This is a new story about our culture of acquisition. Some time ago, the most desired collectible object was a thermal container; the Stanley company’s limited edition pink cup drove desperate people to line up outside stores before dawn, harass and cause fights among store clerks and shoppers alike, post social media clips of people crying with happiness over their purchases and school children to be tormented for not joining the popularity clique associated with the acquisition.
I have used Tervis vessels for years because they are American-made and stylish, perhaps not as old a company as Stanley (Tervis was founded in 1946, and Stanley 1913), but I don’t risk bodily injury for the ones I buy, nor do I bow to popularity contests. The things I needed to do to be accepted into the outer circles of school friendships such as purchasing certain clothes or study accessories did and meant nothing. Nobody brings up one thing we were supposed to be popular by collecting, and those objects are probably either part of a trash heap deep in the ocean or in a dump somewhere.
Yet the concept of the “must-have” object continues to drive us like mindless sheep being herded by the nipping teeth of a shepherd dog. Nobody seems to tire of the ritual. Word comes out of the latest object, and immediately the pursuit begins. In no time, a simple thing ruins the peace and balance of daily life.
Here is another such story.
This object was touted as a promotional offer for purchase involving an event, and no proof of association with the actual event was needed to buy. Also, it was provided a month early, meaning that people not even planning to have anything to do with the event could purchase one. By the time the event actually began, the object was already appearing online for sale at several times its retail price.
And there was one other aspect to the object: it had an unusual configuration which lent itself to some R-rated speculation similar to the significance of apples and pastry in the film American Pie, and leading to memes about, um, other uses for the collectible and an IYKYK (if you know, you know) sub-topic. Would you pay three times the cost for a collectible which had possibly been near the anxious groin of some careless person experimenting with the potential of a thrill?
I was one of the people who attended the actual event, and the last object was sold out just minutes before my arrival. This meant that I and most of the people who really would have benefitted from the object didn’t have the opportunity. Do the event originators care? Are the resellers actually making profits? We will never know. The creators certainly made back their investment. However, my feeling is that if I can’t walk into a place during regular hours and receive what I am looking for, it’s not worth injuries or a lighter wallet to seek it out among the resell vultures.
And I have just told you the story of what happened when AMC theatres introduced a limited edition popcorn bucket to commemorate the release of Denis Villenueve’s Dune: Part 2 in theatres at the beginning of March. The bucket, which began sales in February, included a lid in the shape of a breaching sandworm from the story, its gaping mouth ringed by long spiked teeth recreated in molded plastic as a truncated tunnel of prurient interest to some collectors and curious adventure-seekers.
I wish I didn’t know.
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