Beanie Babies, pogs, other trends easily forgotten

January 22, 2007 —

Everyone enjoys a good fad. Maybe not everyone, but few can honestly say they haven't fallen for a fly-by-night sensation at least once.

But why? The idea of something new, exciting, and completely void of any substance appeals to a lot of people: New Coke. The Macarena. Scientology.

The history of fads is no doubt a long and illustrious one, but I only care to validate those from 1985 onward, since going back any further would require research.

At any rate, each generation seems to have had their share of stupid trends, mine being no exception.

Perhaps some of you aren't quite sure what constitutes a fad. Actually, that's probably not true, but for the sake of meeting my assigned word count, let us revisit some of the ill-fated trends from my day. Cue the flashback music.

Beanie Babies: Before I was fully clear on what one was, they had already blown up and become such a hit amongst collectors that people were shelling out hundreds of their presumably hard-earned dollars for a tiny, beanbag moose with a name like Muzzy.

Several different lines were spawned before the majority of the collectors realized how stupid the whole idea was and abandoned them for something with a little more substance. Like Furbies.

Pogs: No bigger than a half dollar, these worthless cardboard discs featured anything from generic patterns to images of The Power Rangers. What chance of resistance did our pitiful minds stand?

Impressionable kids across the country woke up one morning and collectively came to the conclusion that life would not be worth living without a pocket full of these cardboard discs.

Within weeks, almost every kid had at least a few pogs.

Their inexpensive nature made it possible for even kids hard on cash to get in on the stupidity. Plus, they were pretty easy to steal, even if it meant having to forever live with the knowledge that you shoplifted cardboard.

That an organized game existed, complete with rules for using these discs for purposes other than looking like a schmuck, sailed under the radar. No one I knew ever played it. After giving it a shot one slow night, I realized why no one I knew ever played it.

Virtual Pets: If my memory serves, and it rarely does, several of my classmates were focused on these electronic gadgets, no bigger than a keychain, during the opening weeks of the seventh grade.

Actually, I think it was intended to double as a keychain, not that anyone foolish enough to own one of these things should have been allowed to operate anything that required a key. I would come to find out these things were virtual pets.

They had a more technical name, Tamagotchi, which is Japanese for "waste of money."

The idea was to feed and care for the alleged pet that appeared on the LCD screen. You see, real pets were so 1996. This was 1997, the time of enjoying a pet minus the companionship.

The end of the world was only three years off and time could not be wasted walking, feeding, or playing with pets. At least, not if it meant doing more than pressing a couple of buttons.

By Halloween, it seemed like I was the only kid in school without the responsibility of caring for an electronic life.

The craze died down and with it, a lot of virtual pets did, too. And so it was proven why middle school-aged kids should never be granted responsibility for another life, even if it requires batteries.

Clearly, being able to identify a fad will prevent you from being lured by its flash and keep you from being terribly outdated when the bottom falls out a few days later. Don't let yourself be the person who still has The Macarena in their regular dance arsenal.