Going, Going, Gone

I would like to start off the new archives by bringing back the first entry I ever published. This was posted on Diaryland on April 1st, 2000, but if memory serves I wrote it in December 1999. It just took four months to grow the balls to get a Diaryland account, and then what did I write about? ebay. And I'm happy to report that I don't have this problem anymore. (md, 15 August 2012)

Going, Going, Gone
(April 01, 2000)
 
I am addicted to ebay.

I don't mean I merely LIKE ebay-- I mean fix-needy, daily habit, intervention-worthy addicted.

I've decided that logging on to ebay is the cyber-equivalent of joining a music club or, say, slightly less of a paycheck-sucking vortex than going to Costco or BJ's Wholesale Club. If you're a member of any of these "it seemed like a good deal at the time" clubs, you know that one of your duties means having to explain your crap to your friends. Like, why I own a copy of the Pat Boone heavy metal CD? and why do I have 413 green plastic forks left over from last year's New Year's Eve party? "It's cheaper in the long run to buy the 500 pack," I seem to recall chirping ever-so-logically to Hub, whom I only bring along because he's 6' 4" and 200 lbs and can get his sinewy arms all the way around a gross of Charmin Extra Soft quilted toilet paper.

The thing about ebay, more specifically, about the crap I've been bidding on and sometimes "winning," these bits of music and nostalgia and oh-lord-deliver-me from the...COLLECTIBLE...I don't need it. Not a whit. Who needs it? Yesterday, I was perfectly content WITHOUT the Laverne & Shirley wristwatch, in fact I didn't even know such an item existed on the planet. Today, it makes all my dreams come true. Why?
Perhaps a more logical question is, how come there's so MUCH crap like this in the world? I'm a Taurus, I'm painfully logical. Then I get online.

Logic flung to the wind like a 1985 limited edition BJ and the Bear Frisbee, I feverishly log on to "my ebay," breathlessly scrolling through the auctions I'm bidding on, hoping to see green, green greeeeeeen...green text, as you know, means I'm "winning," or more accurately, Go. Go, to the post office for yet another money order and mail it to a total stranger somewhere in the bible belt, in exchange for...well, for what?

In some scary endeavor to enrich my life, I have now assumed ownership of a Littermaid Automatic Litterbox, a copy of Rick Springfield's "Working Class Dog" album, yes on vinyl and yes I have it on CD already, and a John Lennon doll. And most recently I have bid on-- and lost to others just as pathetic as me-- THREE A-Team lunchboxes, TWO Little Lulu dolls,and a tiny pair of red shoes and white socks that may or may not fit a Shirley Temple doll I already bought.

I know perfectly well that this is a symptom of something sinister, some evil that I'll have to reckon with someday.