the gnome cunundrum

Home again, hoping at least for some temporary work. There are, of course, a million things to do around the house. I decided to start with tossing out catalogs. First I have to make sure they really are trash-worthy. So they must be reviewed. You never know; there might be something really important in them.

So I reviewed a recently-received catalog named “Potpourri.” For those of you who don’t know, the original meaning of the word potpourri is a mixture of miscellaneous things; not a bag of gaudily dye-stained stinkin’ wood chips you can find in the Dollar Store. But I think this catalog has combined both meanings of the word to come up with something new: a potpourri is a mixture of various brightly colored useless pieces of crap that somehow somebody will actually spend good money on.

I had to review the Potpourri catalog. It’s not that I thought I would find anything useful. Oh no; on the contrary, think of it more as an educational experience in modern culture. O ponder the glory...

So I came across this fellow:

a Potpourri exclusive

A gnome cum birdhouse? What’s the deal? Perhaps this is for people who fear they will be ridiculed for having a gnome in their garden. They can always say “No look! It’s a birdhouse!” The hole in its head thereby justifies it’s existence…

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Okay, at this point, a few of you who know Roger and I well enough will be saying “Whoa! Dan! Hold up! You own a gnome!”

Yes, it’s true. Most of my friends in New York do not yet know this dark secret: We own not one, but three garden gnomes; and one of them is bathing. What’s more, we own a set of concrete toadstools for them to sit under; a miniature wooden door for a gnome, (or fairy), to enter; a statue of a giant snail; a forlorn seated frog; a squinting otter (named “Squinty”); a pair of metal chickens; a pair of pink flamingoes... Shall I go on?

So how can I sit here up on my alabaster throne and peer down my nose at the things in this catalog and scoff that I have more taste? Frankly, I’m not sure I have the right. Let he who is without taste...

I like to think that my gnomes are better. They are made of high-quality resin, after all. But really, the question is: What is the difference between kitsch and poor taste? When our garden ornaments make it out of their boxes and into the garden (and they will; they have a life of their own, believe me!) will our friends be in on the joke that, wink wink, I know that you know that this is all tongue in cheek? Or will they think we have a big hole in our heads - just like this swingin’ gnome?

Well, at least I don’t own a cherub being eaten by a glowing carnivorous rose: