Mail Order Messages from the Fringe
Great gift ideas for your favorite paranoid maniac
When it comes to precision psychological profiling, purveyors of mail-order cataloging are rivaled only by the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit. But however well catalogers know their target customers, there are times when, as they search for new ones, their carefully crafted missives fall into the wrong hands. For example, much to my alarm, I recently received a copy of the Edge Company's 48-page listing of "tools, gifts, knives & action gear."
Does the Edge Company know something I don't? Am I, contrary to my mild-mannered self-image, actually in the market for "stunning blades of pure Damascus steel"? For "five hundred layers of tempered, hammered, cutting power"? Or a scale model of the Limited Edition 1973 Pontiac Trans Am, which is guaranteed to recall those halcyon days when "Aerosmith thunders from the 8-track. The tires smoke asphalt. The light turns green, your head snaps back. . . the new bird from Pontiac was a bad boy, indeed"? I think not -- in fact, I feel carsick already.
Nevertheless, I read the Edge Company's catalog with a queasy fascination. With each entry, a portrait of their intended customer came into clearer focus. As it did, I couldn't help thinking of Clint Van Zandt, the former chief hostage negotiator who specialized in psyching out maniacs for the FBI, profiled in the July 22 issue of the New Yorker. No one listened to Van Zandt when he insisted that David Koresh would rather die than lose face or when he maintained that the Unabomber was an obsessive-compulsive, college-educated recluse from the Chicago area. As far as I can tell, Van Zandt has the maniacs figured out, but the Edge Company does him one better: they've got the maniacs' addresses, and they're making money off of them.
Some of Edge's offerings are innocuous enough -- neato gizmos like the Apollo 13 Gyroscopic Razor ($39.95), which operates, battery-free, via a "gyro-throttle" resembling the starter on an outboard motor, and the Road Whiz Ultra Navigator ($39.95), a calculator-like device that can tell you the nearest gas station or motel to any highway location. But then there are the knives, guns and assorted surveillance and counter-surveillance devices. Think of the Edge Company as The Sharper Image for borderline personalities.
Here's what we can surmise of Edge's target customer, based solely on their catalog: Paranoid: The TRD Personal Surveillance Detector ($599.00), which comes in an innocent-looking "deluxe hard-shell travel case," can help you "secure your business transactions or meetings" by alerting you to the presence of hidden microphones and tape or video recorders. For super-secret detection, you can set the thing to go off with a "silent vibration," so that "only you know the snoops are nailed."
If you need "instant security for important or sensitive gatherings," you might want to invest in the Garret Enforcer G-2 ($109.95), a hand-held body scanner like the ones used at security gates in airports. To back it up, there's the Level IIA P.A.I. Body Armor ($299.95), favored by "cops, couriers, executives, security guards and people like you." Last but not least, once you've secured that "sensitive gathering" and a little currency changes hands (and somehow, I'm guessing it does), you'll need the Money Lab Counterfeit Detector ($59.95) before you "can bring your cash to the bank with confidence."
For home self-defense, you can obtain a Panoramic Safety Eye ($14.95), to prevent hostile visitors from shooting you in the eye as you look at them through the peephole in your front door, and a Heat Seeking Game Finder ($179.95), which, despite its hunting-oriented name, appears next to a sinister set of masculine eyes and the legend "Is there someone -- or something -- out there? Now know." Vigilance is the better part of defense, and that's why it's important to be Nosy: However much the Edge customer seeks to avoid detection and assault, s/he doesn't afford others the same privacy. The catalog offers a wide range of night-vision telescopes, monoscopes and binoculars, including the 25-Power SpyScope ($39.95), whose "ultra spy power" permits you to "keep a look out for faraway neighbors."
For monitoring those folks stupid enough not to stay far away from Edge customers, there's the Execu-Sleek Pen Recorder ($22.95), which the catalog pretends (no doubt due to those pesky government limitations on recording private conversations) is good for reminding yourself of stats on that "someone special" you just met -- perhaps a potential stalking object? "Check local laws before using" the "Anti-Theft Clock Camera" ($299.00), Edge also warns, as some laws unfairly restrict this digital-camera-disguised-as-a-wall clock, no doubt in a meddling effort to prevent you from getting "some real proof."
When suspicion begins at home, Edge is there to help, with the Auto 5HR Recorder with Dialed Number De-Coder ($174.95), which not only records all your conversations, but also tells you "even what number was called by others in your home." And no wonder Edge-ers are so mistrustful of others, when Deviousness is a trait they nurture in themselves. You can purchase the KGB Vanishing Ink Sting Pen ($49.95) if you feel "uncomfortable signing a hotel register, love letter or sensitive memo," let alone a legal binding contract. Within a week that signature will disappear. Should your adulterous hijinks be nevertheless discovered, you can always slap on the Magna-Sound 2000 Personal Listening System ($34.95), a pair of headphones guaranteed to "take the edge off of nagging spouses."
For those plagued by particularly persistent and demanding phone calls, there are several voice-changing gadgets -- for, from the catalog's myriad references to collection agencies, Edge customers are incorrigibly Profligate. (That doesn't prevent them from also being Stingy and seeing the advantage to the 1956 Drug Store Pay Phone -- a $99 device which, in addition to its value as nostalgic decor, "saves you money" by insisting that visitors pay for their calls.) Next to the creditor-thwarting Shirt Pocket Micro Voice-Disguiser ($39.95) is a photo of an unsavory looking fellow in aviator shades talking into a telephone while a speech balloon over his head reads, "Sorry, Mr. Jones is not in. This is Lucille, his secretary, may I help you?" Like several products in the catalog, this, we are promised, will help you to "fool your enemies."
That enemy is often enough the law. You can purchase dozens of devices to block highway patrol radar and laser speeding detectors (Edge customers are Lead-footed, as well, I gather). And the "Eliminator Copyguard Doctor" ($29.95), while ostensibly designed to "clarify" video images on copyguarded tapes (common on porn videos), can also be used to make illegal duplicates. For more ambitious criminal projects, there are several complete sets of lock-picking tools.
Now that our profile of the typical Edge customer is complete, it's even more unsettling to observe that the bulk of the catalog belongs to an array of wicked-looking weapons, including knives, straight razors, swords, battle-axes, bayonets, megavolt stun guns, Screaming Hot Venom pepper spray, tear gas, crossbows, spears, various small firearms (some of them "fully firing," others just pellet and BB guns), and even a Medieval mace for "fending off modern day barbarians."
I can't help but think that if Clint Van Zandt and the rest of the G-men had known about the Edge Company catalog they might have made shorter work of tracking down the Unabomber. Theodore Kaczynski, despite his lack of a "nagging spouse," seems like an Edge kinda guy. Of course, he wouldn't have thought much of the Road Whiz Ultra Navigator, but I suspect that the 12th Century Mace Battle Flail ($19.95) would have been right up his alley. He must have been on the Edge mailing list -- but then again, so, somehow, am I. . .