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John Sciacca Writes...

Features, Reviews and a Blog by John Sciacca

Random Thoughts (Blog)

Random Thoughts (Blog)

Sky Mall 3.0 - You give because you love!

Posted on September 27, 2010 at 6:28 PM

Sky Mall 3.0 – You because you love! Did some marathon plane flying lately and, of course, you know what that means. A new Sky Mall! My seatback was rockin’ the Holiday 2010 edition, and, once again, Sky Mall did NOT disappoint! I am thinking of elevating Sky Mall to Death and Taxes status as a sure thing. If you’re new to my love for all things Sky Mall, please check out my first post, Sky, Mall, Sky Mall, Totally Cool, Excellent! and my second Sky Mall 2.0

 

Since I have so many items to talk about, I’m going to just get right into it. (I’d say “Enjoy!” but I know that would only be unnecessarily redundant and just further keep you from the greatness which is The Mall.)

 

Ninja Climbing Glove

I saw this picture and at first I was all, “Sweet! Sky Mall has scoured feudal Japan and discovered authentic Ninja climbing gloves! Sky Mall, you fabulous bastards!” But then I saw the caption and that they were calling it an “arthritis pain relieving glove.” Then I read the text and saw that these actually ARE Ninja gloves, just cleverly disguised so not everyone will go all Ninja at once. “Stimulates blood circulation in the hands…while you perform your daily routine.” Yeah. When that routine involves neck-chopping and Ninja-starring people in the face! “Allow hands to breath to ensure comfort during extended wear.” Like when you are hanging upside down on some baddies ceiling for like 3 weeks waiting for him to come home so you can drop down on him and Ninja-attack! “Gloves leave your fingertips exposed…allowing you to grasp objects…while maintaining tactility.” Like when you’re fingertip climbing up the side of a building and then need to execute a quick double eye-gouge and then grasp an object like your katana! You know what I’m saying, Ninjas.

 

Golf Ball Trebuchet

Want to know how I personally “Hurl a Golf Ball Over 200 Feet”? I call it a sand wedge. And I will rain balls down on your head with way more “Death From Above!” precision and accuracy than this trebuchet thing. (Which, for those of you who have never played WoW or EQ or any other fantasy type gaming, is not pronounced tree-bucket by the way.)

 

Magic Gas Booster

Call me a hardened skeptic, but I just can’t see how “stabilizing the electrical current flowing to the computer that controls the engine’s fuel injection system” by plugging this into a cigarette lighter can improve gas mileage by 18%. And that even if my fuel injection system DID need compu-stabilizing, I just don't see how plugging something into the cigarette lighter is going to do it. I’m throwing a Red Flag BS penalty on you for this one Sky Mall! (However, if you want to send me a free sample to TRY out, I'll be happy to put my skepticism on hold and provide a fully fair and balanced review. Just putting it out there, Sky Mall!)

 

Stress Free Brain Helmet

In my many – and I do mean MANY – perusals through the o’le Mall in the Sky, I have noticed a *real* pattern of items. It seems that Sky Mall’s target audience is incredibly stiff and sore and needs every manner of massager and stress relief that modern science is capable of producing. When normal Western science fails the Sky Mall reader, they turn to the Black Arts of technology. Thus I give you, the Dr.Xavier (or Locutus of Borg) Head Massager. Somehow wearing this thing is supposed to provide “healthier stress relief.” Maybe because your mind is taken off your problems and focused on what a doucheington you look like. Just a guess.

 

Rockstar Sleepwear

OK. I am NOT a Rockstar. But I’m to believe anything that I’ve ever learned from watching MTV and Beyond the Music and all those biographies, then I am pretty sure that Rockstars do NOT wear pajamas. Ever. But especially when they are in bed. Where they go to NEVER actually sleep. Because they are naked. And covered with honey and cocaine. And surrounded by a harem of adoring fans. Who also aren’t wearing any pajamas. Because nothing says Rockstar like sleeping commando. And a dude in the picture? Yeah. Maybe if it's a Ricky Martin and George Michael Rockstar pajama party.

 

Resi Daily Thrombosis Sock

This is for Kirsten as it is possibly the last line of defense for keeping her raging deep vein thrombosis at bay after spending three consecutive 24 hour days in the Resi Daily Room slowly allowing her backside to skin-meld into that black leather chair at a molecular level. Where any shifting of body weight allowed you to hear the compressed blood cells actually harkening out in pain. However, it didn’t slow her for even a second from barking out commands like a power-crazed, yet smiling and snarkstery dictator.

“Kirsten. Nice black shoes.”

“I’m not wearing any shoes. Or socks. Those are my feet. I’ve shunted blood flow from all non-essential Daily required organs like brain and typing fingers. And I hear you talking but I don’t see you carrying my Starbucks.”

