but I was sticking to my plan. I was hoping that Mattel had put some stock aside for the TRU sales, so I wasn’t gonna order online. Then, I experienced a bit of a toy drought. A bout of ennui had inspired several toy hunts of epic proportion – all of which yielded NOTHING. At the same time, blog posts from Matty seemed to imply that the TRU deal was falling apart. So, if I wanted any of the figures I’d been waiting for, I’d probably need to just buy them online. Needing to get my toy fix, I crumbled and ordered Jail Cell Joker from the MattyCollector site. After shipping, that fucker cost $23! I didn’t care, though, as I finally had a new toy. That feeling subsided, however, when he arrived in the form of the most boring figure I’ve seen in some time. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a good likeness, but it just sits there. No special features, and the articulation isn’t as great as that of others in the line.

Fast forward to last week. A Mattel blog post reported that the web-only Dark Knight figures would be showing up in TRU stores “in the near future”. This prompted blog comments from collectors reporting that they’d already seen them in their local TRU stores. Ya see, Mattel didn’t want to publicize this because they wanted to sell them for $23 before you realized you could get them in stores for about half that price. Those online collectors were reporting that TRU’s price for the figures was roughly $12.99 each. But the plot thickens: remember how I told you the first 2 series had gone to clearance after the movie hype passed? Well, the packaging of the new figures is exactly like that of the old. So, many lazy TRU employees had just thrown them up on the clearance pegs for $4.98, not realizing that this was different product. So, if you got to a register and it rang up as $12.99, you could just point out the sign and they’d adjust the price.

Here’s my thought on this: is the tactic wrong? Yes, because you know the real price. That said, if TRU isnt dilligent enough to catch this, it’s not the consumer’s fault. By law, if there are multiples on the peg, they have to honor that price. I feel like a TRU employee in the boys dept should notice something odd about them receiving product for a line that pretty much trickled off 2 years ago. I worked that department for 10 years, so it’s not like I’m speaking out of class. The products look the same, they’re hung on clearance pegs and, most importantly, there’s NO new peg tag reflecting the new price. If a different price is not indicated where they hang, how is the consumer to know?

So, how does this all apply to me? Well, yesterday, I went into a TRU and pulled off this trick. There were no pegs indicating a new price, and the price scanner system was down. So, I honestly didn’t know the price until I got to the register (after all, $12.99 was just the average price being reported online). I told them about the shelf pegs, and they did the price adjustment. So, I got 2 new figures for a total of about $11. The saddest thing is that they weren’t even figures I really wanted. It was a weird Scarecrow variant and a Batman with glow-in-the-dark eyes. I can make all kinds of excuses, but I basically wanted a deal and I was tired of being fucked over by The Man. I mean, Matty Collector put the same “Night Vision Batman” for sale on their site at noon yesterday for, you guessed it, $23 (including shipping). So, Mattel was trying to rip me off by charging twice retail, while TRU’s negligence allowed me to buy what is, really, a dead toy line, at a great price. My problem, though, is I got cocky. I didn’t listen to The Gambler, and I counted my money before the dealing was done.

You see, today, I had lunch with my friend “Special Forces” (we call him that because he was in charge of the storeroom at TRU, and when it was holiday season, he got to wear a special black uniform so customers wouldn’t ask him questions). He had acquired a DCUC Deadman figure for me, so I took him to lunch to thank him. When we were done, he informed me that TRU had gotten a truck last night, so there was a chance they might’ve gotten the Harvey Dent figure I’d been wanting.

We get to the store, and all they have are a shitload of the older figures, on clearance for $4.98. After looking all through the aisles, we stumbled upon 3 of the new figures. I had them all, but he needed 2 of them. Now, since my episode yesterday, I now know that these things scan as $12.99. That said (and I checked), there was NO shelf tag indicating the new figures. So, as far as TRU’s shelves were concerned, it was a $4.98 figure. So, SF is all nervous, ’cause he used to work at this particular store, plus he knew he probably couldn’t use his discount card because he’d have to identify himself as an employee, which would require a manager. To make matters worse, the manager on duty was actually a guy we both used to work for at another store. When I noticed this, I said “Crap, we can’t do it because Paul’s here.” Remember that. I didn’t yell it or anything. Just said it. It’s going to be important later.

