thrifty cent

That's Ent-ertainment!

2011-12-01T19:43:00.000-08:00

Sometimes at the thrift, you just say to yourself, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?" And this is one of those times.

This creepy, some might even say terrifying, pot (vase? let's just call it a vessel) is hard for me to figure out. It's a conunundrim wrapped in a riddle, topped with a fern hat, and then tied up in a leaf mask. Possibly it is some internationally beloved character from a movie or cartoon that I'm not even remotely familiar with. Or it might be...an ENT from "Lord of the Rings"!

Here it is in its natural state, on the bric-a-brac shelf:

I think this was kinda pricey, thrift-speaking. Like $6.99 or something. Found at Thrift Land in Austin, Texas. Was not purchased, because I am not quite that much of a nerd.

If it had been a Harry Potter butterbeer mug, well, that would've been a different story...

Mugs, Juggs, and Golf Clubs

2011-10-25T16:48:00.000-07:00

Thrifty Cent has been a busy bee, ya'll. It's the Halloween season, you see, and that means one thing: thrift mania. So instead of individual posts, here is a grab bag of weird/unusual crapola that caught the eye of your intrepid thrifter.

First up, we have Heartless Bitch mugs:

These were at a pretty interesting estate sale. The house belonged to a couple, and the husband was selling everything after the death of his wife, who was apparently a graphic designer who worked under the name "Gryphon Industries," and was responsible for some iconic Austin- and Texas-related late '70s-era graphics, such as "Texas Secede," and "Austin" with a heart over the i from 1977:

I had seen the Austin and Secede stuff many times, and it was pretty neat to see the original silk screens leaning against the back door of the house, plus the woman's drafting table and miscellaneous designs for local ads (Wheatsville, etc). But the "Heartless Bitch" mugs were not familiar to me. They had around 30 of them lined up in the kitchen. Ironic feminist commentary? Not sure.

Mugs not purchased, because what am I going to do with 30 Heartless Bitch mugs, besides give them out as party favors? And they were not that cheap...hmm. Maybe they are apropos after all!

Next, an empty box.

Yes, sometimes an empty box can be fascinating, at least to me. This one is for a "pocket size ski and pole carrier" called "Ski Lift." Somehow, though, the manufacturers managed to get some '80s-style hot sexiness into the packaging of this less-than-erotic product. Behold:

IT'S HOT. It says so right on the box! See how hot that ski pole carrier is? Hotty hot HOT.

Found, empty, at the Goodwill Outlet. Not purchased, due to extreme hotness.

Speaking of hot, what could be hotter than a set of golf clubs? How about a Hooters Brand set of golf clubs, eh?

Yes, apparently Hooters is not just your go-to place for family-friendly sizzling hot wings and buoyant young bazooms, but is also the purveyor of the world's classiest golf clubs. Is there anything they can't do?

Found at Goodwill Outlet, not purchased, because I don't golf and I do respect myself. Was immediately snatched up by a portly man to my right and his slightly beleaguered-looking ladyfriend.

Next we have a can of Elvira spray-on hair dye!

It's dated 1986, and the color is "Daring Dazzle." Who knew Elvira had a line of hair dye? Despite my having no earthly need for this item, which is probably an environmental disaster waiting to happen, purchased at the Goodwill Outlet for approximately .39.

And finally, the kind of thing that cracks me up because it so from another time. It's a Trini Lopez 45 RPM record that was given away with packs of Fresca back in the 1960s. Front:

And back:

I like that the Fresca blizzard is blowing right over Trini and his galpals on the front of the record, which features, naturally, "The Blizzard Song." You may not know this about Thrifty Cent, but if there's two things she loves its Fresca and synergy!

Purchased at, you guessed it, the Goodwill Outlet, for approximately .50.

Soul Sister!

2011-10-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm not going to make too much fun of this amazing book I found because now that I've actually read some of it I can tell it was written with the absolute best of intentions by a progressive thinker who only wanted a dramatic and effective way to report on the suffering and privations of African-Americans.

HOWEVER.

The entire conceit of Grace Halsell's 1969 book, Soul Sister, is so amazingly and horrifyingly outdated as to be cringe-inducing. You see, Ms. Halsell decided to take a tip from 1959's Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin and go undercover. By using "pills and exposure to the sun," plus a wig and contact lenses, Halsell disguised herself, if you get my drift, to see how African American women were treated in the U.S. The subtitle of the book is "The Journal of a white woman who turned herself black and went to live and work in Harlem and Mississippi."

Like I said, the intent is clearly to help and do good. But the cover. Oy vey, the cover! First let's look at Grace Halsell sans black face on the back of the book:

Look how happy she is! So carefree! Not a trouble in the world! White!

Now let's look at her in full Soul Sister mode:

Eek! Oh, crap! Life is horrible! Black!