“But you said you stopped drinking coffee.”

“I changed my mind. Now…GET OUT! Go write something about antennas! And if you don’t have a Starbucks in your hands the next time I see you, you’ll PRAY for another antenna press conference!”

“All that yelling isn’t good for your thrombosis. Put on your Zensah compression sleeve.”

“You do not want to make me roll this chair over there!”

 

Wizard’s Wand Remote

Now, I guess if you discovered an Afrikaans Bush Man, and you somehow rendered him unconscious and then plucked him from his tribal village and plopped him into a modern living room, then – and ONLY then – would trying to trick someone that you were a Wizard and were using sorcery to operate your audio/video gear be an amusing gag. (Of course, his people would just boil you in a large pot and then feed you to the hogs as is the custom of competing magic-men in such tribes.) For everyone else, spending $100 on something that has 13 programmable commands executed by some kind of random wrist flick or arm movement sounds like the gayest form of magic ever. Like a pink leather clad Siegfried and Roy. And you know that like half the time you are going to change the channel when you want to raise the volume. Some Wizard you are.

 

Even the Force Says, “No, Luke!”

Just when you thought that it wasn’t possible to elevate Star Wars’ nerdery to a higher plane, Sky Mall comes through. I’m not sure what is more geeky, the lightsaber chopsticks (which would be the ONLY thing that the people purchasing this would have that is 9-inches long, if you get my drift, and I know that you all do) or the Tauntaun sleeping bag. No. Wait. I’m sure. It’s the sleeping bag. Because who among us hasn’t ever wanted to simulate slicing open a Tauntaun, and climbing inside with all those warm and ropey guts. Ladies, it looks big enough for two! (Savvy readers will note just the edge of the words "Bikini Apron" which was excluded as it is a totally acceptable use of Star Wars merchandising.)

 

Your Face has been bad! Shame it into submission!

Here’s how it works: Just snug this baby over your face. Then perform simple face movements. Then go and stand in front of the mirror and scream, “Face! I hate you! You’ve never done a single good thing for me! And until you stop sagging, so help me, God, I am going to keep wearing this thing!” Then slap that bitch face as hard as you can. Note: Actually speaking with Face Trainer is discouraged as your mouth is concealed behind Face Trainer and chin is forced into a rigid, lock-jaw position. As is 17% of your left eye.

 

Bring us the NEW Wine!

With this Aging Accelerator, even the finest box wine can be deliciously aged into a less fine box vinegar in no time! I love the girl’s expression too. It seems to say ever so slyly, “I serve my ignorant peasant friends swill while I sip a similarly colored Reserve Burgundy, and they are none the wiser! Want a sip, good looking man-stranger? Bwa-ha-ha!” PS: I did not get any ideas while writing this. I can’t explain why the wine I’m drinking looks, smells and tastes completely different from the wine you’re drinking. That is just the magical mystery of the Aging Accelerator. Now quiet before I age your face 10 years!

 

No joke! I actually *really* want this

OK. A break from play time for a second. As an American male whose adolescence peaked in the ‘80s, arcade videogames played a huge role in my formative years. Here’s a 100 games packed into one awesomely authentic cabinet. Respect, Sky Mall. Respect.

 

If only I could lounge around in a blanket. Everywhere!

Sky Mall readers take their blanketed comfort *very* seriously. Like if they made a Slanket tuxedo, it would be the pinnacle of Sky Mall fashion, toasted with magically aged wine everywhere. For the ladies out there is the Wish Wrap. Somehow they have managed to turn a seemingly everyday, found-on-every-garment-ever pocket into a “Wish Pocket” that lets you “carry your fondest wishes with you wherever you go.” Things like, "I wish I wasn't so depressed all the time," or "I wish I had made better decisions with my life," or "I wish that no one sees me wearing the Brown Wish Wrap," or "I wish that I had remembered to grab my keys when I was filling out this Wish Card." Alternatively, the Wish Pocket can be used to actually carry your car keys. Or a pack of smoker’s gum. Or pretty much anything else you can cram into a regular, non-Wish related pocket. Also it is “comfortable being work while you surf the net as it is when you run to the grocery store.” You know, for when you’re forced to confront your agoraphobia and leave the dark, musty, old-lady smell of your hoarder pit. And with the hoodie-Footie, never let it be set that Sky Mall doesn’t cater to the entire family. Though, seriously, if there is a guy out there that would actually wear this, he isn’t married. At least not to a woman.

 

Here, son! Let me just shoot this into your face!