Instead of going to customer service, we go to the R-Zone, which is the electronics dept. I ask the chick in there if she can ring us up, and she begrudgingly agrees. Since SF’s nervous, and I didn’t really care about $10 (yup, I’m a balla!), I told him I’d take care of it. She scans the figures, at which point I do the whole, “The sign said these were $4.98.” Of course, she returns with “Well, I’ll have to see the sign.” I follow with a “And I’ll be glad to show it to you.” We get to the aisle, and it’s not like she can find anything to the contrary, try as she might. I know how this works. I’ve been in her role before. Still, there’s nothing she can do. She goes back to the register and then decides she has to look up something. She runs over to customer service, while I’m running my mouth to SF about how you’ve got to take back from the system sometimes. The rantings of a failed revolutionary. So, she comes back, and it all falls apart.

First off, she says that the clearance price is just for Scarecrow. I say that it’s not, and that the signs make no indication of this. Then, she says, “You knew this, which is why you said ‘We can’t do it because Paul’s here.’ Yeah, you didn’t think I heard that. You also didn’t know that I’m a supervisor.” Well, bitch got me there. No, I didn’t know she was a supervisor. I still held on to the argument that it’s not my fault that they didn’t retag properly, and that they were hanging with all the others. She goes through the whole “somebody must’ve put them in the wrong place”, which still isn’t my fault, but I was still pretty much caught because she’d heard the Paul comment. So, I played it off and followed through with the transaction. However, what was originally gonna be an $11 transaction was now (and correctly so) a $27 transaction. FUCK! Sure, I could’ve walked away, but I was already guilty, so I paid the woman. Special Forces got his figures, so he was happy. What pissed me off most, however, was how she took her damn time ringing me up once she felt vindicated. OK, I suck at bamboozling you, but just get me out of here, OK? Nah, she milked it. When it was done, I went over to Customer Service to talk to Paul. I knew I’d avoided him in the beginning, but I still felt I could argue to my advantage, especially concerning the lack of shelf tags. If nothing else, maybe he’d dispatch someone to retag the shelves at once, and I’d feel vindicated or something. Unfortunately, Paul was gone. Yup, he was there one minute, and gone the next. I thought that meant he was hanging out around the corner, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I walked away, tail between my legs, $27 poorer.

This isn’t Consumerist, so I’m not going to try to say what I did was right. I was merely trying to exploit a loophole in the system. However, I let greed and cockiness get the best of me, and my luck ran out. So, now they’re probably gonna look at me funny whenever I go in that store ’cause I’m that “guy who thought he was slick”. I hate those looks. I used to give them to the guys who’d pulled this stuff on me. But I guess that’s what this is really all about: I worked for TRU for 10 years, and there were countless times I was on the other end of this. Unfortunately, the law is that they have to honor the price, so they got away scott free. I guess I just wanted my corner of the sky. But, as you’ve read, I’m just not cut out for deceit, even concerning something as lame as action figure collecting. The way I see it, TRU just got from me today the money that they should’ve gotten yesterday. Everything balances out in the end, and I can’t beat the system when I try.

“Honey, why you callin’ me so late?”

I love Christmas, but I hate Christmas retail. Here’s an exchange I had at “The ‘R Us” the other day.

Old Man: Excuse, me…um…I’m looking for…umm…what is it called?

Me: *eyeing him with annoyed look on my face*

Old Man: *fumbles with phone* Let me just call…I can’t remember what that thing is called…Can you wait just one second for me?

Me: Well, actually, I REALLY need to go to the bathroom.

Old Man: Good! Me, too!

Me: Yeah, let’s not continue this there…

The sad thing is, had I not said that, I’m pretty sure he would have carried the conversation into the bathroom. He DID follow me, but i went into a stall. We had a comedic moment at the sink as we both needed to wash our hands. Exited said bathroom, and the conversation continued as if the urinary interlude had never occurred. And it was just as awkward as it sounds…

“Welcome to the layer cake, son.”

So, it’s been awhile. Not gonna talk about the main job yet, but I will say that I’ve gone back to Toys R Us for the holidays. Not sure if I’m going to stay on, but it’s certainly as surprising to me as it is to you. The other day, I was telling someone that I feel like an old, grizzled cop when I put on that uniform. The whole sense of, “You don’t know how many times I’ve looked in the mirror and said ‘Never Again!’.” But, as with any retail job, the crappiest part is the customers.