Oh, Grace. Grace, Grace, GRACE. I know you're just trying to show the privations, the misery, the injustice that 1969 America inflicted on your fellow Soul Sisters. But that expression on your face is KILLING ME. In fact I'm making that same face right now, looking at you!

You can read all about Grace Halsell and her many good works in her NY Times obituary. She was a daughter of Fort Worth, Texas, a war reporter, LBJ speech writer, and the author of many books with a progressive bent, including one about the plight of Native Americans and another about Mexican immigrants trying to cross the border. She seems like a first-class writer, crusader, and lady. I can only hope the other books were not experiments in brown face.

Soul Sister was found at the Goodwill Outlet (where else?), Austin, TX. About a buck. But priceless, really.

The Stuff Of Nightmares (In Two Parts)

2011-10-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

Just in time for Halloween, scary thrift!

Part One. EXHIBIT A:

This is a men's tie, with an ostensibly festive "Stripper Popping Out of a Birthday Cake" theme. But then you take a closer look at the lady in question, and besides having Pia Zadora's head, which is frightening enough, she is alarmingly muscular for a stripper and kind of looks likes she would rather bite your head off than wish you a happy birthday and has been drawn in a style somewhere between "The Ambiguously Gay Duo" and a vintage gay porn magazine. Found at the Goodwill Outlet, Austin, TX, aka "The Bins," price $1.39 per pound, so practically free because it weighed almost nothing:

Part Two. EXHIBIT B:

Hold onto your hats. This is, as far as a non-expert like me can ascertain, a ceramic object that takes the form of a two-headed pig, wearing bow ties and frilly purple panties. Let me repeat: THIS IS ONE CERAMIC PIG THING, NOT TWO. The larger conjoined twin pig is winking in a jaunty manner, while her less fortunate brother has lost the paint off one of his eyes, although he seems fine with it. Was not purchased, for fear of never sleeping again. Photo taken in situ at the Goodwill Outlet:

Overheard At The Thrift

2011-01-05T15:40:00.001-08:00

Welcome back, reader! Often in the course of le thrifte, I hear and/or see all kinds of strange, startling human behavior.

A few days ago in Albuquerque, for instance, I was standing in line and overheard the following coversation between the woman in front of me and the thrift staff about a small pile of clothes behind the counter:

WOMAN: "What's the deal with that hooded sweatshirt there?"
STAFF: "Oh, that man, you know, that one earlier? The one in the...uh...incident? It was his."
WOMAN: "Well, how much is it?"
STAFF: "Uh, the man was bleeding all over it."
WOMAN: "Yeah, but how much do you want for it?"
STAFF: "Uhhhh...."

And SCENE.

I Bought A Hobbit Denim Jumpsuit--Twice!

2008-03-18T15:03:00.001-07:00

Last week I was at the Goodwill Blue Hanger, aka the Austin version of "The Bins," and came upon an awesome 1970s men's denim jumpsuit. I turned it over and gasped with joy when I saw that embroidered on the back was the one word that never fails to bring delight to my heart: "HOBBIT." Score!

When I got home I pulled the Hobbit jumpsuit out of the bag to look at it again; then I noticed for the first time that there was a price tag on the sleeve. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a tag from MY OWN STORE! I carbon-dated the tag to about 12 years ago. So not only did I find this item at a thrift store and sell it, but I found it again at another thrift store a dozen years later! What are the odds? And who would have thought I could forget such an amazing item?

Below you may behold the splendors of The Hobbit in all its glory. It is modeled with perhaps a bit too much gusto by Friend of Thrifty Cent Toby K.. Enjoy!

Work Is The Curse Of The Drinking Class, Part One

2008-01-15T15:19:00.001-08:00

Like most people of a certain age and temperament, ie, nearing middle age and rummy, I have accumulated a fair amount of barware over the years--vintage cocktail shakers, tiki mugs, kooky stirrers, ice buckets, shot glasses, etc. But I'm always on the lookout for odd or unusual or funny objet to add to my collection, and I'm especially fond of coasters, mainly because they are often of the naughty, jokey, wink-wink, yuk-yuk variety.

Here are some coasters--technically they are napkins, but were meant to be used as party coasters--that I found at the best estate sale/auction I've ever been to, in Kerrville, TX. They were part of a group of paper products in a shoe box that I waited hours to bid on; I believe I got the whole box for $10.

They are called "Nap-Grins" and it's hard to see in the photos, but each one has a little plastic or felt charm attached to it for added specialness. They are the Faberge Egg, the Mona Lisa, the Sex Pistols 8-track, of my collection. (Apologies for the blurriness of some of the images; I have not yet mastered the art of digital photography of tiny print on vintage crapola just yet...)

