CAN ALSO BE USED AS A TRAVEL WATERPROOF SANDWICH CASE COVER

LEVEL 5

As you know, the people at Etsy hand-pick a selection of super special items to go on their front page every day. These usually include a bridal gown from a Chinese reseller, a busted toy in a jar, 15 year old dry cleaning bags and an upcycled KFC bucket full of pine cones.

You may also know that I believe everything is chosen by the Etsy chicken. I really do. I think the people at Etsy just throw a handful of corn on a laptop and watch him go. Whatever he pecks out goes right on the front page, and then they all go back to listening to Modest Mouse on the ironic 80′s boombox.

Because I can’t think of any other way to explain this.

Welcome to my farm! I’m Farmer Fuckwad and I cook up ribbons every day in my tiny cottage with Shrug, the pint-sized talking horse! Gotta go! I’m expecting a rainbow delivery!

Jesus H. Macy, I just hate this crap. I really do. Everywhere you look people are pretending to pick earrings off of trees or knit with birds or find fairies under rocks. Etsy is like a mental hospital, only with paler colors.

And you know why this forced whimsy is spreading like a flesh-eating bacteria? Because Etsy suggests it. This is actually one of their business tips. Make a story! Create a wonderland! Tell a riveting tale about your $2 worth of cheap shit on a clothespin, and YOU CAN QUIT YOUR DAY JOB!

Isn’t it exciting? Pretty soon you’ll be able to pay your mortgage with those bedazzled plastic cups, because they came from the magical land of Solo, where hot things stay hot and cool things stay cool!

Can you imagine being an actual artisan, someone who blows glass or paints or hand sews clothing, and waking up to this pile of horse shit? I would personally walk over to Etsy’s Honeycomb Hideout and break all their mustaches on sticks.

ETSY: YOUR ONLINE MARKET PLACE TO BUY RIBBON SOMEONE PRETENDED TO MAKE IN A CROCKPOT

Professor Pennywhistle reached into his fantastic adjustable hip satchel, producing a few farthings and a folded map of Main Street.

“Now then,” he began, “who wants a churro?”