Back at my old TRU, it was pretty ghetto, and that sucked. But this TRU is in Columbia, known for is affluence. For those of you who read “Gatsby”, it’s very “new money”. But I’ll go a step further than that. It’s essentially White trash who have somehow come into money. You know, contractors who charge too much for work, or the final season of Roseanne where they won the lottery. Butterface trophy wives of Redskins and the lot. Yeah, by switching stores, I went from hair weaves to Nascar quicker than I thought humanly possible.

Well, every Christmas, regardless of store or location, I have the same archnemesis: the Black mother. And why is she my nemesis? Well, she’s upset because she can’t find the Black version of the hottest toy of the season. Be it Amazing Amanda, Cabbage Patch, or even Holiday Barbie, she wants the Black doll. Now, what Mrs. Black Mother doesn’t seem to understand is that she is chasing the niche of a niche. Not only does she want the hot toy, but she wants a variant of the hot toy. I’m sorry, sweetie, but they don’t allocate them equally.

Now, I can see her position, but I really just don’t care. Yes, I know that’s callous. And maybe my views will change if I have daughters. Sure, these women want their children to have toys that represent them. A toy to help solidify their sense of identity. Something to instill racial pride. And this is all admirable. This is also all bullshit.

Toys only have that effect if you reinforce it. If you point out to a child that this doll is different, and make that your sole focus, then they will manifest that and you have achieved your goal of racializing “play”. But if you just give them a toy, and let them sort it out, it ain’t that deep. IF the child asks, “Mommy, why doesn’t this doll have hair like me?” then you might even have the chance to establish a dialogue as to people’s differences. But just because you get Tashiba a white Barbie, it doesn’t mean that she’s gonna go out and join the Republican party and buy a Volvo.

I always hate these mothers because they take it out on ME. Like I was the one who ordered all of the White dolls. The other day, I told a chick to write a letter if she was so mad. What I’d love to see, though, is a White parent ask for a White doll of a predominantly Black line. I’d love for some soccer mom to come in and ask, “Do you have any…White Bratz?”(editor’s note: these DO exist, but people never really ask for them)

The funny thing to me, though, is the way that these encounters always play out. First of all, I will watch these mothers walk past several White employees just to get to me. And even after they’ve gone out of their way to find “a black guy”, a “brotha” a safe harbor of sorts, they still can’t be forthcoming with me. So, that’s when I have some fun.

They’ll approach me and ask, “Where are the Barbie’s?” And of course, this is while we’re IN the freakin’ Barbie aisle!

“Umm..they’re all around you, ma’am.”

And that’s when she’ll reply, “No, the other Barbies. You ain’t got no other dolls?”

Loving where this is going, I’ll ask, “Well, what kind of other dolls are you talking about?”

And this is the kicker, and they ALL do this, she’ll ask, “You ain’t got no ***** dolls?” Now, let me explain here. This is when she says “Black”, but she doesn’t actually say it. She mouths it. It’s kinda like those Cingular commercials about the dropped calls. As if to say that we can’t let The Man hear about our plaything plotting.

And at this point, I have a myriad of responses, ranging from the polite: “No, ma’am. Those are always the first to go.” to the obnoxious: “No ma’am, it seems that the toy companies just don’t really like Black people.” Yes, I HAVE said that. And I lived to tell about it.

At this point, regardless of what I say or how I say it, she erupts with, “I don’t want no White doll! Why they think I want a white doll?” And if I’m lucky, this tirade ends with a “Where the Bratz at?”

Now, don’t get me started on Bratz. Sure, these women are upset that there aren’t enough Black Barbie’s, but I feel it is a FAR worse crime to fill that hole with a Bratz doll. Sure, that shit is popular, but it’s the minstrel show of toys. If you’re afraid of toys giving your child a poor self image, then you sure as Hell shouldn’t be bying them Bratz. I mean, the name alone. It’s like they’re trying to reclaim the term or something. A “brat” is a BAD thing. Not something endearing. And there’s a reason there are no Black people in anime. You know why? Because they’d look like fucking Bratz! God, those dolls are HIDEOUS! And ignorant.

