by Lore Sjöberg

Bra Sizer
This is a device -- perfect for tucking into a purse or utility belt -- which informs one of one's bra size. Clever and all, but I personally don't wear bras except that one time, and all my female friends know their bra size already. But I'm sure it will come in handy if I ever take up writing cheap porn: "Rhiannon unbuttoned her clown outfit to reveal her firm breasts, which were, hold on, let's say 34D." D+

Soap
The soap in question came as part of one of those skin care systems that promise to invigorate your skin and reassure your pores or somesuch. The problem is that it's clear glycerine soap. Completely colorless. Which means that in the water it instantly turns invisible, making it incredibly likely that you'll slip on it and bang your head against your waterproof radio and as the surgeon cuts into your skull to relieve the swelling he'll admire your beautiful skin. D

Elvis Catalog
Lots of interesting crap in here. Like a cookie jar in the shape of Elvis, so that you can pretend you're retrieving baked goods from the torso of the King himself. Like clothing so ugly even Presley wouldn't wear it, each item nonetheless emblazoned with his signature. Perhaps the most off-putting is a CD of Looney Tunes characters singing Elvis songs. I can't bear to imagine what Elmer Fudd singing "Love Me Tender" must sound like. Oh wait, it'd probably sound a lot like Cyndi Lauper. B+

Shoe Catalog
Not just your ordinary shoe catalog, this was comprised of shoes that are a) high-heeled, b) tacky, and c) suspiciously large. Now, all the models in the catalog were women, but I'm not sure the majority of the buyers are, if you follow me. But apparently you can't just label your catalog "SHOES FOR BURLY GUYS IN DRAG" in the current political climate, so they have to go through the same sad pretense that Playgirl has been living with for decades. C

Light Bulb
At first I was pleased that some light bulb manufacturer had seen fit to send us a free sample, but the note enclosed informed me that it was actually the packaging that I was supposed to be impressed with, given that it had protected the light bulb from the slings and/or arrows of the US Postal Service. So of course I took this as a personal challenge, put the lightbulb back in the package, and proceeded to stomp on it right there in the post office like some crazed bridegroom at a Jewish wedding. I won. The package may have stood up to cross-country transport, but it can't endure the fury of a Shuttlecock. B