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...BUT WHEN HE GOT THERE, THE CUPBOARD WAS BAREI had wanted to start this column with a catchy headline, like "Toy Report From Southwestern Florida." Short, punchy, compelling. Unfortunately, there are no toys in Southwestern Florida. Which would render such a toy report moot. Sigh. Out goes the headline. Now, this may have a lot to do with the demographics of my vacation surroundings: I was visiting dear old mom, in retirement with dear older step-dad, and their community (Long Boat Key, a small island off the western Florida coast sitting peacefully -- at least last week -- in the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico) is not what you might call a spring chicken coop. More like a batty old bird cage. The retirement condos come in all shapes and sizes, but they have one thing in common: they're retirement condos, full of older people. Now, I have nothing against our venerable seniors. No; that's not true. I do have one thing against them: they have little or no interest in toys. Which means that, free market economics being what they are, the toy sellers have no interest in them. And that little fact leads to one of the roots of the problem: no toy stores. Well, not many. Not enough. The problem's other root is an all-too-common one: scalpers. You know, the kind of dealers who get their stock from other retailers. Self-righteous intermediaries who do us all the dubious favor of taking hard-to-find items from the retail shelves (where, if they had been left, they wouldn't in fact *be* hard to find) and turning around to re-sell same at prodigious markup (sometimes 2 or 3 times the original retail value). But you see, they do it for our own good. And for the glory of capitalist ideals. In other industries these fine people are called "profiteers." (If I bought all the diesel fuel in a particular locale and set up to resell it on the roadside at twice my cost, I'd find myself in the hoosegow by sundown -- if I were lucky enough to escape hanging). But if you listen to their rhetoric, in the toy world they are the caretakers of the toy buying public. Our fairy godmothers, cherubs of the resale market. I guess I, for one, am just not grateful enough for the scalpers' efforts on our collective behalf. Fool that I am, I take my small-minded pleasure in finding the toys I want at retail prices on regular market shelves. I guess I'm just too thick to appreciate the finer points of capitalism, and the joys of paying $15 for a five dollar item, off a table where twelve of the one figure I want sit amidst night armies other shortpacks. Yes, the "original sin" of this phenomenon can be traced up to the manufacturers themselves. But please; there is no shortpacking of sin. Plenty to go around, and believe me, it does. The bottom line for me is this: regarding new toys, don't pay scalper prices to scalping dealers. It is blackmail, no matter how much "free market" jargon you layer upon it. Come to think of it, the practice of scalping retail figures from someone else's retail establishment pretty much takes the "free" right out of the free market -- don'tcha think? I sure do.... Rise up, my brethren and sistren! Throw off your chains of oppression! Submit not to scalping! Resist blackmail! You have nothing to lose but your dignity! Hold the line! Hold the line! Block that punt! Block that.... ...Ahem. I seem to have digressed a bit. I believe I was talking about my disappointment at finding no toys in Southwestern Florida. Let's see if I can pick up that original thread.... FLORIDA TOY REPORT REDUX My problem really was this: I had imagined Florida as some kind of toyhunter's paradise. We're talking inflated expectations here. That there would be no scalpers, few collectors, rare toys veritably leaping off the shelves into waiting carts. This hypothecation was pleasantly fueled by reports from some Floridian rtm-ers who seem to have great luck at finding elusive items. And so I left San Francisco last weekend with a spring in my step, visions of X-plums dancing in my head. Alas, nothing could have been farther from the truth. With all due respect to Scott, Zephyr, and other kind-hearted Floridian rtm-ers, Southwestern Florida was a toy wasteland. T.S. Eliot would have been proud. Except he got it wrong, 'cause from where I was sitting February was the cruellest month. Sure, it was only my high hopes that really came crashing down; Florida's toy shelves were no worse than Northern California's. But that didn't soften my disappointment one little bit. I had hoped for Cy-Gors a-plenty, AofA Magneto's cheaper by the dozen. Nope. With the exception of a few overpriced POTF figures ("paging Kay-Bee Toys, paging Kay-Bee..."), Florida offered little of interest to the toy shopper. And what was worse, the one TRU that admitted to having even *seen* the new Spawn figures also noted that they disappeared in toto on the same day they were put out (something on the order of a week before we got there). And what's even worse, I expect I'll return home to find that the same come-and-go has come and gone thereabouts. Oh well, at least I got the chance to re-experience humidity.... And a little humility as well. I think the lesson here is pretty clear: while the grass may well seem greener on the other side of the country, toy-lovers are everywhere. And toy-scalpers are everywhere. Which all too often, and in all-too numerous far-flung places, means that the toys themselves are not easily found. Hmmm. Do I smell an