Friday, October 24, 2008

808s and Heartbreak



Okay, here is another new post. It is once again a recycled paper from my writing class. Its a so-so essay that I wrote last night from the hours of 2-6:17 a.m. I have now been up for the past twenty-seven hours straight. The paper is an analytical essay in which you ask yourself a question, then proceed to answer it. I asked how much my Beanie Babies were worth. Since Wikipedia was expelled as a formidable source, understandably so, nevertheless it was difficult to find legitimate information on my topic. So I basically, just went on Ebay and found one stat. You may as well call me Tony Reali. Anyway, here it goes, once again, it's mediocre.

Now that it’s 2008, the 90s satellite should detach itself from the present and become its own decade in history. New Kids on the Block had a bunch of hits, Nancy Kerrigan was struck, Michael Johnson struck gold in Atlanta and on his feet, and as far as fidelity, everyone’s favorite Arkansan simply struck out. These events, along with some of the most watched, recorded, or followed happenings in history took place in the 90s. But nothing took the spotlight more than the plush critters we all used to and still probably have: Beanie Babies. Beanie Babies, remembered for their vestigial, yet wholly important heart-shaped tags, cuddly frames, and sweeping, universal appeal captivated an adolescent generation, and ultimately translated into parents spending incredulous amounts of money to buy their child plush morsels of satisfaction. But like the 90s staple VH1 inquires— “Where are they now?” Consumers who bought innumerable amounts of Beanie Babies have nothing left to show for their fanaticism but useless novelties, and are left to inquisitively wonder: “How much are my Beanie Babies worth?”

Launched in 1993, Beanie Babies made it big by staying small. Their creator, Ty Warner used several marketing strategies for this success; namely, keeping the Beanie Babies out of monopolized toy stores. Rather they were sold for less than $10 in specialty gift shops. In the early years, they went highly unnoticed with only nine models, but popularity heightened quickly. They flew under the radar, a tactic that ultimately ushered in success. They were more falsetto than fad. With cheap prices, market demand began to increase, and Ty Warner pulled the stuffed animals off the shelf faster than Vanilla Ice went platinum. Warner retired them, only to mass produce many more. In this cyclical fashion, Beanie Babies became increasingly popular, and by Christmas of 1995 these basic toys became a cultural phenomenon (Dyson).

Everyone wanted in. The menagerie of Beanie Babies increased from the Original Nine to over forty in a year. (Dyson). First Edition, became Second Edition, which became Special Edition, and of course, you always needed mint condition. Special interest Beanie Babies were incorporated: Princess Diana, Jerry Garcia, the Easter Bunny— all were immortalized in stuffed animal history. Naturally, McDonald’s shrewd eye for greasy consumerism even pandered the exploitation. Impressible parents drove to every McDonald’s in the city to purchase a happy meal with the special edition “Teenie Beenies” for an additional $1.99 (Dyson). These plastic-wrapped miniatures became all the rage just as quickly as their larger counterparts. Raking in $250 million in 2006 alone, needless to say, Ty Warner controlled the toy market.

The unforeseen Beanie Baby craze rocked the nation, but the romp fizzled after roughly six years when, in 1999, Ty Warner released a bear called “The End” signaling the end of an era (Dyson). Later, new collections were developed but maniacal craze was no longer existent. Incessant amounts of money spent on these toys seemed to have gone to waste. In fact, many people bought them solely as prospectors attempting to profit off of them as future collector items. Unfortunately for them, acute consequences were waiting on the other side of the millennium.

In attempts to unload some of their Beanie Babies, many people list them at online auction sites such as Ebay or Amazon. Most remain unsold. If the stuffed animals are bought, it is usually at minimal price. Going rates for mint condition Beanie Babies barely top $2, if they are even sold, a mere fraction of the initial investment (“Beanie Babies”). One of these toys with a bent or missing tag won’t even be marketable. Other collectors try to package their sets, but still can barely get more than $20 for multiple models (“Beanie Babies”). Clearly, they are as worthless as those Pokemon cards gathering dust in the drawer. Most Beanie Babies are nothing more than a nose diving fad.

Certain, rare models are worth money though. In the 90s, the average consumer may have unknowingly purchased a defected toy or one of the original editions. Randomly, the consumer may have paid a small price for a grand fortune. High demand was created for Princess Diana Bear with the wrong pellets inside, and for wrongly colored Chocolate the Moose, but those gaffes were quickly ameliorated by Ty Warner Inc., making those models rare, yet valuable. Upper-echelon collectors will have to shell out $6,999.99 for #1 Bear (“Retired Beanie Babies”). Few Beanie Babies have this type of worth though, and a vast majority can be considered invaluable.