What is especially awesome about these--besides the naughty Borscht Belt humor, of course--is that they are made of paper, and so it is that much more miraculous that they have survived intact for so many years (the box is dated 1951). I really want to get them framed and hang 'em above my bar area, because a) j'adore them so, and b) I am afraid that I will destroy them. It wouldn't be the first time that something that has made it down through the decades has been ruined after five minutes in my possession, believe you me.

Oh, and they came with a matching set of "Tray Grins," little cardboard nutbowls or ashtrays:

Oh, Nap-Grins and Tray-Grins, how I love thee!

PART TWO of coaster-a-rama coming soon...

Disco Fiedler!

2008-01-07T20:00:00.001-08:00

I found a cassette tape of this recording a while back; I tried to take a picture of it, but I did such a crappy job that I used an image I found on the ole Interwebs instead...You'll get the jist:

I reaaaally love this. For those not in the know, Arthur Fiedler was the conductor of the Boston Pops Symphony for years and years, and apparently he did a number of novelty recordings with the orchestra, including Fiedler On The Roof. Here's the track listing from Saturday Night Fiedler:

Side A
Saturday Night Fever Medley 18:47
a. Stayin' Alive
b. Night Fever
c. Manhattan Skyline
d. Night on Disco Mountain
e. Disco Inferno

Side B
Bachamania 11:32
Based on Toccata and Fugue in "D" Minor and air for the "G" string

As you can see, the first side has orchestral versions of disco songs, medley style, while the second side is a disco version of classical music. Awesome!

Check out this great site, which has some fun info about these records, as well as a couple of mp3's from Saturday Night Fiedler you can listen to and giggle about.

Found at the Austin Goodwill Outlet, aka "The Bins," for $.49.

Oh, Bonny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes Are Calling

2008-01-07T14:54:00.000-08:00

Today's thrift find is delightful liquor dispenser called the "Bonny Boy":

Yes, this charming decanter dispenses booze through a little boy's pee-pee. Swank!

I spied this item at The Bins in San Antonio (see previous post for description of The Bins) in some man's cart. I was green with envy, of course. I watched him through slitted eyes as he paraded the Bonny Boy around, taunting me with his score. I clenched my fists in helpless outrage. But then, just as he was about to seal the deal and buy the damn thing, I saw him move away from the cash register. I edged closer to spy. He went up to a random lady customer and said, "I don't think this thing works! Do you want it?" She took one look and demurred. So he tossed it into a nearby bin and I swooped in. Mine, all mine, at last!

I was afraid it would be obviously disfigured, but no, it was just the battery mechanism that was broken, and I thought maybe it would be possible to repair. And even if it isn't, I just like the way it looks. Don't you? It's so classy!

Price: $.49.

Send In Your Thrift Scores!

2008-01-06T16:14:00.000-08:00

This is just a wee note to let all the Thrifty Cent readers (I love you both!) know that I'd love to receive submissions. Because a) I love seeing other people's crap--I mean treasures, and b) I'm quite lazy.

If you've got something unusual and awesome or just plain odd that you want to share with the world, please send in a photo and a brief description of where/when you found it and how much it cost. My only rule is that that the item had to be purchased at a thrift store, garage/yard sale or the like--ie, not an antique/vintage shop or eBay. I don't mind if you've altered or embellished the thing as long as you point out what you did.

My email is over yonder to the right--now get thee to a thriftery!

Gotta Keep 'Em Separated

2008-01-05T11:24:00.000-08:00

Ewww. Sorry for that title! Sometimes I just can't help myself. Hee hee!

Anyway, today's find was purchased in Austin, TX for a little more than I usually pay for these types of things, but as it was a gift, I went over my budget a bit. I think it was $6.99. Whoa! I know, I'm cheap when it comes to thrift scores, but stupid Thrift Town, man! Always marking up the "collectibles." Harrumph! Anyway, behold:

Since the only item that I would have any use for is a Lean Cuisine freezer separator, I bought this as a Christmas present for Friend of Thrifty Cent Rebekah M., who is quite the accomplished cook. I thought she could use this handy fat-n-lean gravy separator, which can also double as a spoon rest.

Mainly though, I liked the drawings of meat.

Be My Friend--While You Still Can

2008-01-04T15:44:00.001-08:00

I found the above decorative plate yesterday here in Austin. On the back it reads:

"Be My Friend"

First issue in a series entitled "My Memories" by Mary Vickers. Made in England in Wedgewood Queen's Ware.

This is plate number 3037A in an edition limited to, and permanently closed at the end of the prescribed 100 day firing period in the year of 1981.

Hmmm...odd. First of all, this seems so much more late 1960s/early 1970s Creepy Kid than its actual 1981 creation date. I guess this is just one more example of the fact that the look and trends of one decade don't magically disappear with the advent of another.

Also, it seems to me that Mary Vickers' memories of childhood are tainted somewhat by mental illness. Doesn't it look like the one kid is strangling the life out of the other?

