GROOVY’S Pop Culture Emporium is a store on Pittsburgh’s South Side that specializes in vintage toys and games from the 60′s through the mid 90′s with the emphasis really on 70′s and 80′s stuff. My son loves the place. He has this strange, almost romantic notion of the superiority of toys from my youth. He is right about toy guns – an individual could (and some did) rob stores with the toy guns prior to the mid 80′s – when they started to sisify them, molding them in day glow plastics and basing the designs on fantasy instead of fact with the florescent orange muzzle tip. Oddly enough, my daughter loves the place too. She’ll go crazy over the most beat ass stuff- like little plastic gorillas.
EVERY now and then, we make our way dahn to the South Side and check out a few stores and dig the non-corprate coffee culture at the Beehive but really the main purpose of these jaunts is Grovvy’s. For him, it used to be Star Wars but somewhere along the line he transitioned to 1:72 scale army men and latched on to the larger scale G.I. Joe action figures from the early 80′s that are around three-and-a-half inches tall.
Don’t get me wrong, it is cool to go to Groovy’s and look around – but most of their toys are incomplete, missing parts, boxes and the associated ephimira that accompanies a true, New Old Stock toy. If I’m paying a premium, I expect all of that stuff. This doesn’t matter to a 7 year-old. Realistically I know he’ll end up losing and or destroying this fluff, but I’m a wheeler and dealer; a flea market musketeer from the days of the way back and I have been haggling at yard sales and the like since I was about 12 – refusing to pay full price. And missing fluff equals deep discount especially for a collectable. I’ve used every tactic from my vast bag of shylock tricks to walk away with the lowest price possible. So when the apparent owner of the store, a hipster in black shirt and black jeans with white belt, told us that the G.I. Joe Dragonfly helicopter, sans the accompanying Wild Bill figure, was forty bucks I balked. I can find it in the same ‘good’ condition for much less. I point out to him, in a somewhat loud voice that for forty bucks, he wasn’t getting the box or the pilot and so it was not a good deal. This sews seeds of doubt into the uninitiated casual buyers mind that all of their prices may be questionable. The expectation is that I get a lower price and am hustled out of the store before I jeopardize any possible sales. She shurges her shoulders and walks away. Okay. An escalation is in order.
“Soren, we’ll go to the next toy show; I’m sure we’ll find a complete one for that price.”
Almost on que this middle-aged lady rolls up to me and asks (again, this is within earshot of the owner/manager “whatever the hell she be…”).
“Where are the toy shows around here?” Beautiful, it’s like I have a shill.
I explain that they occur twice a year, usually at the Monroeville Expo Mart.
I take notice as other shoppers toward the back of the store listen in on the conversation. One couple looks at each other and walk out.
“Sir,” Sister Christian nervously called to me from behind a laptop on the counter. “Sir, please let me show you that forty is a reasonable price for the Dragonfly…”
I join her behind the counter and she proceeds to show me a list from some weird ebay query that I would never run, illustrating recent auction results with prices.
The Fruit of a Loin that works there with a scratcher tattoo on his neck chimes in with the same condesending tone that you get from Manny Thiner (a local show promoter) or the dicky record collector that you want to punch in the throat because of the snide look on his face.
“Yeah; what do you think, this stuff isn’t worth what we have it priced at, patchew, G.I. Joe is rare.”
Yes, that is the sound he made: ‘patchew’. His scraggly, porno style pony tail mane pulled back to reveal a receding hair line and the horrible tattoo on his neck is fronting on me? Seriously? About ninety percent of the people with tattoos on their necks are complete idiots. I figure he is in the top ten of the ninty percent nation. Later my wife tells me that he tried to get my kids excited about Thunder Cat t-shirts. Really dude, Thunder Cats? Star Blazers – sure, but Thunder Cats? Did you pay attention in the 70s and 80s? Shitty animation and an unquestionably uncool story line – seems he’s in the top two percent of Thunder Cunt nation.
“See, this one went for eighty, and it is the helicopter with the pilot, no box. Here is one that went for fifty, with no pilot and here is one that went for forty in much poorer condition.” I quickly note the pattern and see that they are organized from highest to lowest. “I priced it between. I base the prices on the market, I’m not just making them up…” To her credit, she was very nice and cordial, and I was a bit disarmed because she looked like the chick that played bass for Ultra Vivid Scene. I agree that she needs to make as much profit as possible, but dealing with me she is going to have a lower profit margin; it just isn’t going to be off of me. This setting is analogious to a buffet and I’m that fat bastard that is going to eat at least eighteen dollars worth of food at the nine dollar buffet.