The other night, I saw a talking Bratz doll on the shelf, and just to test a theory, I pressed the button. Do you know what that plastic bitch said to me?

“Like, have you ever had a bad hair day?”

Huh? I HATE those trifling things, but they’re just as popular as ever. But the only people who buy them are ghetto Black people and ashamed White people. It’s true. I actually enjoy watching the disparity. As I said before, A Black family will come in, all, “Where the Bratz at?” And Woo! You get them to that aisle, and they can’t spend that welfare check quickly enough. But the White families approach me just like the Black mom looking for Barbie. I’ll get a White women who kinda looks down, or can’t really make eye contact. She’ll sheepishly ask to be pointed in the direction of the Bratz stuff. Yesterday, I had a dad who just looked exhausted. He said that their daughter was crazy about the stuff and she made them redo her bedroom in Bratz decor. First off, only a White guy would say “Our daughter made us do so-and-so.” And he looked so forlon and ashamed. All I could muster was a “I’m so sorry for you. Hopefully, she’ll grow out of that phase soon.”

So, in closing, if you want a Black doll, do the talking with your wallet. Don’t buy White Barbie, but don’t buy Bratz either. Hold out until something comes along to your liking, but don’t just jump on the first ethnic thing to come along. Buying your kid a Bratz doll is far more degrading than having to watch her as she combs Barbie’s long, blonde hair. And if you’re THAT mad about it, write a letter. Hell, start your own toy company. Maybe Michael Richards will even donate some of his Seinfeld money to help you get started (Man, that reference is gonna be SO dated when I re-read this in a year!). But don’t shoot the messenger because I actually know where the Black doll bodies are buried.

I don’t even know what that means, but I felt the need to go out on a strong note. And I think this exposition just killed any attempt at that. Seacrest, out!

“I was gonna have sex with you, and then we were gonna watch Batman. Your loss!”

So, my mother and I like to frequent this huge thrift store in the area (Unique Bazaar). We usually call it “The Spanish Store”, mainly due to its clientele and the fact that everything is written in Spanish. Anyway, it’s always bad news when we go because we end buying a bunch of crap that we don’t need.

Well, yesterday, I was in the toy section and noticed something. You see, they bag up separate tiny toys into grab bags, in order to move the merchandise quickly. Well, a certain baggy of action figures caught my eye. In this particular bag, there was Wolverine, Professor X, Harry Potter, Professor Snape, and Neo.

At first, I thought, “Why would someone put these figures together? X-Men, Harry Potter , and The Matrix in one bag? That’s almost sci-fi blasphemy! But then I thought again, and realized that it was BRILLIANT!

Think about it. That would be the highest grossing movie of ALL TIME for INFINITY. They would have to print more money just to meet the demand. No movie would ever come close to breaking that box office. It would be the “Ken Jennings” of cinematic blockbusters. I almost fear that Hollywood would simply shut down after such a daring venture. I mean, not only would it signal that Hollywood had exhausted all ideas, but there also wouldn’t been any point. It would be the “Great American Novel” of Hollywood megahits. Whenever people would have brainstorming sessions, every idea would be shot down with a “Well, there’s no way it’s gonna be as good as “Wolvie & Harry’s Matrixy Adventure”. It would usher in the end of Hollywood. But Hollywood will have gone out with a bang.

I think what saddens me most is that this genius, who came up with the greatest idea of all time, will never be discovered because he/she works in this thrift store and might not even know English. I’m getting a Salieri Complex just thinking about it…

“A computer actually does real work. ‘Nigger technology’ lets dumb niggers talk to other dumb niggers about dumb nigger shit. Nothing important was ever typed with thumbs.”

As many rappers will attest, I’ve discovered that the only way to properly watch “Scarface” is while holding a gun.

A few weeks ago, I sat watching the movie, thinking to myself, “Something is missing in this equation.” I looked over and saw my Nerf N-strike pistol, complete with adjustable laser sight.

Well, I quickly palmed my firearm, and began to twirl it for the remainder of the film. And I must say that, for those 2.5 hours, all was right with the world.

“We have come to terms.”

So, I’m trying to find my “voice” again, so this isn’t really an official post. Anyway, I was getting sick of y’all leaving me “Why don’t you post yet?!” messages, so I figurd I’d throw you a bone.

