The lady who used to live in this house subscribed to a few catalogs. By a few, I mean dozens. The postal carrier arrived laden with catalogs bundled together with a thick rubber band, too big to put into the mailbox, every day during December.

Most were of no use to us, but they’re fun to look at. I like to thumb through and imagine (or wonder) what kind of person might purchase these items.

For the wannabe “real housewife” in your life, a collection of snazzy fake furs. Fake tan and duck lips sold separately.

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I’m not sure who’d buy this next clown item, only that I would not want to be friends with them unless they would let me drop the statue off a roof.  I think some evil character in my next novel should own this statue.

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Anyone need to grapple a short polar bear?  This is obviously owned by Mark Trail and his Fist O’Fury.

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This last is my favorite. Santa’s crack problem, gloriously illustrated in full color like a Norman Rockwell print.

Would you please check out how freaking strong Santa’s hands look? Meanwhile, poor Mrs. Claus’s hands appear twisted and ravaged by arthritis.