I gets mines.
She walks away from the PC and I grab the mouse and scroll down and see that the majority of the list are under ten bucks with one or two bids and that there are a few ‘Buy Now’ ones that include the figure for under 20. There is one Dragonfly where the auction ends in one day with a starting bid of five bucks and it appears even more ‘rare’ as it is in desert tan. I act surprised in a Gomer Pyle sort of way, “We’ll golly, I didn’t know those are so rare…”
Thunder Cunt smiles and says, “Yeah, that stuff is really rare these days.” And slinks away in his quasi vintage Steeler shirt. I make sure to click on the five dollar one and blow it up to the full screen. Sister Christian rolls up to pc and looks over at me and my kids at the back of the store – my daughter is picking out a couple of five dollar, 80s Barbies with crimped hair, actual NOS for five bucks – now that’s what I’m talking about. That’s a good price.
My son makes his way back to the G.I. Joe display case and walks away with a working tank from 1982. I actually had this one, it takes two D batteries and goes based on what direction you move the tank commanders hatch; a late 80′s Cobra attack jet that looks like an A-10 and a small attack boat that looks to be from the late 80s as well. All are mostly complete and the total was thirty bucks. She tries to engage me again on the helicopter and seems to want to haggle, but the secret is out. This thing is about as rare as piss bottles on the side of the interstate. Sure, you might not see one every mile, but keep driving, you’ll come across one.
I’m glad that they reissue old toys and I wish they would reissue more. Manufacturing techniques are more precise and so stuff nowadays is more detailed; action figures are more articulated and tolerances more precise. It would also help to kill off the nostalgia vultures that miss the point of what toys are for; to be enjoyed by kids, played with and eventually broken and maybe lost. Making up a great memory of what was and not enshrined like a culturally significant artifact that exist in a vacuum so far removed from the original purpose as to render it a cliché.
I could see it as an entry in Flaubert’s Dictionary of Received Ideas: ‘Vintage Toy Broker – See douche bag’
Editor: Written by: RONDMC. RONDMC is a contributor to BLASFOME.com. He writes on a wide variety of topics ranging from Pittsburgh street culture history to things he does to entertain himself. We love him. You should too!
AS I walked past the booth between camping supplies and shoes, I made the mistake of looking the point man in the eye,
“How would you like to get $150 dollars in Bass Pro gift cards today?”
I didn’t. I don’t fish and on rare occasions I camp. We were in this Bass Pro Shop because the South Carolina Sun is brutally hot.It makes a guy like me, one that is genetically engineered for cold climates with a fur shirt, melt. We were here for the air conditioning and free aquarium that these places offer.
“You can instead get $125 in cash instead…” Now I was interested.
All along I knew this was for a timeshare. The point man kept going on and on about how this is merely a chance to see a “place to stay” but nobody gives you loot for looking. It’s a carrot stuck out in the hopes of snagging a greedy yet timid soul that will succumb to the pressure of a hard sale.
Not this Pilgrim.
THE demo property was several miles away from North Myrtle on the bypass, considerably off the beach. After passing through a stalled series of industrial parks and past a closed decaying amusement park the complex was on our right, across from the seemingly abandoned Waccamaw Factory Shoppes. We pulled in about 15 minutes late because Google maps didn’t even have the details of this ghost town. I didn’t think beach; I thought about breaking into the shuttered Freestyle Music Park and roaming around. I made sure to feed the kids sugar. Bad behavior would help speed this ‘tour’ up. That was my hedge anyway.
My first impressions ofBluegreen’s Harbour Lights resort is not favorable. It could have used a coat of paint; like three or four years ago. The offices are contained in a big mixed use building reminiscent of a lot of the construction prior to the age of the steel building boom. A rectangle with elements of someones ideal home; a porch, pillars and sparse windows. This design has surly been stripped down and used for offices. It was pretending to be homey and was failing miserably.
Walking into the Welcome Center was the very antithesis of welcoming; it was impersonal and sterile. A huge lobby of couches with tables that had buckets of candy. The seats were filled with the People of Walmart. To the back of the waiting room were yet more salty and sweet snacks and a fountain drink machine. I took notice of a woman with a little boy who was around 7 years old. He seemed vacant and lost; the product of divorce or a dead father. They sent a young dude to work this woman. I heard her say she was from Texas and when the sales guy asked about her husband, she hugged the little boy and said, “Here’s the only man in my life.”