While packing up to move recently, I found a few things that reminded me of a funny situation a few years ago. You see, we were on vacation in Alabama, and one day we happened into an old-time “five & dime”. This was the kind of place that sold you Coke in glass bottles, and actually refilled them if you brought them back. I mean, this place was straight out of the Andy Griffith Show. All that was missing was the lunch counter with the “no coloreds allowed” sign.

Anyway, I am always in the mood to spend some money, and I was about to have a field day in this place. I have this funny tendency to buy shit I neither want nor need; the point is to simply spend the money like it’s a shopping spree or something. Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to ‘Bama, but there ain’t much there worth spending money on. I was about 10, so I had every action figure that was popular at the time. There shouldn’t have been anything to impress me in this time capsule of a store. But that didn’t stop me.

I proceeded to buy a pack of those green army men. You know, the kind that were only played with by kids in the ’60s and the poor kids of today. But that was nothing compared to what else was in the bundle.

I had a wrist-mounted dart launcher, a bow & arrow set, and to top it off, four lone ranger masks in different colors. I was just a stupid kid who liked junk, so imagine my surprise when I got to the counter and the owner looked at me funny. “Oh, no,” I thought. “I’m about to be the next Emmitt Till.” He cocked his head, looked at me, and asked, “You ain’t about to get into no mischief, are you now?” I looked at the items on the counter, and it was like everything was suddenly crystal clear. What the Hell had I been thinking?! I was buying weapons and masks!

And to top it off, not only did I look like some kind of junior criminal, but I was a low-rent one at that. At an age when most kids would have bb guns and spray paint, my militia was shaping up to be something out of “Howdy Doody”.

I looked him in the eye, smiled, and gave him my most sincere, “Oh, no sir. Not at all.” He kind of gave me another once over, and proceeded to ring up the items.

My mother had watched the entire exchange, and when I was done, I noticed that she looked upset. I thought she was on my side, and I was thinking, “That guy just asked me that ’cause I was Black.” But no, she came off with the patented Black mom response: “Boy, why you gonna buy some fool stuff like that? You got enough junk!”

By that point, as you can figure, I didn’t even want the stuff anymore. I had succeeded in wasting the money, and in one person’s eyes I was a thug, while in another’s I was a fool. Not the best end to that standoff. Oh well…

I thought of that story ’cause I found that dart launcher the other day. It makes me laugh at how stupid the entire exchange was, but I also thought about how I probably couldn’t even get away with that today. I mean, back then, it was a simple shop owner, making sure I wasn’t gonna be spreading terror to the quiet burg of Tuscaloosa. But today, if I tried to buy such stuff, I might end up on some kind of list.

The thing I always think about, though, is why he thought I was going to do something bad. I mean, sure, I was a little fat kid, in Alabama, buying weapons and masks, but WHY did that have to be a bad thing? I could take the racial approach, but I feel there are so many levels to it that sadden me. I mean, maybe I was going to do something GOOD with those items. Or maybe I just wanted to play. I guess I’m kinda blown that we’re always quick to assume something bad, but we never even entertain the idea that something POSITIVE might be afoot. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, after all these years, I’m really sorry that I went back and robbed him…

“Whatchu gon’ do wit all dat breast?”

So, anyone who knows me knows I have a dirty mind. I see sex everywhere, and I should probably be in some kind of therapy for that. In any regard, tonight, I felt that my thoughts weren’t my own fault, but the fault of Fisher-Price.

Has anyone out there heard of “Rescue Heroes”? If not, they’re these super-deformed action figures made specifically for younger kids. Emerging from the post 9/11 Hero craze, they tend to focus on firemen, cops, and other emergency workers. Well, their names are usually puns, but tonight I realized something else: they’ve all got porn star names.

I know you’re thinking, “Sure, Will….porn star names…”, but it’s true. These things could be passed off as something innocent, but I just know that the designers at Fisher-Price are laughing their asses off that they actually snuck these things into stores. I actually kinda know the director of market research, and I’m half tempted to e-mail him and ask him directly.

