Tag Archives: collectibles

Star Wars Collecting : Episode IV

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The danger presented by Star Wars collectibles lies in the fact that there are so @#$%! many of them.  If you try to collect one of everything, you will will be in the poor house for seven generations.  (Yes, I intend to leave my collection to my children to do with as they please.  I don’t expect the curse to go along with it.  My kids are smarter than me.)

But this is only the beginning of the Star Wars crap that I have to share when blogging about collectibles.  These are the Luke, Han, and Leia dolls that I have collected over time  My Kenner Luke and Leia are not pictured here.  Being the oldest 12-inch dolls in my collection, from 1978, they don’t look quite as good as the rest despite my repairs and rehabilitations.   So I actually have five Lukes, two Hans, and four Leias.  I threw in R2D2 because he and slave girl Leia were a set.

It is my intention to show you this soul-crushing collection bit by bit because it can be daunting otherwise.  Stay tuned for further episodes… or be on the look out if you really desire to avoid them.  I do realize that old men who play with dolls are a little off and likely have toxic cooties.

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Filed under collecting, doll collecting, photo paffoonies, Star Wars

Nutsy Noodle is Playing with Dolls Again

Today, while buying food for the dog, I bought another toy.  I was going through the bargain shelves at Wal-Mart where the toys that didn’t fully survive the Christmas rush were being sold off at bargain prices.  Barbie dolls and girly stuff get opened and trashed far more often than action figures, so that’s exactly what I found.  (Okay, not exactly… but it is girly stuff… and it’s enough Barbie-like that I can buy it for the Barbie shelf… unless I have to start calling myself a Brony… oh, shudder… not that!)

Confession time:  It is Rainbow Dash, an Equestria Girl doll.  (I know, I know… Mutant My Little Pony critters that have been somehow radioactively transformed into a junior-high-type girl-thing/mutant horror.  Complete with radioactively enhanced cuteness genes.)  And it was not mint in package (the sacred goal of collectors), it was trash that Wal-Mart sold to me instead of throwing her in the garbage.  There was damage to the box as some goofy little girl (or even more worrisome, little boy) had tried to pull out pieces to steal.  Unlike Pinkie Pie, though, Rainbow still had all her limbs and accessories.  Here she is with a relatively unscathed back of the package.

Rainbow Dash

The second picture is for dramatic lighting effects.Rainbow Dash22

She also has all three attachable/detachable pony tails… but no actual way to attach them to her derriere like a proper pony.

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I realize I haven’t yet solved for you the real mystery; “Why did Nutsy Noodle spend money on a garbage-pail, throwaway toy that his beloved daughter, the Princess, is now too old to play with and doesn’t even want?”  Well, I collect dolls, you see, and a very valuable part of this purchase was the salvage that laymen (a term that here means “sane people” that don’t buy unwanted toys) don’t realize are valuable.

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These little clear-plastic bands can be used in a multitude of ways when displaying the “action figure” in question.  They hold plastic phasers in otherwise klunky doll hands.  Accessories are held in place.  My forty-year-old Captain Action Superman needs them to hold the split in his red, blue, and gold tights together, thus saving his privates (which here means exposed joints) from freezing off.  To buy these things separately would cost more than Rainbow Dash cost to rescue from the trash.  I salvaged ten of them from her package.

Besides.  I had a strange urge to play with her.

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No! No! No!  It’s not what you are thinking.  Besides, you can clearly see that her body is molded with built-in underwear!  It’s just that, um, with dolls like this (even G.I. Joe’s when you’re talking twelve-inch), part of the fun is changing their wardrobe.  I had to see if I was wrong about the clothing from Skipper and Stacie (Barbie’s Sisters) fitting.  And they do.

Rainbow Dash 3

Isn’t that precious?  She flew over to sit on my hat.  Of course, Stacie’s friend, Janet, didn’t think so.  She is mad and threatens to beat the crap out of Rainbow if she doesn’t get her clothes back.  No way will she ever trade for that horrible rainbow-stew-thing of a dress that RD came in.  And besides, that dress is only two pieces, and easily copied in some color far less vomit-inducing.  Of course, my sewing machine is still quite broken.

Rainbow Dash 4

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Filed under doll collecting, humor, photo paffoonies

The Rest of the Star Trek Collection

I am guilty of owning more dolls in my Star Trek collection.  Here is the Next Generation set.