axiom? "Toy supply decreases so as to increase fan frustration in direct proportion to the number of middle management cy-goons working to maximize short-term profits...." Nah, too obvious.... At least mom was looking well. LOCAL SPAWNING GROUND Driving on one of Florida's spaghetti-plate highways early on in our visit, Tracey spotted a sign that seized her attention. "Look, John: Spawns!" I looked, and sure enough, there was a twenty-foot tall sign that read, "Spawns." I almost got us killed sweeping the car across the highway in a sudden 180-degree turn, but just before I made that insane maneuver I took a second look. The sign actually said, "$PAWN$" -- and yes, it was just a pawnshop with delusions of grandeur. Alas and alack. Heavy sigh. But in the desolate toy climate of Southwestern Florida, I think I can be forgiven my wild, momentary fantasy. Sure, upon reflection, the idea of a "Spawn Shop" makes no sense (they're popular, but not *that* popular), but at the moment, deep in my craving, it seemed reasonable enough to me. Pity. Who knows? As purple Malebolgia's become worth their weight in gold (and I don't mean gold Spawns), perhaps we will see them showing up in pawnshop windows as time goes by. "Forget the Rolex, pal; I can't move 'em. But I'll give ya 500 bucks for that Mal with pink panties...." And you thought Orwell's "1984" made the future seem frightening.... THE TRUTH ABOUT TOYS IN SOUTHWESTERN FLORIDA Well, I did say there were no toys in Southwest Florida. Okay, so that's not quite true. There *are* toys, just nothing new. I must have checked five Targets, six K-Marts, a bunch of TRUs and a Kay-Bee, and insofar as my particular current "wants" went, found nothing. No Age of Apocalypse figures, no Spawn IV (or Ultra-Spawn III, depending upon your numbering system of choice). No Savage Dragon She-Dragons. And the only POTF figures I found were $6.99 at the Kay-Bee (and were going fast, despite the cost). On the other hand, I did not come home empty handed. At least not entirely. I found an old but cool-looking Batman The Animated Series figure I'd never seen before -- a Bruce Wayne-transforming-into-Batman figure that came with grey battle armor. I found a Princess What's-Her-Name, which I'd never actually seen before. I found what I presumed was a Kay-Bee exclusive "mini" Spawn versus Violator 2-pack. (I have since seen a sickly looking, pewter-colored version of the same figures at our local FAO Schwartz, which could give the Kay-Bees lessons in overcharging. Harumph!). And I found a FF series I Mole Man, which I'd been seeking ever since passing it up back in late Summer the first (and only) time I'd set eyes on it. And, as noted, I found the three new POTF figures, though at the extortionate price of $6.99 (Kay-Bee, what can I say? The name must derive from "kilo-bucks," which they'd make if they could really sell all their toys at such prices). So for any out there for whom who I said I'd try to find these, mea culpa -- I couldn't bear to pass on that kind of cost. I did snag a Boba Fett for myself, against the chance that I'll not see another on a peg, but I passed up Lando and Luke II. Sorry, fans, but Lando looks like he's had one too many Bespin Gumbos (that, or he's seen Wolverine's plastic surgeon), and the Luke in X-Wing garb just looked too much the inbred hayseed for my hard-earned seven bucks, toy drought or no toy drought. On the other claw, the mini-Spawn v. Violator two-pack looks pretty cool. It's not the pewter-colored one, thank Angela; it's got a normal-colored Spawn with his cape flying off to the left in a great classic-McFarlane effect. Okay, so the Violator looks like he's been soaked in slime -- good with the bad, and all that (or vice versa). I do wonder about the scale, though; is McToys considering an onslaught on the 3.5-4" market? If so, was this a test salvo? Has anyone heard anything else about these figures, or any new ones on the way? In one sense, it seems like smart competition -- given Marvel's forays into 3" die cast figures, 5" "regular" figures, 10" "giant-sized" figures, and even 12-14" demigod figures (Galactus, Sentinnel), multi-sized offerings would seem to be of interest. Then again, the die-casts and the giant figs sold unevenly (or so I conclude from the myriad markdowns thereon), and as far as I can tell, the Youngblood "mini" figures sold not at all. Maybe this is just Todd's mendicant toe in the water; time will tell. Of course, all he needs to do is let it slip that these are a shortpack, and they would fly off the shelves....oh my, shut my mouth! LESS THAN PURELY TOY-RELATED... ...okay, we all know that it's a world of laughter. Yes, I'm talking about that mecca of childlike fun and wonder, Disney World. Yep, the wife and I capped off our Florida sojourn with a visit to Frosty Uncle Walt's stately pleasure dome, decreed for the kid in all of us. (Well, for the dollar in the wallet of the kid in all of us, anyway). Due to an unexpected (and quite undesired) headcold on my part, the result of our gracious airline's decision to maximize profits instead of fresh air (don't get me started...), we had to cut our Orlando leg of the visit short. This amputation left us with a real quandry: with only one day for Disney-fication, should we go to the Magic Kingdom or EPCOT? I had never been to either, and asked the lovely and brilliant Tracey (who, in addition to head Target-spotter for our party, doubles as my beloved wife) to describe each in a few words. As she told it, EPCOT center was a place