I've always been attracted to the allure of the flea market. This my friends, is where America comes to die. For those of you not acquainted with the tradition, the idea is every Sunday a bunch of people set up tables with crap for you to buy, in an effort to sate the heart of our capitalistic culture. If ever there was a final resting place for the forgotten and ill-advised byproducts of our American way of life, this is it. Everything you could ever want from bootleg Prada bags and stacks of old forgotten comics to limited edition 1994 NFL championship Super Bowl commemorative watches ($3 apiece). From Scarface posters and VHS porno tapes to horribly racist statuettes and collectibles from periods of American history we'd rather forget. And so, with this in mind, I gathered up a ragtag group of true believers.

Let me introduce, "The Dream Team."

From left to right: Eugene Judas, Seth Yeaton and Chris Gesualdi

Eugene, eligible bachelor, was our point man, scouring high and low for poor examples of humanity and swearing just loud enough the entire time to make everyone around us uncomfortable. Seth, owner and proprietor of local game store "X9 Games" was the straight man, making sure we kept all limbs inside the vehicle at all times and doing his best to ensure no one got killed. And I, your fearless journalist, was the leader of this expedition, and official documentarian. With my group assembled, I quickly grabbed a camera and we set off into the heart of the beast.

For some reason, no matter where you go, there's always at least one guy selling diabetic socks at flea markets. I didn't even know you needed to wear special socks if you were a diabetic, but apparently there's a huge market for the things as this was only the first of two sock salesmen. Less surprising however, was the high level of presumed diabetics frequenting the man's stand. I'm not going to say I'm in any sort of shape, but Jesus Christ, if I'm ever putting around one of these things in a Rascal scooter looking for Dreamcast games, someone put a bullet in my head.

If there's one piece of advice I can give the budding flea market enthusiast (besides stop what you're doing and find a real hobby) it's to make friends with the dealers. For example, last week me and Eugene argued loudly enough about the NES game M.U.L.E. at this man's stall that he declared he liked us and gave us some pretty sweet deals on random games we didn't need. Here Eugene and Seth both wonder what went so horribly wrong in their upbringing that they're constantly attempting to repurchase their childhood. Also they had Super Dodge Ball.

What flea market would be complete without merchants of an ambiguous undetermined race (Puerto Rican?) selling tacky poorly-made clothing and other assorted knick-knacks. I should do all my shopping here.

What's got Eugene and Seth's attention? Why, it's an assortment of bootleg action figures. You've got your dream team of Spiderman, Batman, Mr. Incredible, kind of weird looking almost Superman, and of course perennial fan-favorite, Naked Hulk.

ALL THE SUPER HEROES
IS COMEING NOW

Did I mention that Eugene is a highly eligible Bachelor?

This is a great example of why I love coming here. I mean, some poor old woman spent her entire life doing what? Collecting Rooster and Cock related memorabilia? And now instead of tossing the things in the trash where they belong, she's come to the flea market hoping to find other cock enthusiasts upon which to bestow her priceless collectibles. Hopefully we can all be as sad and crazy as this when we're old.

Flea market humor is probably one of the worst inventions since auto-erotic asphyxiation. Again, what the fuck is with the socks?

Did I mention that Eugene is a highly eligible Bachelor? To be fair, I said he couldn't come to my birthday party unless he purchased this incredible framed unicorn poster. Quite the steal at $3, though Seth just shook his head and tried to walk ahead of us for the rest of the expedition. Right after this I found a creepy cardboard box filled with awesome 90s VHS porn with great titles like "Tit for Twat." Unfortunately before I could snap a picture this old bastard lumbered towards me and Eugene and said something along the lines of "You boys aint old enough to be looking at that, aintcha?" Eugene responded with "I'm 26 you fucking asshole" and we walked away to go snort glue outside a 7-11 or whatever else us punk kids do these days.

This is a Persona 2 strategy guide worth about $80 on ebay. I purchased it for $5, along with a book of shitty fantasy art and an old issue of the Official Dreamcast Magazine. I guess I'm a winner today, though in reality I'm just a huge nerd.

So I guess we didn't really learn much from our journey. We saw a bunch of old video games, bought a lot of crap we didn't need, and verbally assaulted an elderly man (I hope nobody buys your VHS porno anyway, bastard). But in the end, as we took off towards another tomorrow we were content with the knowledge that America will always be dying. And hopefully we can still come to places like this to pay our respects to the deceased.

God Bless Puerto Rico America