20141208_144528  You may notice that I still have work to do.  No Commander Data… No Geordy La Forge…  No Wesley Crusher (if such a doll even exists)…  These figures are all dressed for a TNG movie that practically nobody liked.

I also have two Star Trek Voyager dolls, Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine.

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It is probable that no other figures from this series exist in twelve inches.

Captain Sisko is the only figure I have ever seen for Deep Space Nine, though I have a suspicion that more exist, at least the female crew members, and maybe that wonderfully devious Ferengi Quark.

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Filed under collecting, doll collecting, goofiness, humor

Self Portrait and Mildly Broken Heart

DSCN5418  Hermoine, Vintage Ricky, and Vintage Skipper are inspecting my heart monitor in this silly Paffooney  Photo.  I have been wearing the thing since Monday to hopefully detect an irregular heart-beat problem.  It’s kinda like when you hear a knocking noise in the engine, but when you take it in to the car dealer, you can’t get it to make that sound even once.  Two trips to the doctor and two EKG’s have not been enough to fix the knocking in my engine, and so I am still on a heart-attack/stroke watch.  Four times in the last two nights I have felt the racing heartbeat and painful tugging sensation in my chest that could spell the instant end.  But I am not worried.  I now have the opportunity to lay in my bed all day and play with my toys… err… admire my collection.  I apologize for Ricky not putting on proper clothes for this post, but they haven’t made clothes for a doll like him since the early seventies.  They are a little hard to come by.  And they always sold Barbie dolls in bathing suits when he was new to the world.  So he goes about mostly naked and I have to apologize for him whenever we are in polite company.

“So, Mickey,” you are probably saying to yourself, “it’s a heart problem, not a brain problem, right?”

Well, if my hyperactive butterfly of a heart sends a clot the wrong direction, it could be a stroke, a brain-curdling, word-mincing, vegetable-making sort of brain problem.  If it’s all the same to God, I’d much rather have a heart attack, thank you.

I am really, honestly not worried though.  My career is ended.  I can no longer get up in front of a classroom, a basically captive audience, and inflict upon them a never-ending spiel of word-wit and vocabulary-bloating that made kids laugh and love my class (based on the fact that even though they thought they were avoiding learning to write and read and speak in my English Class, we were actually practicing those things bell to bell).  Though I miss it so terribly it probably isn’t helping my current condition, I really have done my job and taken my best shot at winning the ongoing War Against Ignorance.  I actually make more money now on my full retirement pension than I was making month to month as a teacher.  (Mostly due to deductions for health problems and absences from work).  I have the chance to draw some and paint some and write a lot now.  I can do more story-telling of the written-down variety, and not waste my tall tales in the very absorbent air of the classroom.  I get to joke about my condition more, and hide my rotted out hulk of a body behind a computer screen so no one has to cringe while looking at my fuzzy, spotty old form.  I can use words to be beautiful in the reader’s mind’s eye once more.  Oh, and I made the mistake of promising to show you a self portrait.  So, try to keep your lunch down, because here it is;

Self Portrait

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Filed under health, humor, Mickey, Paffooney, philosophy, photos

Captain Action, Space Hero

Captain Action, Space Hero

One of the things I find so fascinating about Captain Action is the way he portrays space heroes from comic strips that were created long before I was born. Here you see Flash Gordon (the mask is from 1967, the rest of the costume comes from Playing Mantis in 2003.)
Buck Rogers from the 25th Century (everything here is either a recreation by hobbyists or a replacement part) stands next to him.

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March 7, 2014 · 2:46 am

Captain Action, Mighty Hero

Captain Action, Mighty Hero

I was a child of the 1960’s. I was 10 in 1966. In 1967 I received a Captain Action action figure for my birthday. Neither of these figures are the original one, since he is now resting in pieces. (I do have all the pieces.) The Spiderman suit is part of a Christmas gift from 1968, though not the mask and the boots. Superman was a rare find as a collector in about 2003. His boots are held together with tape and rubber bands, but the rest of the costume is in very good shape. The Lost in Space Robot came from E-Bay, and I got him for only four dollars. Needless to say, these things are priceless to the child who still lives inside me. I play with them often.

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March 6, 2014 · 2:01 am

From My Stuffed Animal Collection; Mama Clown and Baby Clown

From My Stuffed Animal Collection; Mama Clown and Baby Clown

Baby Clown was once my oldest son’s favorite woobie. He doesn’t remember that time when he was two and three, but he did say that these clowns now creep him out.

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October 22, 2013 · 11:23 pm