Great Uncle Lester was a strange duck with a pension for the unique, so just maybe he stored his secret vintage car collection there. Clandestine art pieces? Stocks and bonds? Jewels? Oh, jewels! You know he was no fool.
You throw open the doors and allow your eyes to adjust as the rays fall ever so gently on…10,000 Sony VHS units. Mind you, these are mint in the box, baby! You quickly realize that perhaps Great Uncle Lester was a fool and you are now the shame-faced owner of obsolete inventory. Whatever are you to do?
Good gracious! The obituary for this technology was in the paper long before your old uncle took his last breath. You remember reading VHS’ 2005 obit in the Washington Post:
“VHS — the beloved videotape format that bravely won the war against Betamax and charmed millions of Americans by allowing them to enjoy mindless Hollywood entertainment without leaving their homes — has died at the age of 29. It passed away peacefully after a long illness caused by chronic technological insignificance and a lack of director’s commentary tracks.”
You would love to just shut the doors and light a match, but you don’t have a match. Your mind is racing. Give them as gifts to everyone you know for every event for the rest of your life? Keep them in their boxes and build a fort? Sink them in the river? Ship them back to China? Uh, did they even want them when they made them?
Wait a minute! Doesn’t Lakeside Food Sales say there is no product too large or too small? Don’t they claim that there is no product that they cannot move? Shoot, they import, export, liquidate, distribute, and salvage.
I know they’d tell me, “Hey, contact us! We can move Great Uncle Lester’s VHS machines with no problem. We’ll find them all good homes where people will use them to watch great VHS tapes like Rambo and Top Gun.” Hey, I have copies of those too.