Thanksgiving is almost here, but let’s be real, despite the savory qualities of grandma’s homemade pumpkin pie, for many people, T-giving is just a carbo-loading pregame for the real event: Black Friday.
Once the last of the yams are jammed into a Tupperware container and everyone’s been sent home with the final shreds of turducken or whatever the kids are eating these days, Americans will refocus their saliva glands to drool with glassy-eyed awe at the fluorescent-lighted aisles of Targets, Macy’s and Best Buys across the country.
No part of these United States is entirely immune to the temptation of a tactical transaction. From sea to shining sea, all will cast aside their differences after a particularly mud-slathered election season and difficult fiscal year to join together once more on this most sanctified and economy-bolstering day of the holiday season this coming Friday.
Last year on this auspiciously named event, enough Americans roused themselves from their tryptophan stupors in the wee hours of a nippy November morning to spend over $11.4 billion, according to a New York Times report, the same year over 1.4 million Americans filed for bankruptcy. Yet, the denizens of the U-S-of-A were still willing to shell out, on average, about $400 a person the day after Thanksgiving because, goddamnit, what are they going to do without a third pair of knockoff Uggs when they’re on sale for only $10.95???
Oh, there’s no place like Wal-Mart for the holidays.
Now, I’ve never had the misfortune of participating in Black Friday, but I’ve reaped the rewards of the spoils obtained by my mother for several years. For Christmas ’97 I received a Tamagotchi, a miniature, golden egg of Japanese manufacturing that I brought to first grade show and tell upon my return from winter break. My glee at showing off this keychain-sized status symbol nearly matched the hubris I harbored the day I learned to tie my shoes by myself about two years earlier.
But come on; what even is a Tamagotchi? From what I remember it’s some robot/alien hatchling that moves back and forth on a one inch by one inch screen pooping itself and dying a lot. Yet with a price range of $10-15 these suckers flew off the shelves and all of my friends got one, too.
Sure, some might argue it has the redeeming quality of teaching children how to care for another “living” creature without the risk of accidentally starving the family dog to death. But the impacts of neglect seem significantly lessened when pushing the little rubber button on the back of an egg let you bury your first Tamagotchi with little ceremony and start anew with a little baby hatchling.
Perhaps (OK definitely) an even worse pseudo-living toy came to me but a year later in 1998 when Furbies hit the shelves and rocked everyone’s world. I’m not sure how Tiger Electronics managed to make them so appealing in the build-up to Black Friday, but I really, really wanted one. How swiftly things can change.
A Furby is probably the creepiest toy ever made by mankind ranking just ahead of a Jack-in-the-box (clowns pop out and shriek at children when they’re least expecting it) and getting your child a Chuckie doll. I cannot tell you the level of disturbing I experienced with this “hamster/owl-like creature,” as Wikipedia so accurately describes it.
First of all, it has no off switch. The number of nights I woke up in a sweat because my Furby would pop its blank and staring eyes open at random hours and begin mumbling to itself in its special language, Furbish, far surpasses the number of fingers I have on my hands. But it gets worse. After a while, Furbish started sounding a lot more like “shit” and “kill.” I’m not joking, my Furby started swearing and threatening me in between bursts of “nyoo loo loo doopy do.” Do you know how scary that is for a 9 year old?
I know it was possible to train them to say “hello,” so perhaps some of my grade school friends had fun playing a trick on me by teaching my fuzzy Furby to be creepier than normal. But frankly, I feel lucky that weird ball of fur and plastic didn’t strangle me in my sleep. Fun fact though: They’re back! At $66, Furbies are about to make a terrifying and inexplicable resurgence this year, with the new bonus feature of glowing LED eyes. Pick your deity, but may they please save us all.
The list of toys and gadgets goes on (like when I got a Giga Pet—a toy equally poopy and die-y as a Tamagotchi but this time in dog form), but I can barely remember most of the others. Which means what I think we can take away from this article, if nothing else, is that most of what people are buying on Black Friday is a load of crap.
(Not to sound like an ungrateful brat, mom, but let this reinforce my statement that I really don’t want anything for Christmas this year besides cookies and hot cocoa).
Granted, I’ve received a few presents that have kept my interest that I know were Black Friday purchases. But my favorite gifts every year usually end up being my stocking stuffers of new underwear, socks, chewing gum and an iTunes gift card. Though we might note: When I was little and couldn’t play with friends for the day ,my grandpa used to give me a tennis ball and tell me to throw it against a wall to play catch by myself. This is what I did for fun as a child. Perhaps I’m not the best representation of what today’s average American wants.
I know some “Door Buster” deals are too good to resist when you’ve had your eye on that DSLR camera or fancy new tablet for months and the price is finally in your range. But I beg you: Tell your friends, tell your wives—please shop with discretion; ask yourself “Do I really need this?” before purchasing those gold skinny jeans you’ll only wear on New Year’s Eve. Oh yeah, and boycott Furbies because those things are creepy as balls.
Sincerely regret a Black Friday purchase? Commiserate with Jaime at JBrackeen@dailycardinal.com.
