I’m thinking the story here is there was a much-loved little statue, treasured since the owner was six, possibly given to her by grandma, maybe even from a time when Grandma was a wee little thing. And then the owner had her offspring, who weren’t as reverential, and suddenly, statue is short a few legs.

Now, in many cases, that would have been the end of the horse. The humane thing to do is to shoot the poor creature, it’s life as a useful (?) piece of brik-a-brack is clearly over. Dust we are, and to dustbin we shall return, and all that. But, no, not this horse. Instead, its remaining legs were lovingly popped off, which no doubt distressed the horse no end, and its stumps were pressed into cleverly-drilled holes, so that it would tread endlessly through knee-high varnished pine for the rest of eternity.

Never let common sense get in the way of a good obsession.

For those of us aging children of the ’80s, get out a hanky with me and re-live one of the best scenes from “Neverending Story“…

Salvation Army on 183 near Anderson Mill, Austin

Maybe it wasn’t intentional. Maybe they thought, “oh, red nose. Peaked eyebrows over white eyes. Yes. Yes. This is coming along quite clownishly.” And then, they added some master stroke–my bet would be the black lipstick, or maybe the somehow sinister twinkle in its eye, and that one dot of fatal ink kicked it over from “a bit jolly, a bit disturbing” to “Chucky from ‘Child’s Play.’”

Here he is, ladies and gentlemen. In the center ring.

I challenge you to find a clown more likely to give Bart Simpson nightmares than this guy. Good luck with that.

I think what sets him apart from the run-of-the-mill buffoons is the one lazy eye. It adds a dazed, somewhat corpsey tone to the overall effect. “When I can get both my eyes on you, little girl, it’ll be too late to run!” sort of thing. We understand that a great deal of effort went into painting this clown. We also understand that Hitler was something of an amateur painter, and while we are not drawing any undue comparisons, we believe the reader will discern the logical conclusion that there is something very dark inside a painter.

Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin

This would have been about 20% funnier if it had been in glassware. Trust me, the jokes just write themselves. As it is, I can only speculate….who needs a pyrex adult accessory that’s bigger than a house? If I had one of those parked on my driveway, I’m pretty sure the home-owner’s association would have words with me. I don’t know what specific words they’d have, as far as I know they don’t have any specific restrictions on the use of sex toys as lawn art and the sizes and scales thereof, but they’d come up with something.

Someone donated this. Someone multiplied the retail value of this object d’art by .25 to figure out their deductible. It’s probably more useful than that shirt that was missing every third button.

My partner, after seeing me snap a dozen shots of this guy, asked…”did you buy it?”

Really, there are some things you shouldn’t purchase used. You’d always be asking dark and unanswerable questions.

I know the kids at Savers got a kick out of this. Anyone with that many piercings would put a glass sex toy front and center, proudly erect, beside the santas and clowns and ceramic crosses purely out of deep and pathological irony. Savers cashiers, I salute you.

And so does the brik-a-brack section.

Savers on Burnet and North Loop, Austin

You don’t want to be this, do you? A young Johnnie Depp, but with Catherine Zeta-Jones’s lips? Nobody wants that.

Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure this isn’t actually endorsing drugs on some level. I mean, she, or possibly he, maybe it–has really managed to slim down. True, there’s the grotesque facial distortion, but it’s a look Joan Rivers seemed to strive for, up until her death.

Yes, she’s still on TV, but the vital functions ceased in the mid-90s. They only animate her for brief “Hollywood Squares”-type appearances, and the occasional guest spot on Sesame Street.

The jury is out on what the complicated arrow thingies portend. They strongly resemble the international , at least the death metal and RenFest chaos, not the particle physics chaos. I’m not sure what Mr. Depp thinks about them. He appears to be introducing them, Vanna White style. “Heeeerre’s Chaos!” *polite applause*

Drugs make you litter. If you take drugs, you’ll end up leaving deflated blue footballs all over a strange periwinkle void.

Plus, you’ll look like Crawford’s screen test for “The Crow.” She would have totally gotten it, but, you know, fallen arches.

Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin

I really wanted to post this to crow about a completely awesome new crapeterium that opened on Lamar and Manchacha, what a magical wonderland of crazy stuff it was, just next door to Far Out Furnishings. I did. It was a cottage crammed full of peculiarities, including this little guy here, who obviously reigned supreme over everything he saw. I would recommend that you drop everything, including your job if need be, to run down there, but they closed. So you could go there and beat on the windows, howl at the dusty piles of amazement that are still inside, just out of reach. But I wouldn’t recommend it, because they are ever so quick with a restraining order.

You’ve heard the old saw, “laughing on the outside, crying on the inside?” This is kind of like that, but no-one’s laughing, and his insides seem to be on the outside, so he’s kind of crying and laughing at the same time, only he’s screaming. Which is a response that I endorse. I’m not sure what he’s wearing on his head, though. Possibly a cheerful yellow squid. I don’t know.

Someone’s grandmother probably made this for her grandson or granddaughter, with her own, loving hands. And maybe the child said “thank you,” or maybe started to cry, until Mom made him or her say “thank you,” but in that terrified voice that says “please save me” in addition to whatever the words might actually express. And dad, dad said, “Yes. It is a good thing that she is in the home, and they lock the door and keep her inside when we leave. Worth…every…penny.”