Think I’m crazy? Allow me to list the current assortment of “Rescue Heroes”. And no, I did not make up any of these; I only wish I were that gifted:

-Rex Steel
-Rock Miner
-Perry Chute
-Cole Burns
-Seymour Wilde
-C.D. Moon
-Holden Breath
-Jack Hammer
-Rivet (I kid you not!)
-Val Cano
-Telly Photo
-Clamp Down (I swear!)
-Back Hoe (I swear it again!)
-Swinger (even that one surprised me!)
-Kenny Ride (the Black guy)
-Warren Waters
-Captain Cuffs (kinky!)
-Ariel Flyer
-Sandy Beach
-Moe Zambeek (surprisingly NOT a Black guy; still has a porno ‘stache, though)

But get this, there’s also a suped-up line of figures, called “The Dual Tool Team”! These include:

-Dual Tool Team: Rip Rockefeller
-Dual Tool Team: Gil Gripper
-Dual Tool Team: Rocky Canyon

and the main vehicle for this line is the “2-in-1 Ultra Light Vehicle”

But my Personal Favorite has to be “Force of Nature”, Roger Houston

So, there ya have it. Bratz Dollz make your daughters grow up to be trendy, superficial bitches, while Rescue Heroes start your sons off on the road to the wonderful world of skin flicks. Man, if they ever merge the Bratz line with the Rescue Heroes, I SWEAR teen pregnancy rates will skyrocket. And we’ll only have Fisher-Price to blame…

“Don’t be fooled by my little green car and my White girl hair!”

Yay for stealing wifi from the neighbors! Nothing sounds sweeter than “free”!

So, here’s a story that happened to me on “Black Friday”. I was working Toys R Us, and I notice this 30 yr-old goth looking chick. Now, first off, if you’re 30 and STILL a goth, something’s wrong with you. You should’ve grown out of that shit by then. But I digress.

She’s looking like she just walked out of Hot Topic, with her parachute-strappy black pants and her black, screen printed tee. Well, I look closely to see what’s on that shirt, and in large, red letters, it says “MASTURBATION ROCKS”. And the back says, “BDSM”.

Now, keep in mind, this is Toys R Us, the day after Thanksgiving. I mean, come on! I can only imagine how many minivan conversations took place that night, beginning with, “Mommy, what’s mastur…masturba…what’s that word, Mommy?” I know there’s freedom of speech and all that, but it seemed like a cry for attention. I felt like we were supposed to say something, so she could go all “1st amendment” on us. I was gonna say something like, “Nice shirt”, but I didn’t want to play into it.

But she really wanted attention. Kept asking me questions about shit she knew we didn’t have. But I guess I didn’t give her what she was looking for, because I walked away, leaving her frowning and empty-handed.

We all had a good laugh at her expense when she left. And we thought that would be the end of it. Until she came in again the next morning. But no, she wasn’t wearing the shirt again. This time, she wanted to show off the rack that had been under the shirt, but that’s another story…

“Nobody wants a ‘Charlie in the Box’.”

So, I recently returned to my former part-time work at Toys “R” Us. Why? Because I need the money. But I felt like a sell-out going back, seeing as how I swore I never would. Anyways, life’s a ‘yatch sometimes. That’s not what this post is about. This post is about the fact that TRU’s radio has switched over to non-stop Christmas music and it makes me wanna blow my brains out.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas music. I was almost a Christmas baby. But I can’t deal with the music continuously. Why? Because they’re all the same song. In all honesty, there hasn’t been a Christmas song to make a dent in recent pop culture since Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You”. Prior to that, it was all that jazz about Grandma and the reindeer. My point is that the Christmas music industry is a big pissing contest. A sense of “Who can alter ‘O Holy Night’ the most?” And most Christmas songs are like the National Anthem: Yeah, it’s your time to shine, but the more you mess with it, the worse it’s going to sound.

It all goes back to “The Christmas Song”. I want to bring up a little reverse affirmitive action here. Everyone talks about Elvis stealing music from Blacks, but we did it, too. “The Christmas Song” is a Mel Torme song, but most people don’t realize it since you can’t scratch your balls in December without it sounding like Nat King Cole singing that blasted ditty.

It just comes down to the realization that “Christmas song” and “originality” can never be used in the same sentence. They are all the same. So, unless you’ve got an original song, I don’t wanna hear it. Something about Santa and Jesus saving the world from Nazi aliens on Christmas Eve. Now, THAT’s original.