WordCrap number 2: It's not, "Vintage." It's frickin' old

So if you spend two seconds talking with me, you will rapidly determine that I harbor a dark, twisted secret: I am a self-acknowledged Craigslist junkie.

In a Craigslist context, I fantasize that my Internet alias should be junkhunter2007. But thinking about it for the ten seconds that you have been talking to me (instead of listening to whatever obviously-less-important-than-Craigslist thing that you're saying), I realize that mixing the word, "hunter," with a phrase that uses the word, "junk," like, say, "junk in the trunk," might render my desired moniker already taken for another meaning. So I will stick with the obvious and intuitive huhhuhhuhhuhsillywabbit106432n for now, and continue to think about the Craig while you stare and move your mouth before my vacant eyes.

My rabid addiction to CL ("CL" is what we call it at the meetings) becomes painfully obvious when you mention any object that you have acquired, any tool or trinket that you are looking for, or any service that you would like to solicit, like acrobatic gutter cleaner or high altitude dive instructor. In response to whatever it is you think you are going to finish describing, I may cut you off and rapidly slur, "Oh yeah! I jussssaw a stuffed hippo ezzackly like that on Craigslist today! Hey are you gonnafinish that gum???"

To feed this addiction, I read a LOT of listings for things I of course do not need. I think I may be looking for slightly used and unclaimed winning lottery tickets; I'm not completely sure yet, but that, I suppose, is the allure. Today it was a table saw, a Volkswagen EuroVan, an Isuzu Trooper, a creative writing gig, a Dodge Sprinter van, an espresso machine, a Phil and Teds stroller, two bicycles, a rototiller, and a Land Cruiser. From what I can remember.

Now in my own defense, I also have a job. And a car. Both of which, OK yes I found on Craigslist...But that was before I had this problem. It was not a problem. I mean, IS not a problem. Really. I mean its not really a problem now, so much.

So here's the thing. Unfortunately, even in this Craigslandian Utopia of cheapness, this Valhalla of affordable valuables, there is a thing that is starting to burrow into my skin like a nice tick or a West Indian sand flea:

Everything not NIB (New In Box, which also bugs me), is not called, "older," is not identified as, "slightly used," is not, "barely breathed on." Apparently, everything that has not just been dropped off the back of a large Isuzu delivery van has become, "Vintage."

Vintage. Hmph. Vintage. Like wine. only with an older beater motor and a rusty table top that I wouldn't set a can of Western Family baked beans on for fear of cross contamination. Thanks to my beloved C-to-the-L, "Vintage," is rapidly coming to mean, nothing.

Now I don't mind things that are truly vintage. Vintage clothing for example. There is such a thing as that, and I find it interesting and good. Like a nice pair of vintage wingtips from the '40s. Or vintage movie memorabilia. A vintage African Queen poster is more than legitimate. Vintage means something in this context.

But a "vintage" mountain bike? C'mon. Its just frickin' old. How about a "vintage" table saw? I would love a vintage table saw - you know, one of those old ones you see on the Woodwright's Shop on PBS where the guy pumps the saw with his feet and takes 3 hours to cut a sheet of exported then imported Chinese plywood? Yeah those vintage saws are cool. But a vintage mid-80's piece of crap craftsman? Here's the best one I've found so far: a "vintage Dish network satellite receiver." I have no words for this; only slightly annoying hand gestures and punctuation: ? ? ??

Define "Vintage", then, you say, you whining blogging bastard; you, ahem, "blastard," if you will. The dictionary, unfortunately, is of no use to me here. Technically, OK yes, anything that is old can be called vintage. But there is a concept known as the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law, which logic my Father often used to his parental advantage to make me decide whether or not the thing I was about to do, or did, was right or not. And I think the principle applies in this case.

In the spirit of this word, don't you think that Vintage should be reserved for things that have intrinsic value, things that are defined maybe as, "collectible," even, "memorable"? Things that appreciators of such things would truly respect as such? I could be sorely mistaken, but the subset of people who appreciate the beauty and function of outmoded Dish network receivers for their stately, vintage qualities, has got to be a small, slightly unspun gene puddle, yes? Why not call the 1970's pre-Costco bulk packages of Charmin that you received as your crappy (pun intended) inheritance from Grandma Whipple, "Vintage"? Because, friend, these packages are not, vintage quality. These now ovular featherlettes of woven wood pulp and chemical bleaching agents are simply old.

And thus and so, to you, misusers of Vintage, I beg of you. Please, just call your used, Craigslisty thing what it is: Old. Slightly used. In good shape. Broken in. You can even say, "Seasoned," where appropriate, or, "Well-liked for what it did for me," and I will not swear in my head when I read it. In fact, if it is the latter, I may even chuckle, which I know you would enjoy knowing if you went to the trouble to say so. To assist you, in case it is hard for you to tell whether the V-word is appropriate, use this simple rule of thumb: When thinking of how to describe your non-collectible but still worth selling item, ask yourself whether or not this object is like Grandpa, and Grandpa is not what most people would describe as, "Vintage." He is good, he is Old, he often smells of Old Spice and bourbon sweat, and we love that about him. And that term, Old, is respectful.

Examples:
Table saw? Just old. Just good old plain Old. NOT vintage. Unless it has foot pedals.
57 Chevy? Vintage. Yes absolutely.
Firewood? Just old and dry. Seasoned? Hopefully. Vintage firewood? No. Just like Grandpa.

Just. Like. Grandpa.

Now back to what I was doing. Maybe it should have been named...OxyCraigIn? CraigsyContin?