I would have gotten the chastity belt, but isn't that like closing the barn door after the horse has run off?

Sure, a chastity belt, but you'd think there would be at least one hairshirt for sale? 

No one appreciates the fashion of corporal mortification anymore . . .

Today I went to the 127 Corridor Sale.  Billed as the world's largest yard sale, it is 675 mile long, from Michigan to Alabama.  I read that it is covered by HGTV, but I am guessing that they avoid the shots of piles of used baby clothes, Nazi memorabilia, mounds of plastic toys and dirty stuffed animals, and the one guy who was selling some sort of homemade drink packaged in used Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice jars.

Oh, but like any yard sale, you know you have to pick your way through a lot of shit to find that gold nugget.  I have to admit, I went with the following shopping list:

1.  A home bar for the family room.

2.  A stuffed, dead animal.

3.  Folk art.

I was disappointed that the third item was not widely visible, unless you consider Cujo on Velvet, or metal twisted into whimsical creatures for your garden, or simply a piece done by someone who took the challenge to "Draw the Pirate" on a matchbook and no one was kind enough to tell them the truth.  Mind you, it's not as if I traversed the entire 675 miles, so maybe somewhere there could have been something I would add to my collection.

So I said, "Fetch it yourself, feeble human!"

I did find some etchings on scrimshaw, said to be antique pieces, that were unusual.  Asian erotica.  Oh yeah, I saw those and thought, "Man, who's getting married next?"  Because let's face it, you wrap up one of those and I guanrantee you, when the combined families get together at the bride's mother's house afterwards to open presents, that's gonna stand out from the salad bowls and fondue sets, I tell you what.

Shut up, the dollar is there for scale.  If anyone can tell me what the writing says on top, I'd be much obliged.

I asked the guy selling them - who could have played the lead character in Flannery O'Connor's Wise Blood if they ever bring it to the big screen - where he got them.  "This fellow sold them to me, said they were old, " he said.  "But he's in a Malaysian prison now.  He got caught trying to smuggle out mastadon teeth.  I guess them fellers get picky about million-year-old stuff leaving their country.  But he'll get out.  I'll see him again."  At that point, I felt $20 was worth the story alone, so I bought the one pictured above. 

I'm gonna count it as "folk art."

I soon realized that even if I found a bar, I had no way of getting it home, so I wasn't concerned about not finding one.  But my daughter has always wanted a stuffed, dead animal, preferably a deer head.  Dolly Girl thinks a deer head, trucker hat, and Mardi Gras beads are fine home decor (n.b.:  it comes from her father's side), but I told her that she could get one so logn as it was tasetfully decoarted for the various holidays throughout the year (and not displayed in her room where it would undoubtedly be turned into a clothing rack). 

We named him Buck.

Ultimately, I found a gent that had a nice one, and I talked him down to $85 from $100.  Listen, D.G. just got into Geometry Honors for her upcoming freshman year and her 14th birthday sort of fell behind all the stuff going on with our move, so I felt it was a small price to pay for my child's happiness.  Sadly, we were unable to find Moe (my 10-year-old son) the Transformer he wanted, but he got a game controller, so he did not go home empty-handed.

When the deer head came into the house, the dogs were both curious to see what it was.  So I figured a lesson was in order.  "Do you know what this is?  This was a bad dog!  A BAD DOG!  And this is what happens to BAD DOGS!"  I don't think it took.

My advice:  bring cash, bring sunblock, bring patience, but don't bring kids.