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Cast of aluminum, hinged and stamped with cryptic markings, this once turned out chocolate peaches the size of baseballs. You can buy antique candy molds of all shapes and sizes on eBay – but few that can be misappropriated for the manufacture of chocolate body parts. This unique mold is a gift from my mother to my brother in law. He will use it to make a chocolate butt. Possibly several of them. No doubt they will be tasty and amusing. This is what passes for humor in my family, which may or may not explain a few things. This thing is, nonetheless, cold to the touch, but warms quickly in the hands. And it is deliciously heavy.
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Nothing makes my stomach churn like the anatomy of thermoplastic dolls. Their hair grows in numbered clumps, through symmetrically drilled holes in their plasticene skulls. Paint-irised eyes fringed with nylon fuzz tilt back on tiny weights – very sanpaku – and only little stop-pins keep you from seeing them roll all the way around to expose the unholy backs of their eyeballs. Hands extend in gestural rigors meant to invite play, frozen in spastic mudras that instead signal dread and mute panic. Hips and shoulder joints pop out of sockets at any 5-year-olds sadistic wrench, leaving that frightening hollow torso that gives you one of two possible reactions: Joking – (What do you call a quadriplegic in a bathtub? Bob) or numb horror: (My God. What if I look like that inside? What if my arms could pop off that easily?) Can’t sleep: Dolls will eat me.