What Came in My Barfa Box?: The Seedy Underbelly of DKult Gift Exchange

This year's was the fifth non-successive annual Barfa Spewart Holiday Gift Exchange; only the second one I have participated in. Conceived by the obviously deranged mind of DKult's own DK, the Popette of TrashPo, the exchange is meant to be a friendly exchange of gag-me-with-a-spoon holiday tackiness of the sort one might receive from a born-again follower of Martha You-Know-Who. Well somehow my lucky stars guided the fickle hand of fate to have me chosen as gift recipient this year from Diane herself.  One day, shortly before Christmas, a largish package arrived.

I knew immediately that the so-called $10 max expenditure had been exceeded by postage alone. I was still laid up, fresh from surgery, still sporting a heavy plaster cast, and it took a day or two for me to get it together to finally open the Barfa Box.

 

Even the protective bubble rap was stained by mysteriously slimy substances.

And like one of those Russian doll thingies, or maybe I am thinking of Latvian piano crates or...well, it was a nested box in box affair. I pull out the box within and find:

 

 Crispix??? Never heard of it. Immediately I suspected that the box was a fake, maybe produced from whole cloth, or blank paper, by some illustrative magician like David Stafford. However, after reading every word on the box it finally dawned on me. This is no bit of mail-art magic, it's just a cereal box. Of course it is...it's TRASH, and this is a box of TRASHPO from DK. Still, I had to examine the duct tape closure for any signs of suspicious white powder. However, I was soon overcome by curiosity about the strange slosh-slosh sounds emanating from within.

A quick peak revealed a typical Diane Keys style trash stash, but with some very interesting variations.

The first thing I pulled out was a very reasonable little packet of stuff that included a nice note from DK. The stuff was all married up with a red-striped clothespin, natch!

Next thing out was...well, a little skin treat. Glad I'm not a Zombie, I s'pose.

Torn pages from a kids' book, a handout for an acting school, and I guess it looks like the instruction chart for some complex rhumba moves...but until my leg heals up I don't guess I'll try it out and see if I can Dance With The Stars...

Now this is just a piece of signature DK TrashPo. It needs no cutting and pasting or re-arranging. I don't know who--or what--Spookle is, but I s'pect she's a latter day hippie mixing up some fine tea, or bath oil, or love potion #10... It'll damn sure smell good!

Well what sort of holiday stocking would be considered complete without some well-decorated, Jesus-blessed, heart-hearthy edible undies. Yep, the box was empty. I guess one of DK's other many spouses got the real treat implied here. All I can do is fantasize and wonder...boxers or briefs?

What can I say about this? It's a painted, decorated rock...a pet rock...a praise the lard pet rock. And what is it with that butterfly thingie. Does it look as suggestive to you as it does to me? I am sure there is a place for a new paperweight in my life somewhere...

Finally, we come to the sloshing truth! It is a TrashPo Sno-Globe. Brilliant! a lovely little jug of junk and glitter. Shake it and wonder...wonder where you went wrong in life...  I have thought often about opening it up and investigating the many sparkly and intriguing bits of....well...of crap floating around in there, but I have resisted. Instead, I have the sno-globe sitting quietly next to me at my studio work table. And now, after nearly a month since arriving, it looks like this:

 

Yes, the devil is growing his spore inside. When and if the bottle ever starts to swell or hiss or bubble, I have already researched which appropriate hazmat disaster offices I should contact. Meanwhile, I'll just give it a little shake and enjoy...

And the package was properly signed by you know who:

Thank you dear Attitude Girl. I absolutely cannot wait until next year's (or next decade's) Barfa Spewart tacky gift exchange.