We were greeted by a Britney. She was like a lot of chicks I’ve meet in the South, extremely cute from some angles but with a bit of piss in the gene pool which resulted in some obvious defect; maybe one eye noticeably lower than the other or visibly misshapen and uneven breasts. She had a grill that looked like a sharks: there were teeth everywhere. She lead us to a room of low glass cubicles that was designed for the pitch. Guys in cheap ties and unsized watch bracelets moved around the room to add an air of action in an otherwise dead environment. She started her presentation as I zoned out and the sugar kicked in for the kids who were now swarming the popcorn machine. I did notice other things about Brit - like her unwashed hair from a night of partying; her doe like eyes, those teeth and her inability to sit in a dress. She sat with her legs wide open. I imagined getting an upskirt shot of this to tweet but was unsuccessful. She droned on and asked questions that we provided vague answers to; questions designed to peel the layers back and find hooks. As that failed, she began the next phase of the tour, actually walking around the grounds and seeing a unit. A guy who looked like Billy Bob Thorton stopped by and mumbled some shit about a price sheet after he introduced himself.
AS we make our way to the first of several pools, the thought “Ugly American” came to mind. I have to admit, though, the facilities were nice.
Eventually we walked across a small pond via a rope bridge. It was at this point that I noticed you could see Brits black underwear through her black dress. I also noticed how unusually long her arms were. Like ape long. The condo is laid out exactly like the one that we’re renting. Albeit this one has recently been remodeled where as ours was firmly stuck in 1992 interior design. My son starts complaining about his stomach. All of the sweets and salty snacks have got to him. He proceeds to take a huge smelly shit in the guest bathroom located near the front door. As he’s dropping bombs like some shit in Vietnam, I’m in the kitchen across from him holding the baby. I notice a pretzel on her thigh. I take it and look for the garbage. Not finding it as Brit drones and drones on about the benefits of a timeshare. I end up placing it in the bowl of plastic fruit. She totally busts me as she grabs it and says, “Hmm - that doesn’t belong there…”
It’s finally dawning on her that we are not buyers as my wife continues to roll her eyes and the kids jump on the furniture. As we make our way out of the unit, she mentions that she’ll be moving to DC with her paramedic boyfriend after her dad gets a liver transplant because “…he has cirrhosis”. Classic appeal to sympathy that falls short. It gets me thinking her mom must have been a drinker too; explains the brachiating arms. Just when it seems it’s over there is yet more presentation. At this my wife laughs and starts to cry. Brit turned around and my wife said, “Just ignore me, I’m bipolar…” Brit reassuringly responds with, “Oh - that’s okay…” completely missing the joke. She lead us back to the low glass cube room to a flat panel TV that featured the companies website with pictures of all of their resorts. The kids are wrestling as she launches into the same angle as before; oblivious to the reality that we are not buying.
Finally it ends as Billy Bob again returns and tries to pressure me into a sale. I blame my unwillingness to buy on the Democrat majority and that does the trick and Sling Blade backs off. His attitude changes as he instructs her to “…take [us] to the gift department” and he acts disappointed as he heads back to the mission control desk that occupies the back of the room where all of the closers hang out. A bell sounds and people cheer. My wife asks, “What just happened?”
I have a pretty good hunch, “Someone just bought in” Brit says.
I can hear Billy Bob at the desk saying, “I can’t believe they wasted our time…” Come on fucko - I’m the one on vacation - it’s my time that was wasted but I did make over $50 an hour of walking around money!
DOWNSTAIRS in the Prize Center, Brit’s demeanor changes as well. We were now scum bags because we were able to outlast these snakes. Brit’s demeanor changes too as my kids see the check and shout “We got paid!”
She gets snide and bitchy but I don’t take it personal or hold it against her - she’s just trying to get paid.
Editor- Seez Mics from Educated Consumers sent this over. A little blog post action about their tour with Eyedea and Abilities…
Hello.
As you know, we recently toured with the homeys Eyedea & Abilities and Kristoff Krane.
Many people have asked Jason and I, “So… how was the tour?”
Instead of giving you a boring rundown of life-altering experiences and the intense emotional encounters we inevitably have with fans, we present the following list of crazy things that happened… OR DID THEY?
