COLLECTIBLES & STUFF…

hobbsI like stuff. It doesn’t matter what kind of stuff, just stuff.

I collect stuff. I used to collect stamps when I was a kid. Only ‘squares’ collected stamps so I didn’t tell anyone about my hobby. I found out later that pretty well all my friends collected them but didn’t want to be ‘squares’ so…
People collect all kinds of stuff these days. ‘Investing in Collectibles’ they call it.
Problem is that most people don’t start collecting collectibles until somebody produces a television show or puts up a website telling them that the stuff is collectible.
By then it’s too late. Prices have already gone up.
So the best bet is to speculate. Find something that isn’t a collectible and corner the market.
Here’s the rub. What isn’t classified as collectible these days?
I remember looking in a store window display in Saskatoon years ago. There on a brightly lit green shelf sat dozens of pretty little woven baskets of deodorized and dried cow…er…residue.
I suppose when you really consider it, these are definitely one of a kind items. No two alike.
Kinda like snowflakes only heavier.
Each basket had it’s own name and certificate of authenticity. I wonder how the guy who signed the certificate verified that this was the real thing and not some cheap imported copy? Is this the handiwork of one of those ordinary black and white bovines or is it perhaps the product of the much prettier Jersey? Questions, questions.
Is there a quality control inspector at, or even near, the manufacturing plant? Who owns the copyright? Do collectors try to find some of Bossies earlier work…perhaps even that highly desired Rookie residue?
And of course the biggest question of all…who would plunk down good money plus tax for a bucket of cow residue?
Probably big city folks in apartment buildings. Maybe it’s an attempt to get back to the land without leaving the hot tub.
I think there’s a dairy farmer somewhere between Saskatoon and Prince Albert who’s still doubled over as he wobbles his way to the bank. Some city guy probably ran out of gas out there by the mailbox and in the middle of siphoning some of that farm fuel into the Mercedes the farmer made up this story about the next big art collectible. Driven by either visions of wealth or the gasoline vapors this city guy heads home with a trunk filled with only the finest examples of this new post-modern art phenomenon.
After cooking and cleaning his treasures, and detailing the Benz, he introduced the product to the marketplace.
I’m told they sold like hotcakes.
Dried and deodorized hotcakes mind you, but hotcakes nonetheless.
And what of the folks that put down good money for a mantelpiece centerpiece?
I figure it just proves the theory that if you package it nicely and call it ‘cool’ some folks will buy all kinds of residue.

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