where dozens of nations of the world paraded their goods, their foods, and their cultures -- street dancers cavorting amidst musicians in front of museums and gourmet shops, the pageant and history of country upon exotic country, displayed for our delectation. The Magic Kingdom, alternatively, was just a bunch of rides. Let me get this straight. As I understood it, then, our choice was between fun-land and "prancing" land? This was a choice? Sounded like a no-brainer to me.... So it was, with a song in our hearts and an expectation of joy in our minds (as well as a couple of hundred bucks in our wallets), that we set forth early the next morning for Disney World's Magic Kingdom. Look, if you've been there, any description would be old hat. And if you haven't, it would be boring-unto-irritating. So I'll skip the Walter Cronkheit and just give the real essentials. No Talking Buzz Lightyear figures to be had, anywhere. Not a one. Not even a raincheck. It's also a world of tears.... I asked in Future World, or Tomorrow Land, whatever they call it, and they said the only place I might find one was on Main Street (another of the park's lovely pseudo-worlds of fun fun fun). And at the Emporium in this generic promised land, I was told that the only place in all of Orlando I might find vociferous Buzz was at the MGM/UA/Disney theme park. Well, it wasn't worth staying another day (and shelling out another $37.50) for the privilege of paying a good six or eight dollars extra for our hero, so I didn't, and didn't. And judging at least by Orlando, Herr Lightyear is still a hard one to find. On the other hand, if you're in the market for an overpriced Star Trek tricorder (which item I've been seeking for a while), Disney's Magic Kingdom would indeed hold magic for you. I passed, as much because the sound feature on the few they had out were either barely working or not working at all as because of the steep markup. Sigh. Back to the hotel to ogle that Spawn two-pack again.... (and it was cool, but not *that* cool....) A few last words about the Magic Kingdom. First of all, it was smaller than I'd been led to expect. "Ten times the size of Disneyland," "unbelievably huge...." These were the sorts of hype I had heard. Well, folks, it jest ain't so. Oh, sure, it's a bit bigger than Disneyland, but more in terms of space than contents. Divided into five or six "lands" each with restaurants, rides, shops, etc., the total number of attractions didn't seem to me to be tremendously greater than Southern Cal's ancient workhorse of an amusement park. The highlights were the Haunted Mansion (to quote Brant, at least loosely, how DO they do all that cool stuff?!?), the Extra-Terror-restrial (teleportation experiment goes awry, leaving you and a few dozen others alone in the dark with a slimy creature that's a cross between Giger's Alien and Japan's Mothra), and a non-ride experience, "Traveling the Ages with the Timekeeper," or something like that. What made this last attraction dazzling were the 360-degree theatricals on nine linked screens, and Robin Williams' juggernaut wit (he provides the voice and mania for a wonderfully animated robot-scientist). A truly marvelous experience, and it was nice to see evidence of His Madcapness's patching things up with the Mouse People after the Aladdin debacle. P.S. The Extra-Terror-restrial ride did have one element that was totally captivating. It's introduced by a malevolent android creature, and while the special effects were generally quite good, this robo-baddy sported super-tech eyeglasses with LED eyes that went way beyond cool. Imagine a souped-up pair of Ray-bans with LED eyes that move and narrow and raise with your every expression. Nightmarish, and unbelievably compelling. I searched (in vain) throughout the park for a souvenir pair of these puppies, but alas, none were to be had. Maybe some day.... ALWAYS CLOSE WITH SOMETHING SENTIMENTAL The worst part of the whole trip (and hey -- don't get me wrong; the trip was pretty great, all things considered) was *not* that I had no computer, and no modem. (I did have periodic access to a computer, one with a 2400 BAUD MODEM! Does anyone out there remember these heirlooms? Perish the thought -- is anyone out there still *using* one?) Anyway, I could access my email, long distance (my provider has no local POP in Florida; the closest one was Atlanta, but I was afraid I'd get multiple screens-full of Olympics hype; no offense to the friendly Atlanteans out there, but I can't stand the way the media prostrate themselves over this competition), but at the cybersnail's pace of 2400 bits per second, I could barely afford to read it -- and could not really afford to respond. And with that in mind, reading the newsgroup was beyond my credit limit. Which accounts for my absence from these wonderful shores. And *that* was the worst part of the trip -- losing contact with rtm. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't easy. I dreamed about rtm. Saw lists of postings stretching from drowsy to nightmare, endless variations of sale exhortations, pleas, threats, even a few bargains. I conducted hypnagogic thread-dialogues with various people, maddened my dormant self with lists of others' toyfinds. But most of all, I MISSED YOU PEOPLE! Missed the reading, and the writing, the merchandising and the musing, all of it. Thus, and in short (ha!), I'm very happy to be home. And oh yeah, to be back in San Francisco. See ya in the funny papers....
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