Welcome Back, Thrifter!

2008-01-02T13:43:00.000-08:00

Well, hello, you! Fancy seeing you here. Come here often? Ha! Me either!

Yes, I KNOW, it's been nigh on a year and a half since I last posted on this blog, but one of my New Year's resolutions is to update my Blog Empire more often, and since I got a new camera, Thrifty Cent will be much easier for me to maintain. Huzzah!

Because I have been so very remiss in my duties I have quite a backlog of fun-n-festive oddities that have accumulated over the past months. If you have been to my house, well, you've seen this crap. Sorry. But for the rest of you, enjoy!

First up, another addition to my Woodland Creatures collection:

I thrifted this in San Antonio, Texas a few months ago. It speaks to me. I especially like his chubby cheeks and the relish with which he caresses his nut. And check out those fingers! I call this one "Lil' Nutlover." Price: $2.99.

Next we have one of my favorite possessions. In a fire I would grab my dog, my passport, and this:

It really encapsulates all that is right and wonderful in the world of Thrift. I particularly enjoy the fact that on the back it says "Souvenir of New Hampshire." Because really, what says "New Hampshire" better than a cat petting a unicorn? Thrifted in Austin, TX. Price: $1.99.

This next one has a a little back story attached to it. My mom and I were in San Antonio at the Junior League Thrift Shoppe, or what we always refer to as "The Rich Lady Thrift," and we saw a bunch of portraits like this one hanging on the wall. There were about 15 of them, all really cool, all of different people and families perhaps from a portrait painter who had died or gone out of business. It being Rich Lady Thrift, they were pricey--some were upwards of $100. Still, we coveted them, as is our wont. Then lo and behold we were back in S.A. a few weeks later at the Goodwill Outlet, or what we always refer to as "The Bins," which is the place where all the crapola that either doesn't sell at the Goodwill stores or is too junky or for other unknown reasons is thrown into large troughs for people like me to paw through, and there she was:

"Our Founder."

It was definitely a work by the same portraitist we'd seen at Rich Lady, but at The Bins the price was more in our range: $3.00. I snagged it and put it up in my house...I like to imagine that this is my elderly landlady, whom I've never met.

This next piece was a gift, yes, but a thrifted gift, so it's ok, and it's my blog anyway, so there! Friend of Thrifty Cent Lori J. gave me this lamp for my birthday last year:

She knew how much I love all things owl-related. I consider owls to be a classic, timeless motif, like unicorns and moose. She got this at the St. Vincent De Paul thrift on South Congress Blvd. in A-town, for $9.99, I think. The bejeweled shade adds just the right amount of New Orleans whorehouse charm. Thanks, Lori!

This plate is one of my best treasures:

I got it at a thrift in the Texas Hill Country town of Kerrville, where they have developed mobile home retirement living into a fine art, let me tell you. I can think of worse fates than ending up in a Winnebago on the banks of the Guadalupe River, whiling away the hours going to awesome garage sales and old lady thrifts, perhaps doing some ceramics and eating a meal or ten at Luby's Cafeteria. Anyway, this gem was under a dollar, yet is priceless to me. Also, my mom and her husband now own an Air Stream trailer and although I gave them the coaster version of this plate (which I found later), I'm still not generous or kind-hearted enough to pass this along to my nearest and dearest, no matter how much they may beg. That's just how I roll.

I thought at first that this next objet was a purse or even a twee hat, but it finally dawned (on someone else) that in fact it is a tissue box cover:

This is the kind of find that fills my heart with joy. The idea that so much time went into making something so ridiculous, well, I just get all verklempt thinking about it. It adds a festive touch to the room, I think. Found in the Rio Grande Valley for 29 cents.

OK, the next one is a bit of a cheat. It is both a thrift find and a re-worked piece. The painting, found in San Antonio for five bucks or so, is of some kind of Louisiana swamp and it immediately suggested to me the planetary home of a certain sage-like Muppet in a galaxy far, far away, and I forced Friend of Thrifty Cent Chepo P. to make my vision a reality:

Yes, it's "Yoda On Dagoba." Profoundly satifsfying on many levels. Sharpie on oil painting, 2006.

I have a soft spot for olden-timey kids' books, and this one caught my eye last month:

It speaks of a sweet, bucolic life that has been totally and completely wiped out of our culture. Check out some of the images from inside, like this one of a milk man. Imagine! Milk! Delivered by a man! To your home!

This picture is kinda blurry, but the words are like poetry:

Here's another children's book that struck my fancy:

I really like the back cover, too:

It appears to be a little Native American girl literally glowing with delight over her embrace of capitalism. But maybe I'm "reading" too much "meaning" from this image?

OK, that's it for now. I'm off to the thrift!

Nothing Makes A Better Gift Than A Dead E.T.

