As I write this, I am gazing with dismay and horror at the 742 catalogues that have been mailed to me since mid October. Catalogues still arrive in every day’s mail, even though the Christmas shopping spree lies far behind us. Everything nowadays, from steaks to furniture to wine, seems to be sold through catalogues. And I—mercifully—don’t even get the ones’ dealing in men’s clothing, electronics, tools, machinery, and airplanes.
Presumably, somebody must buy this stuff, including the junk sold through the so-called “gift catalogues.” In one of these ultimate horror listings I found a set of Dalmatian (with uplifted leg) and hydrant salt and pepper shakers, fashioned “true to life” and in “good taste” to “enliven your dining table or collectible shelf,” and for only $12.98. The “Giggletree” catalogue features a “Rib the Wearer” kit, in which three black ribbons announce, “Over the Hill,” “Look Who Is 40,” and “Member of the Mid-Life Crisis Club,” for $13.95.
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