I think what I love best about this add is the line “unlike other marshmallow blasters” which just lets you know that the Sky Mall crew has scoured the planet checking EVERY marshmallow blaster to ensure that this baby lives up. Also I’m not sure if I’m impressed or just saddened that it includes a quasi-laser sight to “help locate a target for accuracy.” Somewhere, Ray Boehm and Eric Haney just died a little more inside. (Then quickly recovered and zippered the target, double-tap to center mass and letting the pistol naturally work its way up. Google them. It’ll make sense.)

 

If James Bond were a stalking douche perv…

If there is anything that a Sky Mall reader loves with the same passion of massaging units, then it is spy gadgets. You’ll remember all manner of covert recording and data mining tools from the previous posts, but sometimes seeing isn’t believing. You must hear what those secret, talking voices are saying about you. Also does the line “it’s not always…prudent to make every meeting” even make sense?

“Hey, Dick! Got that big meeting on industrial smoothing coming up. See ya there, right?”

“No, Harry. I’m thinking I should just skip that one.”

“Really. I mean the whole smoothing team is gonna be there. This is the meeting we’ve all been prepping for. I’ve got a whole Powerpoint I’m gonna present. LOTS of talking.”

“Yeah. No. Just doesn’t seem prudent. At this juncture.”

Also, if it were a MEETING, would you really have to secretly record it. Couldn’t you just use like a regular tape recorder? This seems way more of a place-beside-bed-table kind of device. And, could that guy in the picture look ANY more creepy? You just know that what he is listening in on is really the ladies restroom. And you can tell from his freak-eyed stare that he is prepared to stay on post for as long as it takes. And I’m not saying he’s doing anything, but, uh, we can only see one hand...

 

Her hot body secret, men? She’s a fatty!

I’m glad I’m married. Because if I were still dating, then items like these would terrify me that you would get to the point of unwrapping your special lady package and find out that she had actually been stuffed into a Leonisa sausage casing, where her body is waiting to explode from the tightened spandex like a horrifying Jabba cellulite bomb. The “powernet fabric to keep your bulges under wraps and a breathable microfiber” so that your big-lady sweat doesn’t frighten away potential suitors. Also, you know that lady in the picture actually has a rocking, non-Leonisa body and was probably like, “You want that I should wear special fat lady costume? Is right, yes? This is for the ladies trick the mens?”

 

“World’s XXX” in the title. Gets ‘em every time!

Just because something is the “World’s XXX” doesn’t mean that it is good or that you have to buy it. I have looked at this thing a few times and I still don’t get it. It angles your computer like 1-inch? Couldn’t I just use like some stacked nickels to do the same thing? And it weighs 5.5 ounces? That is nearly one-half pound. For a giant, thin stick that you carry around, it seems pretty pointless. Then I read the final caption: made from Hylite. This is a Ninja killing weapon people, discussed as whatever this thing is supposed to be. Ninjas, they ARE everywhere!

 

Raise the ante on Crazy Cat Lady

Sure, everyone loves a Crazy Cat Lady who lives in a house filled with cats and cat feces and cat urine and how mutters incoherently until the day that she dies and leaves her millions to the cats. But, let’s be honest, that is a little played out. Sock Monkey is a whole new kind of crazy, and nothing is going to get you on board this train quicker than wearing this set. Preferably in summer time. And with nothing else. That’s the kind of next-gen crazy 2.0 that is gonna really get you noticed.

 

The secret to a great handshake? Forcing bowel evacuation with Asscupuncture!

This one is SO great, that I have to run three images. The first is the overall hand pressure/accu-point chart that accompanies whatever demonized item Sky Mall is actually hawking here. The second and third images are blow-ups of the crucial areas to ensure optimal handshake potency!

 

 

So, the key to a truly memorable handshake is to first squeeze the tip of the other person’s thumb as forcefully as discretion will allow. I recommend maintaining strict eye contact during this, as you should be able to identify the precise moment that you have successfully prepared the unsuspecting anus for the onslaught that you are about to bring. (Be mindful of the area where the thumb meets the palm. Overly exciting this can rile up “Coffee-ground Vomitus” which sounds like it could cause more harm than good)

 

Now to complete the finishing move more insidious and far messier than anything ever found in Mortal Kombat, follow these next handshake steps carefully. Now that the anus has been suitably enraged, activated and brought to a heightened state of self-awareness, you simultaneously massage the lower wrist and pinky side of the proffered hand area. (Stay away from thumb side of hand; there is no point in giving your poor victim a needless stroke! Though feel free to give him a quick jab in the Impotence button for added laughs.) You will concurrently make both his internal AND external hemorrhoids incendiary, inflame their colon and then give a uncontrolled gush of diarrhea coup-de-grace. Flawless victory! (Granted, this level of handshaking intimacy may likely end up with you getting punched or branded as the queerest handshake artist ever. So, use with care.)

Categories: September 2010, Bizarre

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