2006-08-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

This is, as you may have already figured out, a statue of "E.T." It appears to be some kind of ceramic craft project, the kind that results from going to a ceramic store and picking out the raw item (a mug that looks like a pair of jeans, R2-D2 cookie jar, etc) and then painting it and the place fires it in the kiln for you. How do I know so much about what goes on in ceramic stores? Because it was one of my favorite things to do as a child: Hang out for hours on end with old ladies and paint something I didn't actually create and drink Tab and maybe have some Nilla wafers or somesuch Elder Snack and then have the "denim mug" come back all shiny and bad ass, and then pick out something else and start all over. It was second in my heart only to standing in front of the plexiglass window in the bakery section of the grocery store and watching, slackjawed with wonder, the lady who decorated cakes with frosting flowers, which is still the career to which I most aspire.

Anyhoo, this little gem is especially great because for some reason the painter decided to make E.T. pale and white, perhaps in some kind of homage to the scene where he is hooked up to the government machines and is, in fact, dying. Why anyone would choose to commemorate that particular moment in the movie is beyond me, but it makes this ceramic piece 100 times more awesome in my (very special) book.

Cost: $1.99.

Corgimania!

2005-12-06T23:03:00.000-08:00

I don't remember where or when I found this thing, but I am constantly amazed by its very existence. It's a plaque with a decoupaged picture of a Welsh Pembroke Corgi:

Now, I know this is not all that thrilling--to the untrained eye--but I can assure you, o doubtful reader, that this is an amazing find. First of all, as a proud owner of a Corgi, I can tell you that Corgi Crapola is a relatively new niche in the ever-burgeoning berserk-dog-owner market. And this wooden relic looks to be at least 20 years old. I mean, does anyone actually decoupage as a hobby anymore? I did some in junior high and it was really, really dull. I mean the decoupaging itself. Not my finished decoupage product. That was pretty goddamned shiny.

Corgis have only very recently become a semi-sort-of-kinda well-known breed. They are primarily associated--if at all--with Queen Elizabeth, who has something like five gazillion Corgis, all of whom sleep on raised, heated beds in the drafty old castles Her Royal Majesty calls home. My own beloved Corgi, Bugsy, wishes that he, too, lived with the Queen, as he takes a dim view of my more plebian surroundings, let me tell you.

Some people may also be familiar with such delightful Corgi-abilia as artist and author Tasha Tudor's series of books (A Corgiville Christmas, Corgiville Fair, etc.) or the whole Titus Rules! phenomonen. (Well, it's a phoenomonem to me.)

Anyway, this intrepid Unknown Crafter was really on the cutting edge of pet ownership/pet aggrandizement when she made this wooden shrine to the noblest of all dog breeds. I tip my hat to you, o forebear of yesteryear. I tip my hat and say, "'Tis an honor to have bought this precious objet for less than one American dollar."

Showers of Blessings

2005-12-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

I have long been in love with the whole sordid Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker story, ever since I was a 'tween living in New Braunfels, Texas, watching PTL out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom. I was entranced by PTL, especially Tammy, who had all kinds of crazy shows on the network that had little or nothing to do with being a Christian, and everything to do with being Tammy Faye. There was a beauty show on which, I swear on a PTL bible, she plucked out what remained of her eyelashes because of some compulsion she had to pluck out all her facial hairs. She also confided to the audience about her weight problems and not being sexually attractive to Jim.That was some riveting television, I'm telling you! Riveting.

I was genuinely sad when they went off the air. Where else would I see a video tour designed to quell rumors that the Bakkers' dog lived in an air-conditioned dog house? Or that their bathroom fixtures were made of solid gold? Where else would I get to watch Jim Bakker using a ginormous "golden shovel" to heave great mountains of cash? Where else would I get to hear Tammy Faye sing and sing and sing her heart out? Or watch their sullen, chubby-cheeked future-runaway kids sulk and mumble? I mean, say what you will about their business practices, Jim and Tammy really knew how to entertain.

So I am always excited to find a piece of Bakkerphelia out there in Thriftland. This book, Showers of Blessings by Jim Bakker, is one recent find:

(Some day I will pry the Jim and Tammy Faye souvenir plate out of my mother's hands and take a photo of it for this blog, but I may have to slip her a Mickey first.) Showers of Blessings was published by PTL, naturally, in 1986. The focus of the book is--surprise!--giving money to PTL, but there are a few passages that deal with other aspects of Jim Bakker's theological stances:

For nearly ten years after the Wade vs. Rowe decision in 1973 to legalize abortion, much of the body of Christ was silent on this explosive issue. God convicted me that abortion was murder and I couldn't keep silent any longer. My verbal stand on abortion was costly, causing us to lose some of our most valuable TV affiliates and incurring wrath from government officials and others. But I had to do it to obey God.