Brought to you by the tragedy of Far Out, formerly of Manchacha and Lamar :(

Not too many people are bold enough to work in tinfoil, chewing gum, snot and industrial springs this decade. I understand gum and hardware was a major art movement in France in the 1940s, before the abstract expressionists ruined it by throwing great buckets of paint all over everything. It really destroyed the subtlety of the mucus. Tragic, really.

I understand this was loosely based on the artist’s relationship with his mother, and loosely based on Chernobyl, with just a little bit of inspiration from the amazing Lithuanian gold-medal discus throw at the Athens Olympics. Just look at that strong sense of motion. The athlete’s muscles bunching and coiling like…oh, never mind.

We are not ruling out the possibility that this is a deeply errant attempt to raise awareness for National Breast Cancer Prevention month, but we would ask that the artist strictly limit himself to little pink ribbons in the future.

The camera pauses for a moment, and zooms back to reveal the grandeur of…hmm. I think we’re back to Chernobyl again, or some other blasted, hellish wasteland, the conceptual opposite of a treasure map, roads that lead only to…pink.

Traveler, find another road.

Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin

Obviously, it doesn’t count as flagrant trademark violation if you mold the entire thing out of chewing gum, right? Right. This blobby little pustule of a bear seems to have been carved out of a solid, massive mountain of raw “Wrigley’s Chew” ore, and left to stand in his best “Lo, I am Ozymandius, and I love you” pose over the nearby village of lower Crapton. He may not make the town feel any safer, he’s unlikely to come to life when the neighboring countryside is threatened, but he does make your self-esteem a little stronger. Go, you.

Just hang in there, guy! You’ve got so much to live for!

Well, maybe not.

Once again, someone didn’t enjoy their crafts hour, and is going to have to sit in their room while the rest of the group gets to watch “Pleasant Bill and the Theraputic Riders.”

I’m imagining the artist–and I’m giggling a bit as I imagine him–stabbing at the creature’s eyes with a blue-stained, thumb-thick brush, screaming “Stare no more, ursine menace! Your sight I take from thee!!” Paint splatters the wall as the guy’s handlers drag him carefully from the room, hoping to debrush him before he defiles another piece of sculpture.

I’m glad the artist gave him fangs. They’re kind of a nice touch, a bit of menace just in case the bright blue alien face paint job didn’t creep you out enough. At least he could have cared enough to give the poor little guy differentiated toes.

“Charles, are you finished painting your bear?”

“Md’n.”

“What did you say, Charles?”

“I’m d’n.”

“Did you want to finish painting the rest of your bear, Charles? You didn’t finish painting all of him. Do you want to finish painting your bear, Charles?”

*splash*

“Okay, Charles, I guess it’s time to put the paints away.”

Not-so-Tenderheart from the Goodwill on 290 near Goodwill Computers, Old Blue-Eyes from the Salvation Army on 183 near Anderson Mill, Austin

Much about this guy reminds me of a picture collection done by the deeply disturbed. The way his eyes sit in nests of jagged concentric spikes speak volumes, or at least chapters, of A Book of Crafts for the Obsessive-Compulsive. The googly eyes seem a little bit of a cheat, though, as if they really wanted to be made of tinier shells, or little periwinkles leading you ever deeper into the bear’s gaze, coiling tighter and tighter into twin spires of madness. Or some such.

Next guy…not really a “horror,” but I can’t feel that somehow he’s…not like all the other bears. Although he seems intensely eager to come home with you.

Although I guess that depends on how you define “bears.” Certainly, there are a number of entities called “bears” that may wear fetching, and fairly snug, black vests. Though in Austin they tend to wear bright Hawaiian shirts. So, perhaps he is like some of the bears. Certainly, some of the lavender bears. I’m not judging, here.

Though I will judge “sugarloaf.” It seems more “inanimate and prostrate” than “cute and cuddly.” Maybe that’s just me.

Shellbear from the Savers on South Lamar, “Sugarloaf” from the Goodwill near Anderson Mill, Austin

Many dancers would be amazed at the sheer amount of poise and self-control this zebra has. Not just anyone has the willpower to remain en pointe after having one’s legs, and, more importantly, head removed. That takes dedication.

Of course he’s cheating a bit, using that old stump as a brace, but it’s still an impressive trick.

One of the great “chicken and the egg” questions about Goodwill is, is the truly shameful amount of broken, totally unsellable junk on the shelves collateral damage from careless shoppers, or were these things donated like that? If it’s the latter, I want to see the pricing guide for “Zebra, Maimed.” Maybe it’s 60% off if 70% is missing?

I have my eye on a set of coffee mugs at Parmer and I35–it’s listed as $15/Set, and every week it comes closer to “$15/mug.” Maybe there’ll be a small fanfare when they reprice the silly things.

Anyway, maimed zebras.

Savannah legend held many strange tales. Like the story of the hyena that invested large amounts of its personal fortune to a venture capital firm and made a modest income off a small software startup in Senegal. But when the sun set, the old men told of the dark night when fear galloped with a clip…clip…clip… and a conspicuous absence of a whinny. No-one who saw Striped Midnight could ever be the same.

Goodwill on Metric and 183, Austin