The Nicodemus Coffin Bed is a padded coffin whose slogan is, according to the product listing, “Why buy a casket for just one day?” In case you thought it was just a bed, they add “Use it as a coffin when the time arises.” It looks less comfortable than the quilted, padded Star Legacy Deluxe Casket, but at least it’s not the $59 corrugated-cardboard special.

If you’re going to walk around with a loaded handgun, why not leave that ol’ thing hanging out in your “Gun Tote’n Hobo Handbag” and keep your hand on it the whole time you’re out of the house. It’s like a dreamcatcher, but instead of catching bad dreams, you get really scared because you saw a minority, and you shoot them.

I’ve pondered this question for years and I think I finally figured out what a “man cave” is. These soy candles tipped me off, because why are you burning a scented candle, Guy Who’s So Manly He Has To Have A Man Cave? And why do they have to be soy? Something’s fucky here.

A man cave is not what it claims to be. If this sign said “Hydrate with wine. I don’t exercise” it would be in your mom’s house, because your mom hung it up there.

A man cave is actually an excuse for a man to decorate a room in his house as if he were a suburban housewife. Look at this precious wooden shelf for “shot glasses.” It’s for Precious Moments figurines, dude. I know what’s up. You got your Precious Moments in there so they don’t knock together and chip the paint.

There’s nothing wrong with being a suburban housewife. I’m not saying there is. You just can’t claim to be doing manly shit in your “cave” if you need a cute throw pillow that matches your other pillows.

It’s over. Amazon won. We lost. Alexa, open the pod bay doors.

The Babymop is a one-piece romper you put on your toddler so they clean your floor as they crawl and roll around on it. It sounds good, at first, until you realize that you’ve either got to put your baby on a filthy floor, or clean it before you put them on it in the Babymop, which it defeats the point.

This 1960s Battleship game is a small reminder that “the good old days” and “the way things used to be” doesn’t necessarily refer to a better time for everyone.

This plastic juice-box brags that it’s a “healthy alternative to artificial juice boxes.” I’m not sure how filling a $12 plastic container with sugar-water is suddenly healthy or not artificial. Many of the customers complained that it broke apart, leaving their kids with sharp plastic shards. And plastic isn’t eco-friendly, compared with the myriad of unbreakable (and still recyclable) 8-oz stainless-steel bottles made for kids.

You can’t put acidic fruit juice into a stainless-steel bottle, but that should help you comply with the American Association of Pediatrics’ suggestion that your child drinks no more than six ounces of fruit juice a day. Yeah, we drank a shitload of juice when we were kids, but we’re all fat now, so it might be a good idea.