Apparently, PTL did not spend a great deal of donated money on fact-checkers or editors, since Jim was convicted by God that Wade vs. Rowe was murder, and he paid a very high price for his crime. You'd think God might be convinced otherwise, but no. Now, that Roe v. Wade decision, well, that's a whole 'nother story!

The other 99.9% of the book is about giving. Giving money to P.T.L., which Jim sells like a pyramid scheme (and Heritage USA itself should have just been built in the shape of a giant pyramid, it would have been a lot simpler to understand). Jim really gives us the ole hard sell:

Begin to plant seed for a great harvest. Do it now. Now is the time for your blessing. God wills it. You can loose it and make it happen. Your life will never be the same!

There's a whole chapter of testimonial letters called "Financial Blessings," in which average, ordinary citizens like you and me write in to Jim and tell him how much money has come their way ever since they became "Lifetime Partners," or sent money to the "Victory Club," or bought PTL bibles. Here are a few samples:

Last month, I sent you a check for $65 as partial payment for the Victory Club. And, boy, did we ever need victory. That was all the money we had! Since it wasn't enough to pay our rent or utilities anyway, I decided to send it as seed for a miracle. Praise God, it happened! In the mail, we got the money to pay our rent and utilities and also to send the rest of the Victory Club. Then, this week, my husband got called back to wrok on a job!

I wanted to become a Lifetime Partner so much, but I didn't have the money. With my husband's okay, I borrowed the $1000 and joined and you know what? In a matter of days, that amount was mulitplied back to us by ten times for our children's education. Praise the Lord!

This fall, I pledged and gave PTL $100 for the beautiful Bible and $15 in a monthly pledge. Already, God has turned that $100 into $1500 in blessings and that $15 into $800. His blessings still haven't stopped coming.

What is so striking about these letters--besides the fact that so many of the writers have sent in their last penny during a time of severe financial hardship--is that they all view their pledges and donations as a kind of investment--they are not so much interested in what happened to the money they gave as they are determined that their "investment" will pay off in financial reward. God, I feel sorry for the people who thought that sending in their last $20 to Jim Bakker would help pay their medical bills or get their electricity turned back on...

OK, here's the bestest part of the whole book. I saved it for last because of its extreme awesomeness:

One of the most interesting interviws that Tammy has ever done was with Mr. T, the popular tv and Hollywood movie star. When Tammy asked Mr. T what was the key, the turning point, of success in his acting career, Mr. T replied, "I never dreamed of being an actor. I got picked for the part in "Rocky" out of 15,000 guys who auditioned. I believe I won the part because of God's blessings. The first money that I ever earned as an actor I gave to the church to feed the less fortunate in our community. I've been taught what the Bible says about giving so my blessing came back in they way I believed it would."

You may say, "Well, it's easy for Mr. T to give, but I can't afford to give." The reason Mr. T can now afford to give is because he began giving when he couldn't afford it either.

There you have it, folks. The Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker/Mr. T Experience in all its glory.

Praise the Lord!

Hallelujah! I'm A Bum!

2005-11-28T09:54:00.000-08:00

Today's thrift finds are grouped under the heading of "Quaint Communism." There are three treasures; the first is a record I just received yesterday from Friends of Thrifty Cent Tanya B. and Gil C. They found the record at an estate sale in Fort Worth over Thanksgiving and were kind enough to fork it over to moi. Now I really have something to be thankful for. Huzzah!

My new treasure is called "Songs of the Wobblies," and it is a collection of workers' ditties from the I.W.W., AKA The International Workers of the World, AKA The Wobblies.

The titles include timeless favorites such as "Hallelujah! I'm a Bum!," "The Commonwealth of Toil," "Dump the Bosses Off Your Back," and the one that rings ever-true today, "Boom Went The Boom."

They are all sung by Joe Glazer and Bill Friedland, and the record was released by Labor Arts of Detroit, MI, a label "devoted to collecting and presenting songs which are part of the history and tradition of the American labor movement." Other titles from Labor Arts include "Ballads for Sectarians," a collection of songs "lampooning the twists and turns of the Communist Party line," such as "Old Bolshevik's Song," "Unite for Unity," and "Little Joe the Rustler." I love it that they did parodies! Who says socialists don't have a sense of humor?

But all of this begs the question: What the hell was this record doing in Cowtown?

The next item is a slim pamphlet I picked up at a Goodwill in San Antonio, of all places. It is a Marxist glossary cunningly titled Marxist Glossary, and was published by the good ole Proletarian Publishers, of San Francisco, who also put out fave-raves like Trotskyism: Counter-Revolution In Disguise, Mastering Bolshevism, and Historia Del Partido Communista de la U.R.S.S..

The Marxist Glossary, by L. Harry Gould, was published in 1946. Gould's acknowledgments thank "the thousands of readers who ordered the Glossary even before it went to the printer!"