Merely orphaned on their shelves, Beanie Babies became somewhat of an afterthought. The craze was so grandiose, that inversely their importance rapidly declined when the fad cooled. It’s not that they are altogether worthless, but the high expectations for resale value and collector status remain unfulfilled. Those that spent hundreds of dollars collecting Beanie Babies have to wonder what they were thinking over ten years ago. Nevertheless, these cuddly creatures still carry great childhood memories. So look back with a fond mind and a pristine heart— after all, I know your Beanie Baby still has one.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Almost...


Okay, this next post is to satisfy the easily disappointed critics. I wrote this paper for my writing class at U of M. The first half was crafted in a thirty-five minute time span between classes right before the rough draft was due- quite reminiscent of other stunts I've pulled in the past. It's called Home.

Living in a dormitory is quintessentially collegiate. Freedom from parental restriction, repulsive nearly artificial cafeteria food, and community showers are all part of the grimy college experience. I paid my dues. Dorm life was so difficult for me, but I persevered. The minutes passed by and by, drowned in the omnipresent hum of the air-conditioning wall unit. Faced with so much to do and an environment with no capacity to do it, I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. The arduous task of dorm life was the most taxing, everlasting experience ever. Then orientation was over. Two days in a dorm room were enough. I bought a condo.
In actuality it was my friend Chuck’s parents who paid for it, but I was certainly going to be living there. Faced with initial indecision when the offer was first submitted, my decision was finalized after the orientation mishap. My conversations about college were peppered with warnings about missing out on the dorm experience. Nevertheless the decision was made. One month into school, living in a condo has already paid generous dividends and is a highly recommendable alternative to a dormitory.
A condo away from the flippant rebellion of a dorm room is much more conducive to studying. Not only the quiet calm of a literal home, but also the general environment bolster the atmosphere. Studying at 70 Fahrenheit while sipping on Evian from the GE Profile refrigerator is simply more comfortable than craning your neck under your lofted bunk bed. The primary principle of college is education. The so-called dorm experience is everything pejorative to this finality. Admittedly, I will miss out on certain positives of the dorm such as meeting people and that phantom, enigmatic experience, but living in the condo promotes a much better atmosphere for the primary aspect of school- studying.
The overall cleanliness factor of the condo also far outweighs dorm room life. My daily routine is marked by zealous teeth brushing, hair washing, crevice cleansing, hand sanitizing hygiene. I would rather do so in my personal domain, not in an industrial sink cleaned every other Tuesday. At the dormitory, cafeteria dishes are carelessly tossed at workers. At least I carelessly wash them myself. Mom isn’t around anymore. So cleaning toilets and mopping the floor have become weekly routine. Perhaps easily overlooked, the condo actually promotes independence and self-sufficiency.
This independence translates to my new arena: the kitchen. Living in a condo rests the weight of cooking on my shoulders. While a meal plan is convenient and affordable, these cursory advantages are eclipsed when thoughtfully considered. You can’t put a price on health. The freshman fifteen isn’t reference to the number of credits you have. Cafeteria food is watered down fast food. Fried, battered, or greased- take your pick, because chances are that’s what is being served today. Living in the condo removes the comfort of walking to the cafeteria, and if this opportunity is properly utilized offers a great opportunity for health improvement. Cooking and cleaning do not loom over studies. In fact, they help with organization and balancing an already newfound busy schedule. Living in a condo grants true independent experience.
The innumerable warnings and criticisms about missing out on dorm life have rung empty. Understandably, going to college is a life-altering experience. Some students cope with instability and insecurity, while others thrive tremendously. Dorm experience universalizes the freshman condition. It is a common denominator, a rite of passage. College veterans never forget their first year in the dorms: where they met their new best friend or participated in endless shenanigans. This is the proverbial experience encompassing dorm room living. But these invaluable experiences are not exclusive to living in a dorm. Classrooms, football games, and weekend activities all provide enough opportunity for meeting friends. As a generality, dorm room living is a pitfall for the positive behaviors a condo exhibits. Academics as the cardinal concern are addressed much more easily in the private condo setting.
Living in a condo my freshman year has offered many unique experiences and avenues. Three weeks into the school year, positive aspects are already shining through the veil of doubt. The comfort of home, the independence of college, and the responsibility of both are all encompassed into condo life. Living in a condo is by no means an elitist measure or a vain attempt at the good life. It is simply an opportunity taken advantage of. My condo is a renowned library, a hot dance floor, a chic coffee spot, a sophisticated Manhattan loft, it’s more than quintessential, it’s home.