So… how was the tour?
Great, until…
…Cole used his sandwich as the EZ pass.
…A girl asked “Are you as bad at sex as you are at a live performance?”
…We parallel parked in a sewer.
…Icon asked to be on the guest list via Twitter. Just do it the old fashioned way and text me.
…Nobs’ cat broke into his house and robbed us.
…Cole went from city to city disappointing the shit out of people.
…Jason threw garbage on his crotch, killed a man, then said “That’s what I’m going to do to your face earlier!”
…Our poo brew broke.
…We realized AIDS is worse than herpes.
…We told drug dealers to check out the “Uhh Yea Dude” podcast.
…Cole quit rap to become a New York street ball legend.
…Jason pointed out Cole saying he wants to fuck a MILF is redundant.
…We weren’t on the guest list at the Jersey toll booth.
…Tim Horton’s and Bob Evans stopped serving oatmeal at 11 a.m.
…The cop had a brother in D.C.
…The food smelled and tasted like my feet.
…K littered in Toronto.
…Kris gave his credit card number to the infomercial, which frightened and confused Cole.
As always, many thanks to Joelle Nicolette for her wonderful photography (http://joelle-nicolette.blogspot.com/).
Respect due to E&A (myspace.com/eyedeaandabilities) for bringing us along, Kristoff Krane (myspace.com/kristoffkrane) for the fresh ginger and yoga poses, and Brady for having awesome hair. Thanks to Laura, we will be joining our Minnesota brethren in their stomping grounds for the “Building Better Bridges” tour August 18 - 21. You can tell a mid-western friend via the invite page: http://tinyurl.com/buildingbetterbridges.
Here in the Blast offices we love ourselves some car racing. I don’t know what it is about four wheels and a motor but the idea of competition and going fast turns every one of us into a 16 year old kid with his first car. Its no secret that we have lead feet around here. So, when Cadillac sent over two VIP passes for their track side tent at the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix and Car Show I was geeked to say the least.
As the day of the race approached I looked for someone to go with I generally try to spread my cool event wealth if I can and my boy TJ the Dj had taken me to a shitload of cool events over the last few months so I figured it was my turn to ante up. The race started at 8 am which was far to early for TJ and I on a Saturday and if I was going to be drinking Sangira and eating or d’oeuvres in the hot summer sun I wasn’t trying to start any earlier than 11:00. Of course like a five year olds first trip to Disneyland I was up early and calling TJ to hurry up and get to the crib. I was excited I love cars.
We got over to the track around 11:00ish and wandered through the car show checking out a ton of really cool whips. Honestly there were some many cool cars I can’t even pick a few. Although I will say there are a bunch of guys in Warrendale, PA building some really dope on the cheap super cars complete with tube chassis and 1000hp starting around $70,000 if you have the means I highly recommend them. They look like they would satisfy and adrenaline junkie’s need for speed.
After the car it was time for food plus it was getting damn hot. I swear by noon it was 100 degrees F in the shade. We decided to make our way to the Cadillac tent to get some grub and stock up on some more of the alcohol that was giving u the false illusion of quenching our thirsty while adding to the delusion caused by the soaring temperatures.
Cadillac brought the fury with a huge tent right along side the track with a great view and a ton of food and things to drink. If we would have went home hungry and sober it wouldn’t have been Cadillac’s fault. I swear TJ and I cleaned out a whole tray of Swedish Meatballs. The girls that were serving the booze hooked it up too. We loaded up with more Sangira some water and a bunch of snacks for the road. There was more race to be had.
We headed to the top of this big hill to check out the BMW and Jaguar tents. Its not that hard to get TJ and I to chop it up with a salesman about $100,000 luxo cars and try some seats on for size. TJ picked the Jag I had my eyes on the Beamer. Then something caught my eye from about 100 yards away…. The Audi booth. I love Audi’s and they had more than one RS-8 sitting in the tent as well as their Lemans Car. I rushed down the other side of the hill leaving TJ half in a Jag half out tryin to catch up. The heat was starting to get to both of us and I wanted to see these cars before we bounced. If I had $170,000 lying around the RS-8 would be my first choice great lines and everything Audi’s RS series is known for… being the baddest shit out. (Message to Audi of America: If you wanna send me an RS-8 to beat up on for a few days my email is in the contact page on the site. I’m not picky about color and I promise I’ll return the car unscathed. The tires will probably be a different story. Oh and you know I am parking that shit in front of the club and running a hoe train before I give it back.) TJ and I car-nerded out over the Audi’s for a while and watched a few more laps of the race from right around the Audi booth when we realized we were out of water. The temperature was soaring into the 90’s and the heat index was so high it felt like the top of every thermometer I saw was going to pop off. We had, had enough the sun won. It was time to leave.