In his cheeky "By Way of A Preface," Gould takes umbrage with Webster's defintion of a "bureacrat" as "an official of a bureau; especially an official confirmed in a narrow and arbitray routine; a member of a bureaucracy" and counters that:

This definition...is only formal, or technical. Compare, now, with the Leninist explanation...which uncovers the root of bureacracy in the apparatus of administration needed by the exploiters in every State organ and government institution to serve their class interests against the exploited people.

Harry, stop! You are blowing my mind.

Not to belittle his intentions, mind you. It's just that agitprop stuff like this is so endearingly old-fashioned. You just don't hear enough people talking about "the exploiters" anymore these days. It's all terrorism, all the time...

The best part about this pamphlet is that the previous owner underlined--in red--meaningful passages. While I hate reading a used novel in which some pimply teenager has underlined every other word for his/her English class, I do enjoy finding things like this that have asterisks or notes in the margins, as it gives a little glimpse into a stranger's mind. Whoever purchased the Glossary underlined this:

The chronic under-payment of the workers and general tendency of capitalistic production to sink the average standard of wages to the minimum limit.

Chronic under-payment of the workers? Mimimum wages? What kind of crazy talk is this? Harry, you are muy loco!

Here's an interesting definition:

FEMINISM:

One of the various liberal movements associated with the expansion of capitalism in the 19th centurey, designed to secure social and legal equality for women, but in actual fact expressing the interests and concerns of the property-owning middle and upper-class women; hence, feminism can have no basis among working-class women.

Hmmmm. OK, here's another one:

PHILISTINE:

One who "believes in" and "hopes for" Socialism, but who trembles at the spectacle of class battles and collapses in the first test in struggle.

Whoo-hoo! Good times! They don't call it the Communist PARTY for nothing, eh?

Harry, Harry, you are bumming me out, man. It's all us against them, isn't it? And you can't even count on the "us" to come through. Lighten up! How about a rousing sing-along of "Hallelujah! I'm A Bum!" to bring a smile to the faces of the lumpen proletariat? Those Wobblies were so much more fun!

And finallly, the creme de la creme of my Commie Collection: "Class Struggle," the board game "to prepare for life in capitalist America--an educational game for kids from 8 to 80."

I got "Class Struggle"--complete with all the pieces and a steal at .29 cents--at the exact same Goodwill Outlet in San Antonio where I found The Marxist Glossary, although on separate occassions. Apparently, S.A. is a hotbed of lefty activities!

The totally awesome box features a photo of Karl Marx arm-wrestling with Nelson Rockefeller:

The rule book is a great read. It starts off with: "DON'T BE SCARED BY ALL THESE RULES" and continues:

"Class Struggle" reflects the real struggle between the classes in our society. THE OBJECT OF THE GAME IS TO WIN THE REVOLUTION...ULTIMATELY. Until then, classes--represented by different players--advance around the board, making and breaking alliances, and picking up strengths and weaknesses that determine the outcome of the elections and general strikes which occur along the way.

The game pits Workers against Capitalists, who are the two Major Classes. Farmers, Small Businesses, Professionals, and Students are the "minor" or "Allied Classes." However, only Workers or Capitalists can win the game, by picking up more assets than debits. The other classes win through their alliances.

Here's my favorite part of the game:

Indiviudal players cannot choose their class. In real life, ONE'S CLASS IS DETERMINED BY CHANCE, which usually means by the kind of family into which one is born. Also in our society, WOMEN AND BLACKS HAVE LESS CHANCE THAN WHITE MALES TO BECOME CAPITALISTS. This has nothing to do do with the human qualities of women and Blacks and everything to do with the unfair rules set by our society. Attempting to reflect these rules (and not by any means to justify them), "Class Struggle" calls for the following: Beginning with the lightest White male and ending with darkest Black female, everyone taked turns with the Genetic (or luck-of-birth) Die, the one with the symbols on it, to see who throws the Capitalist Class first. (If the people playing include a Black man and a white woman, the players themselves have to decide which one has the greater handicap in becoming a Capitalist.) After the Capitalists are chosen in this way, the players throw the Genetic Die in just the opposite order to see who plays the Workers. The remaining players can throw the Genetic Die in order to see who plays the other classes.

No word on what to do if you happen to have a Mexican woman or Asian man playing the game. I guess you'd just have to wing it.

A view of the board:

The rest of the rules are fairly complex--just like in real life, they are sometimes hard to understand!--but here's a highlight:

When landing on a Chance square, Capitalists pick up a Chance Card from the pack marked "Capitalist," and Workers from the pack marked "Worker." WHAT IS SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE MAY BE SAUCE FOR THE GANDER, BUT WHAT IS GOOD LUCK FOR THE CAPITALISTS IS BAD LUCK FOR THE WORKERS, AND VICE VERSA.

