I need to get on top of this shit! I have been staying up WAY too late writing this stuff. I'm two episodes in the hole for Breaking Bad! That's inexcusable. I'd slap my self in the dick but, I'd probably just get a boner. Gross for you...fun for me. *wink* I feel like I've been betraying my inner child lately. My poor, weak inner child. He needs a hug or money. Mostly money. What kid can't do with a little more cash. I remember those awful days of depending on my Mom for funds. What a bitch that was. Some days...I'd have to go without a Slurpee or the cigarettes that go with Slurpee's. They go together right? No? Ah well, tell that to the 9 year old version of myself. He was hard headed and strung out on "the crack". Good times. What I need right now is a valuable life altering hobby/job. Something lucrative will do. Something like...investing. Investing in what though?
Did you hear that? Every geek in the world just shot a load in their pants
I'm a nerd and a half. It's no secret. Being a nerd, I have a developed a fondness for niche' and cult subject matter that is appealing to a very select group of like minded people. Fuck. I...I just described a fetish didn't I. Well, shit, maybe it is. A big, lonely un-sexy self perpetuating fetish involving Star Wars, Star Trek and things of that ilk Some might call it endearing. I call it an expensive obsession with shit that's quickly spiraling out of my price range. That action figure up there (yes it's an action figure) costs...about...$300.00. That's insaneo money. That's "clutch your chest, it's only an action figure money. Hoooly shit why?" money. First, let me set you straight. There are lots of reasons to invest in action figures. Lots of people want them and lots of people play with them. A figure's rarity and value depend on the demand for the figure, it's condition and overall rarity. See, kids play with toys. During the course of that play, shit get's broken. Remember when you got creative once and thought Barbie would look bitchin' with a mohoawk? Yeah, you devalued that doll, much like a Vietnamese hooker that's past her prime. Other folks with the same Barbie who didn't scissor rape it's head can look forward to a doll in demand. Depending on the figure, you can make a lot of money buying and selling vintage and rare action figures. The most expensive are of course unopened, AKA: MOC (mint on card). These are pristine figures that look like they just came from the factory, despite being thirty years old. It's kind of like trafficking people! Well, what we in the people sellin' trade call "non-consenting international relocation". The big difference being, no one is going to pay top dollar for a thirty year old virgin.
Computers and underwear not included.
Why would anyone in their right mind spend money on something like that and why do I want it so bad? I think it stems from the memories of playing with action figures as a kid.
When you were down in the dirt, you weren't just dicking around with plastic men, you were making a a kind of movie...an epic movie. A movie you wished they would make. Wished they'd let YOU make. You had the plot, the scene, you spoke out the lines for your inanimate actors, played out massive stunts. There were explosions and insane ninja...flippy shit happening. It was spectacular, it was colossal, it was the epitome of epic. You were both director, actor and the audience, all at the same time for all of it! It was an unfolding world that you were within...and without all at the same time.
The figures were the lynch pin in the whole thing. They were the link you had to the real deal. There's no way in fuck Harrison Ford would show up to be directed by some idiot 7 year old that was telling him to, "Do like a jump, but, like...put your hands out like, Oh, No! then, at the last second, grab the Nazi guy and punch him and say, "Take that ya fuckin' Nazi! oh, and you do your whip thing too.". Harrison Ford wouldn't do that, he'd ask if your parents purposefully withheld oxygen from you as a baby, then, he'd fucking walking away and scream at god to quit fucking him.
Then god would shit green on him. Shit on him good.
The more those figures resembled the actors or cartoons the better. Back then of course, they...fucking didn't. Well, some kind of did. If you squinted...or after your friend hit you for not agreeing that the whip thing Indy did was awesome. An Indiana Jones vaguely looked like Harrison Ford, though, deep down, you admitted...it would never be close enough and never would be...
Just look at that beautiful bastard. Man, if I had THAT in the dirt as a kid...I'd have told school to fuck itself, played all day all night. Started drinking taken drugs and...wait...I did that shit without the awesome figure.
Something's fuckin' retarded here...and I THINK IT'S ME!
Regardless. The reason I want these things is that it fills some desire I still feel the urge to fulfill all these years later. Is it unrealistic and awful? I don't think so. It's just a driving force to satisfy that creative urge. Everyone has it...it's just that mine includes action figures of childhood heroes...and awesome villains. Nothing wrooong wit dat. Wait. That is to say, as long as you're not pissing away your rent to cop one of these fucking things. Then again, that's your fucking problem. Get help you stupid fuck. Action figures can't replace food! Sex. Maybe, but definitely NOT FOOD!
