Okay, there’s nothing terribly upsetting about this guy, right?

The eyebrows are a little bit creepy, and he looks altogether too eager to make your acquaintance–and he’s nearly a foot long, at that stage you really should think of making the transition from “plastic miniature” to “stuffed animal,” but maybe he was made for a child with a delicate digestive system, easily rinsed off to hide his shame. His eyebrows are weirdly dark and glossy, and the same color as his nose, and overall he looks a bit like someone you’d expect to encounter sneaking furtively out of the $.25 peepshow arcade.

Oh, no, Nothing so innocemt as that.

This is the bear you’ve been warned about–eager to corrupt innocent young kewpie dolls to service his base physical needs. No doubt he has a harem of PVC-headed, tousel-haired sex slaves. You can see it in his smirk.

“You look young, unbroken, and you have a plastic head. Let’s see if you can do anything about…this.” (Zzzzip! thump.)

I’m sure he’d be even happier if he was anatomically correct. On my limited honor, I did not set up this shot. They were that way when I found them.

Found at Texas Thrift, near I35 and 51st by the Famous Christmas Store, Austin, 9/05.

Why doesn’t everybody worship Barry McGuire? I mean, really, light streams forth from his sacred heart. I imagine song #8, “Good News Shoes,” actually healed the lame, just so they could shuffle around (until the needle skipped and they spasmed arhythmically to Barry’s repetitive croon.) This is a Christian record, probably intended to draw people’s attention to the Lord–but we know who our real savior is.

Terry Talbot is Christian music legend John Michael Talbot’s brother. Weirdly, I got to hear this guy live in concert, he plays a mean conch. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually could scamper through the clouds. It’s gotta be the shoes.

Found in Texas Thrift (Barry) and Salvation Army (Terry), I35 and 51st-ish, 10/05

Was it a soft teddy bear that you gnawed the ear off of when you were three, and even the red stitching on its nose was coming off?

Maybe it was something more noble, like a great lion or tiger, not so much to be played with, but a guardian for your room, to keep you safe at night?

Maybe a doll you could relate to, a friend, even a big sister?

Well, mine was Shroomie.

Who better to teach a child the wonders of the imagination? In the unlikely, perhaps unfortunate, event that I breed, I want my babe to have a PLUSH ANTHROPOMORPHIC FUNGUS for her bed-time companion. If I have a boy, we can call it “Shroomie.” If I have a girl, “Amanita.” Actually, that’d make a better name for the girl than the stuffed mushroom.

Oh, stuffed mushroom. It’s a pun.

Clearly, while you can’t put a price on friendship or childhood memories, Shroomie’s pretty cheap–certainly cheaper than the mushrooms they were selling down at Eeyore’s Birthday Party last spring.

Found 10/5/05, Goodwill near I35 and 183, Austin.