brass pot
Item:
Brass pot.
Why It’s Here:
Ass pot.
Probable Recipient:
Trash slot.
Sass not:
Crass bot.
Some things are things that you put other things inside of. And I guess sometimes you just run out of things to put in these things, and so you put these things on the swapmeet table in hopes that someone else will have some uncontained things that need dealing with.
Brass pot.
Ass pot.
Trash slot.
Crass bot.
A medium-sized black suitcase in good condition.
I don’t know! I mean, christ, it’s a perfectly decent suitcase! I try to come up with reasons for this stuff, but c’mon! eBay! Craigslist! This isn’t a half-emptied bottle of avocado-rum hair gel, people, it’s a freakin’ suitcase. It’s got little wheels and everything! You can sell this! You can turn this directly into money with minimal effort!
Though maybe there were body parts inside or something. I didn’t check.
Someone who is going to be all “holy crap, I can’t believe someone was just giving this away! It’s a sweet-ass suitcase! They must be a real idiot, whoever they are! Seriously!” Seriously!
You know, like in that George Romero movie.
You know the one I’m talking about.
Samsonite of the Living Dead.
A bottle of cyan-colored AIRWICK EM5014 Inspiration perfume.
Previous owner has a rare dissociative disorder that has crippled his mind such that he can only recognize objects by vague descriptive properties. He saw “blue and sloshy” and thought, okay, I guess I do need mouthwash.
Distraught, panicky members of Chicago, glad finally to have relocated it after a long period of meaninglessness.
They wanna have it near them.
It really kind of brings the whole cosmetics industry back down to earth.

A green-tinted glass bottle, full of unidentified liquid, with a cork stopper.
Because some guy’s girlfriend was so angry about not being able to open it that she decided to get rid of it. He tried to open it himself to change her mind, but in the end he couldn’t stop ‘er.
Someone who has been waiting to hear from an sea-faring lover for so long that they’ve lost all sense of reason.
And they’ve been listening to the Police, see.
Message in a Bottle? The song?
Get it?
*taptaptap*
Is this thing on?
It would be Tom.
…
TOM STOPPARD, DAMMIT.

A small black jewelry box, topped by shiny embroidered beads.
The last time a jewelry box showed up, I didn’t know what the hell it was. My wife pointed out that it was a jewelry box. Which it clearly is, I suppose.
So this? This is here to give me a chance to correctly identify it. Salvation. Redemption. I am a whole man once more.
One of those lucky, dashing, incredibly desirable people who can successfully identify jewelry boxes.
What do you call earrings shaped like Ali and Foreman?
Jewelry boxers!
A white ceramic coffee mug with a yellow “Boston Blend” label.
I suspect that it’s a very late and very confused bid to contribute to the Boston Tea Party.
A Patriots fan?
Coffee is for closers!

An unmatched ceramic mug and a plate, in an orange box.
To frighten and confuse!
It’s worth noting that the orange box originally contained ski-boots. Not that you’d be able to tell, from where you’re sitting—the text in the photo isn’t readable without a pair of patented Ultra-Vision Goggles—but take my word for it. Dinnerware in an orange ski-boot box. Lovecraftian, this thing.
Someone who keeps leaving their ski-boots sitting out. You know who you are.
They’re the patentedest!
A green mesh bag, about a foot deep, with the words “DA NANG” in stenciled block letters.
Because someone knows better than to mesh with Da Nang.
Someone looking to make tea in bulk. Stuff this thing full of Orange Pekoe and run a hot bath!
Da Nang starts to look like “Dang”. I bet that came up a lot in rough drafts of Veitnam war flicks:
FATHER: “Son, we need you on the farm! Don’t run off and join the army!”
SON: “It’s too late! I’m going to a seaport in central Vietnam!”
FATHER: “Dang!”
BOTH GIGGLE
A small red velvet purse with the word “beauty” written in rhinestones.
Prior owner got sick of waiting for matching “the beast” wallet to come along.
Someone looking for just that much more constant validation. I’m imagining an uncertain thirtysomething, going to bars to meet men and pointing helpfully to this thing when she catches their eyes.
Sorry, Disney lyricist, but I have to call bullhookey. Tale as old as time? The sub/dom, opposites attract, goodness-hidden-beneath-monstrosity themes of Beauty and the Beast as old as time? Was there something analogous going on amidst those eventful first femtoseconds of the Big Bang? I do not think so!
Even the latter claim seems like a stretch. Song as old as rhyme? That’s not a very specific delineation—are we to believe that this song is exactly as old as rhyme? As old as and possible older than? And in that case, is the song in the film a translation from whichever Ur-language first contained rhyme? To say nothing of how a singing teapot would have such a thorough command of the history of song and language.
I’m not buying it. I’m starting to think that movie wasn’t very realistic at all.
A medium-sized brown wooden basket decorated with an apple insignia.
Because when someone asked for one of those Apple thingies to carry around their music in, this is not what they had in mind, dammit.
The winner of the laundryroom swapmeet’s first annual Steve Jobs Lookalike Contest. Send in those photos, folks!
There is no contest. Or, anyway, there is no basket—it’s gone already. If you want to email me a picture of you or your wife or your dog posing as the Apple honcho, though, I won’t stop you.