On cooler days I like to take reading baths. After a string of body-and-soul-crushing days of unbearable heat and humidity, a rainstorm dropped the temperature into the mid-60s and I headed for the tub. Unfortunately, I had just finished reading a good book, and the stories in that week’s New Yorker magazine weren’t particularly interesting. Fortunately, I had saved an eye-catching catalog from the recycling bin.

It was from a company called Hammacher Schlemmer, a name I could barely pronounce. The cover boasted an impressive silver gadget that looked for all the world like a futuristic weapon from one of the “Men in Black” films. Actually, it was The Italian Electric Tomato Press. I was intrigued. Further capturing my interest was the catalog’s claim that Hammacher Schlemmer is “America’s Longest Running Catalog … Guaranteeing the Best, the Only, and the Unexpected for 173 Years.” An amazing claim for a piece of junk mail. I slipped into the bath and began reading.

Turns out the tomato press costs a whopping $399.95 and got four and a half stars from John, MS – “A must have for the avid tomato gardener.” Had it also blasted laser rays I might have been tempted. But to crush tomatoes, which I could do with my bare hands? Not bloody likely.

I didn’t find anything I wanted until I got to page 39, on which was advertised The Six-Minute Laser Hair Regrowth Therapy Cap. Lasers at last! I had seen this gadget advertised on late-night TV, promising to regrow your hair with laser light technology. And it took only 17 days with six-minute-a-day treatments. As a bald man, this grabbed my attention. Then I saw the price of the cap “for those already balding”: $3,000. For that price I could buy the best toupee ever manufactured. Something distinctive made of mink or muskrat pelts.

The rest of the catalog was a mismatched collection of cool high-tech gadgets like you’d find in a Sharper Image store and junky eccentricities like The Two-Story Inflatable Black Cat, standing nearly two stories high, a Hammacher Schlemmer exclusive. What I really hoped to find was a sit-on-top fishing kayak with foot pedals, but that practical gem was nowhere to be found here.

Every other week I put our recyclables out for street pickup, and one barrel is almost always filled to the brim with old newspapers and junk mail, especially mail order catalogs. I’m always embarrassed by how much recycling two people, just my wife and I, generate in a fortnight. On occasion, the barrel is so heavy the pick-up professionals just drive past it, leaving it on the side of the road. That’s right, they refuse our refuse!

The problem is, you buy something from a catalog and you’re put on a for-all-eternity mailing list – plus the company sells your information to other catalog-producing companies. Thinking about Hammacher Schlemmer’s tongue-tying name, I realize catalog shopping makes you less of a “macher” (a powerful person) and more of a “schlemiel” (a fool).

— Special to the Telegram