Garbage Pail Kids

Not long ago, I made the mistake of going in my kid’s room.  The space was mostly— and uncharacteristically— neat, but one thing caught my eye:

Pokémon cards.  

A waste of time and money, I thought, before realizing that I’d officially become a cranky old man.  In a wave of cosmic karma, I was hit with a flashback to these collectible cards from my own childhood:

Garbage Pail Kids.

It’s always a struggle to explain what life was like in the 1980s, before cell phones, or the Internet.  Back in those days, we kids thought that snarky magazines like Mad or Cracked were the pinnacle of daring, edgy humor.  And at that time, the craze of the day— Cabbage Patch Kid dolls— were a perfect target for parody.

In the 1980s, these too-cute dolls had become a must-have Christmas gift.  Each of them came with personalized “adoption paperwork”, and they were tremendously popular every year, selling out long before Thanksgiving.  Entrepreneurial scalpers made bank by reselling Cabbage Patch Kids on the black market— and when the dolls actually could be found stores, parents often came to blows over them.  

By the time 1986 rolled around, unlucky kids who’d missed out on the craze were more than a little envious, and it was only a matter of time before a creative mind came along to give them a voice.  In an odd twist of fate, that individual was Art Spiegelman— a legitimate literary giant. 

Mr, Spiegelman is best known for Maus, a serialized graphic novel chronicling his father’s experience in a Nazi concentration camp.  But back when he was an underground cartoonist, slaving away at the story that would eventually become his Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece, Mr. Spiegelman paid the bills by taking on gig work.  One of his contracts was with the Topps trading card company, where his illustrations for “Wacky Packages” cards were a hit with both executives and kids.

Mr. Spiegelman’s concept sketches for a parody series of “Garbage Pail Kids”  trading cards were just as enthusiastically received.  The project was rushed into production, and the cards flew off the shelves.  That first series, released in 1985, was put together so quickly that each unique illustration was actually used for two different characters, like “Adam Bomb” and “Blasted Billy”.  This decision allowed Topps to rush the cards to market— and to double their profit from each of his commissions.

The Garbage Pail Kids’ “anti-cute” gimmick was well received, and the craze had an amazing run, with a total of 15 series.  As a bonus, the trading cards were also peel-off stickers, destined to grace notebooks and lockers long after they’d been traded away.  Naturally, as their popularity grew, Garbage Pail Kids cards were actually banned at many schools.  But it’s inevitable—such instant success will breed bad decisions.  By 1987, when the Garbage Pail Kids were at the peak of their fame, somebody decided it’d be a good idea for them to have a movie.

The film crashed in theaters, of course.  The project was a blatant cash grab, thrown together on a shoestring budget.  The live action movie was recognized with several awards for Worst Picture, and just as many rebukes for how its dwarf actors were treated.  And just like so many other products of the 1980s, this film has definitely not improved with age.  Its unique claim to fame is an enduring “0% fresh rating” on Rotten Tomatoes. 

Over the years, the Garbage Pail Kids have resurfaced a few different times, even though the craze is long gone.  Although even in today’s digital world, for some reason, it seems like collectible trading cards are here to stay.  Pretty much everything from professional athletes to television shows to pop culture still gets printed on glossy cardboard, destined to be traded or hoarded away by superfans.  And just like the Garbage Pail Kids, the majority of these crazes will disappear into history— but for some reason, adults are still willing to pay top dollar to complete their collections.  

I may never understand the enduring appeal of these cards, but it’s fascinating to think that small scraps some of my childhood could actually serve as some kind of financial hedge.  So who knows?  Maybe each new pack of Pokémon or Magic: The Gathering cards will eventually skyrocket in value, the same as a piece of fine art?  

If that’s the case, I think I may have found my ticket to a successful retirement…