We swung through the Vitamin Water booth and grabbed some Smart Water for the road and we were on our way. It was around 3:00 and we were both in desperate need of a nap and some AC.
These little buggies aren’t the fastest things on earth but, goddamn are they fun to watch.
Look BAD ASS up in the dictionary and there is a picture of this Audi Leman’s car and Chuck Norris. (When this car reaches top speed Chuck Norris cries like a girl)
Anymore there are very few things that really entertain me. One of those things is watching Dood Computer and Dizzo from Muscle City perform. I don’t know what they put in the water in Albany, NY whatever it is these dude are chugging gallons of it and it makes them rap like rabid animals. And just like rabid animals these two are awesome to watch but don’t get to close.
Dood Computer and Dizzo showed up at my door around 5:30 Saturday afternoon. After the greetings and introductions we got down to business Iron City style. We had a few beers talked about their drive and tour and we were off to the Z Lounge to load in and get sound checked.
Sound check (if you wanna call it that) went great then we took a walk for some food. Some giant sandwiches complete with cole slaw and french fries right on the sandwiches were in order and after a few more beers and a couple shots we were back in the venue.
The night feature performances by Stillborn Identity, Real Deal, Joe Boots, and Basick Sickness.
Stillborn was up first and ripped a decent set I’m proud of him. I’ve been watching Stillborn grow as an MC for a few years now and I have to say he is coming along pretty damn well. His stage presence gets better every time I see him perform and he is a damn nice kid.
Big Drastyk was originally scheduled to perform but, due to some unexpected issues made it to the show but, was unable to perform. Drastyk being the true G that he is brought Real Deal to fill his slot. If you like battle rap then you know what this cat is all about. Real Deal showed you everyone why he is quickly coming up on the Grind Time Battle circuit. If you don’t know peep the post right before this and watch him murder 9DM.
Joe Boots and Basick Sickness followed Real Deal with a performance that is characteristic of the two of them. The two of them have been preforming together for so long that their stage banter reminds me of an old Jewish couple that has been together for years and still hasn’t stopped pointing out each others short comings. If you didn’t know better you would think they hate each other and were being forced to be there. It sounds crazy but it come off well. Their sets have a tendency to go something like this: Perform a song, Talk shit on each others whitetrashness (Is that even a word?) Perform a sound make fun of each others drinking ability. At some point Boots demanded the worst shot of whiskey he could buy specifically to feed to Basick. The two of them could go on like that for hours. It honestly boggles my mind.
Wrapping up the evening (pun fully intended) Muscle City came complete with outfit changes and their usual in you face style. To say that these guys perform to the crowd would be an understatement. These guys perform AT the crowd. You wanna play the wall in the back that’s cool Dood Computer got you he’ll walk right back to the corner you’re hiding in and spit 16 bars about a half an inch away from your face. Gotta take a piss forget it he’ll show up in the stall with you and make you his hype man while your dick is in his hand. Dizzo is a mad man. With his new hair-do Dizzo looks like Zach Galifianakis except twice as funny and 100 times the party animal. The two them put on a one hell of a show. The audience is either by choice or force made to laugh at not only the performer but, themselves as well. No one is safe.
Thank you to everyone that came out, Lou from Z-Lounge, Kelly from Z-Lounge for keepin the drinks stiff, All the performers and everyone that helped out through out the night. We can’t do this with out you guys.
Come check out Underground hip-hop at its finest….
Saturday July 24th
Muscle City is Dood Computer and Dizzo
With:
Born Again Hard Records (members of P.C.P.)
Stillborn Identity
Special guest appearance by Uncle Arlo
and more to be announced
Hosted by Joe Boots
$5
10pm - 2 am
Over 21
Upstairs @
Z:Lounge
2108 East Carson St
Pittsburgh, PA
If you have ever been to a party with any of these animals you know that this is so much more than a hip-hop show. If you haven’t seen these fools then you need to get on it. Drunken debauchery encouraged. Hearts will be broken, people will get laid and someone will probably come pretty damn close to getting arrested. You can’t afford to miss it.