Let's take a gander at that sauce for the gander, shall we? A random Chance Card for the Capitalists reads:

Sexually repressed people generally make good, docile workers, so you develop a sex-education program which makes young people disgusted with their natural functions. Easily worth a couple of assets.

Sounds familiar in this age of "abstinence-only" sex ed programs, doesn't it? "Class Struggle," you are eerily prescient!

Here's a randomly-drawn Workers' Chance Card:

If religion is the opium of the older workers, then opium (pot) is the religion of the younger set. While you're looking at the lights inside your head--"Groovy, man, real groovy"--the Capitalist slips you one of his debits.

Did I mention that "Class Struggle" was produced in 1977?

The most bittersweet section, besides the "Tournament Rules," is the part of the rule book dedicated to "Hints for Classroom Use." I say "bittersweet" because it is both heartening and heart-breaking to see the eternal optimism displayed by the makers of this game. They actually thought that there would be "Class Struggle" tournaments, and that it would be used as an aid for teaching in United States public schools. I really can't imagine being so rosy-glassed about any such thing today...

At the end of the booklet is a letter that reads:

Dear Friend,

Now that you have played "Class Struggle" (and if you have enjoyed it), you may be asking "What can I do to get 'Class Struggle' into the hands of more people?" The answer is that you can do a lot that is beyond the power ouf our limited distribution network. You can, for example, show your copy of the game to local book, toy, game, stationery, gift, department, and magazine stores, and encourage them to order.

With you allied to us, we cannot lose...nor can you.

Yours in struggle,

Bertell Ollman
(For Class Struggle, Inc.)

Sob! Sniffle! It makes me so sad! Can you imagine walking into Dillard's and encouraging them to stock "Class Struggle?"

One more thing: When I got this game a few years ago, I figured it had to be pretty damn rare. I was so excited that the very next day I told my friend Seth O. (who writes the excellent Carefully Selected Garbage blog, by the way) about it at my store. And he calmly replied that he had a copy, too! Apparently, one of his U.T. professors had picked one up at some point and thought that Seth would enjoy it, which he did. I could not believe that of the three people in the room, two of us owned "Class Struggle." So maybe Bertell Ollman's dream was not in vain!

Power to the people!

Designs

2005-11-17T19:42:00.000-08:00

Today's thrift find is the paperback book Designs, by Iris Johnson. It was released in 1987, and has all the hallmarks of an amazingly entertaining bad "Dynasty"/Jackie Collins rip-off. The cover says: "Every love has its moment. Every passion has its price." Lord, ain't that the truth.

From the teaser page:

The desert wind raced through the still car as he leaned over and coaxed her mouth open and touched his tongue to hers. "Undress," he commanded.

Silently, Amanda watched as he pulled off the expensive silk tie and tossed it into the back seat, unbuckled the slim alligator belt. His arrogance took her breath away.

She could hear the cackle of some desert creature as her pulse became a drumbeat, then a hundred drumbeats, spiraling downward through her body. Slowly her dress drifted to the carpeted floor of the car...

Wow. I think I need a second or two to digest all that imagery...

...OK, I'm back. I think "his arrogance took her breath away" may have to be my new Myspace headline.

I'm going to open the book at random and enter a passage. You'll just have to take my word for it that it's random, as you don't really have a choice. However, rest asuured that every single page of Designs is a miniature masterpiece:

Helen Tennyson marched into the conference room in the Municipal Center in Bradley, Arizona, with every intention of breaking balls. Her red blouson jacket shouted with rage and authority, and her dark hair framed a pace paled with anger.

You know, I have a jacket that shouts mild depression and ennui. Go figure.

Here's one more:

A Rolls Royce Silver Shadow drove Byron Moore and Heather between the gates of the West Hills Sanitarium in Westchester County. Climbing yellow roses lined the driveways, and drifting clouds of pink azaeleas framed the white antebellum mansion. Byron looked out the tinted windows and gestured with one hand. "Look at that," he said huskily. "The beauty...my God, my God..."

Heather was frightened by his intensity. She drew her bare knees up to her chest and her sneakers scuffed the upholstery.

"It's pretty," she said.

As far as I can tell, the main character, Amanda Gray, is sold by her adoptive parents to a sexual sadist, one Bryon Moore, who has a tendency to make husky pronouncements about antebellum sanitariums. Over the course of her life, Amanda is burned with a red-hot poker, becomes a world-renowned interior designer, is gang-raped, and goes blind. I think maybe she falls in love, too, somewhere in between almost having her eyeballs cut out by Byron and designing the interiors of a hotel in Bradley, New Mexico called The Pueblo.

It's pretty riveting stuff, actually. I recommend it heartily.

Cost: 99 cents. Worth every penny!