Harriet Carter Grab Bag #2
[Editor’s Note: Due to incomplete backups of RFSHQ’s content, this article contains media that is missing from its TwilightFoundry.com republication.]
Last year RFSHQ was terrorized by great deals on an assorted collection of bastardized “household furnishings” provided by Harriet Carter, boasting “distinct gifts since 1958”. If by “distinct” they mean “overpriced gimmick shit we stole from Sharper Image’s dumpster” then unfortunately we cannot slam them for false advertising. You know what I’m talking about — last time we were subjected to expensive headphones and crazy Texas Hold ‘Em handheld cheating devices. Face it, if you’re playing Texas Hold ‘Em, you’re already at the lowest you can possibly be so cheating won’t set you back any farther. With that out of the way, five new items of the financial apocalypse are ready to take their final stand at RFSHQ.
Have you ever owned a desk fan and then thought to yourself “gee I wonder what this would look like if I duct taped a Simon onto it”? Finally, someone has invented a party favor that not only poses as a probable fire hazard, but also has made mass-hypnosis economically available to the public. As the website says, it “spins its magic into your home to add a new dimension to any party” which leads me to believe this really is indeed some form of mind control device (used to get you to take advantage of more great Harriet Carter deals I presume). And what do they mean by “magic”? Is this thing about to spin like mad and grant wishes? Furthermore, is it even safe to be around?
Nothing says “class” like using a bunch of empty inkjet printer cartridges and pudding cups to make your table a few inches higher. Supposedly they are made of “heavy-duty molded plastic” (and are Photoshopped under the table legs) but I’m betting they’d buckle under the weight of a solid wood (real wood, mind you, not that particle board crap) dining table; and speaking of tables who is honestly needing to jack their furniture up off of the ground? Shaquille O’Neal? It says you can raise up the head of your bed for “easier breathing” but what happens if you or someone else gets a little “too rough” in your bed?…
Price: $19.98 (Pro Tip: Those same things full of ink cost only about a buck more.)
If the bizarre name doesn’t confuse you, the etched message sure as hell will. It’s a picture frame for a newborn baby — simple enough — but as I mentioned a message is engraved on it. The message reads: “God danced the day you were born.” Now, not to sound rude but what the hell is that supposed to mean? He danced? That’s it? You shot out of your mother’s vagina and God got down with his bad self? He was up there waving his hands in the air like he didn’t care while your mom was in labor? And to think, she was probably praying to him for support. What a dick.
The second this image loads, a PeTA supporter is going to shit bricks. Is that not the most horrifying “door stop” you’ve ever seen? I mean, the rabbit is cute and all, but couldn’t they have just shoved a rubber wedge up its ass and let you fit it under the door? That’s real kid-safe right there, though; the stuff of nightmares for any over-sensitive kid. “Mommy, why is your door crushing a bunny?” Harriet Carter claims this bunny “hopped off the bunny trail” to assist you in keeping doors from closing, but I’m fairly sure “getting smashed by the door” was not in the rabbit’s contract. Unfortunately though, I suppose this rabbit has been smashed one too many times, as they go on to say: “plush ‘body’ conforms to door and works on all flooring”, yes “body” as in “there is nothing really left of its innards after being smashed a few hundred times.
If their painfully dull “time flies” pun doesn’t make your ears bleed then the sounds of this clock will, every hour on the hour guaranteed. It makes a great gift for any bird lover… that you wish would eventually just fucking hate birds because this clock will make you want to kill every bird you lay your eyes on. Each hour it chimes with a different bird sound, a different ear-piercing bird sound from the depths of electronic hell; somewhere in between the infernal beeping of Mattel Football and Jamster cell phone ringtones. Think of it like getting kicked in the nuts with a steel toe boot every hour… on the hour. With a bird sound. Of course, it has a light sensor so it doesn’t chirp at night, but during the day: utter hell (until you eventually tape over the sensor). If there was ever a moment when crappy novelty gifts went too far, this bird clock is that moment. Even worse, the damn things have gone up in price three cents since I remember seeing them on TV years ago. What a rip off.