Blog Minx

(I was going for a kind of Merchants-of-Venice spin there in the title, but it didn’t really work. Better suggestions on the back of an envelope.)

I went to an event last night that, naturally, sold merchandise. You’ll know about merchandise. You probably have an old rock t-shirt in the closet that you’ve never worn because it wasn’t the right size. Or a coffee cup sitting in the cupboard with some picture of a sports team or star or logo. Or any kids in the family will have a stuffed Tigger or Elmo or Mickey.

I have nothing against merchandise per se. It’s nice to buy a memento of a happy occasion, as a souvenir or present. And fair play to companies who do it (I read something once about George Lucas who negotiated sole rights to merchandising for Star Wars. Merchandising hadn’t caught on yet so the studio thought they were getting a sweet deal. Well, we know how that ended up. Go George!)

I just don’t like that feeling of urgency that washes over me like a tidal wave when I see these products. My brain kicks off a monologue that goes like this:

“Quick! You’re walking past the merchandise! You won’t be able to buy this stuff anywhere else! Look how cute those toys are! Maybe we need the photo book? What about a keyring, that’s not too expensive. It’s only $10!”

The question is: When did my brain become an unpaid affiliate of marketing companies?