I think what he was trying to say in this piece is..."fuck your mama"
Some might say that the action figures above are themselves artwork. I would be compelled to agree with you on that. Though, I have a love of the "O.G." art. Straight up paintin', hustla. With all the big, bad ass artwork being bought and sold hundreds of millions, it's kind of hard to think you might get a toe hold in this insane commodity art world. The truth is...you can do it any time you want. I'm not saying you'll be sucking up Jackson Pollacks and shitting Warhols but, it's a start. I would love to get in on that shit. On one hand, I love art. It can be compelling, heart breaking, thought provoking and more...all in the same painting. That's also a downside to me. I would find stuff that I would want...and refuse to part with it. If I were a squirrel, I'd pack my hollowed out tree with paintings...and fucking starve because...NUTS TAKE UP TOO MUCH ROOM DAMNIT! I'm a collecting nut. The only thing keeping me at bay is my acute ability to also collect debt. I would buy the shit out of paintings, if it weren't for the hassle...like buying it. On the other hand, it's a marvelous way to make a shit load of money and fucking lose a shit load of money. You're constantly around good art or what you think is good art. It might take years and an artist's death to make appreciate in value or it can remain bullshit on canvas. It depends. People are fucking finicky that way. I'll tell you this though, if I had my druthers or hit that lotto, baby. Daddy's buying him some Pollacks!
Not you Kevin Pollak...and quit eye fucking me!
I think it's every wannabe, millionaire dreamer to have a house full of family portraits and bad ass artwork on the wall. Oh, it can't be run of the mill swap meet art either. It has to be wicked pimptastic art. We're talking real art! Expensive art! Art that makes you say...GAAAAWWWD DDDAMMMN you paid how much?! To be that pimp, is to be a pimp amongst...men? I digress. If I win the lottery, my wall is going to be covered in awesome, so eat it, that's settled. For now, ehhh...I think I'm going to have to wait. Getting paid for awesome paintings seems to be a "thing" among artists and dealers. What a bunch of assholes right? Alas, I will have to put my purchase of the one painting I might consider selling a child for...
Oh, you are sooo worth a baby.
Ladies and gentlemen...the most expensive guitar in the world...
except the one I've fashioned out of the bones of dead rock stars...
but, that's our secret.
I loooove guitars. I play them, I listen to them. I listen to them while I play...with myself. Hahaha...you walked right into that one. No seriously. I love guitars. They represent rebellion and beauty. Everything that is rock and roll...is because of the guitar. So, how about collecting them. Investing in guitars is kinda easy if you have a few hundred to throw at it and know a little bit about guitars. The prices do tend vary from almost nothing to holy fuck sky rocket and sometimes...it's for no fucking reason. A lot of it depends on popularity, sound and rarity. That one up there is signed by the likes of...Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, Brian May, Jimmy Page, David Gilmour, Jeff Beck, Pete Townsend, Mark Knopfler, Ray Davis, Liam Gallagher, Ronnie Wood, Tony Iommi, Angus and Malcolm Young, Paul McCartney, Sting, Ritchie Blackmore, Def Leppard and Bryan Adams himself. Let's just say, that guitar has been handled by more rock stars than your groupie grandmother. We both know that was a lot! Oh, don't give me that look. You know that old bird got around.
Oh, the things she'd do for a backstage pass.
It would straighten your pube curl.
I have 6 kids here and no room. Guitars seem sweet...and they sooo fucking are, but, alas, I have no means to collect them. They take up space I don't have. They're never off my agenda however. Let me tell you, the minute my kids stop needing food, clothing and shelter or when the law says it's alright to deny them those things. I'm picking up some guitars, dammit.
Noel Gallagher needs to get away from my guitars.
So, there in lies the problem. Investing in things I like. Ultimately it would lead to me keeping the shit, which isn't an investment, it's a possession. Sure, there are a lot of possessions that can be investments: houses, boats, young, Indochinese children you can sell for organ transplants but, really, at the end of the day...do you really, really want a house? Hell no. You want to rock out with a vintage guitar in a room filled with expensive artwork, being looked on by equally expensive action figures...and really, isn't that what life is all about? Sure, there's love, friendship, family and a bunch of other shit that's cheap and useless...like houses. In the end, it's that shit that really counts, right? I mean, you can't take the collectibles you invested in with you, right?
Holy shit! I sooo fucking want one of those!