No, you don’t need therapy because you’re a dog. And your other shirt is better, anyway.

Hi, gloves!

How are you doing?

Great! Me too. It’s– What the hell are you doing?

No! Don’t!!!

Noooo!!!

If you’re in the market for teeth (and who isn’t?) then I present to you Dr. Bailey’s Secure Instant Smile, Imako Cosmetic Upper Teeth, and the buy-one, get-one Perfect Smile Veneers.

Or, if you’re on a budget, how about a tooth-shaped container of plastic teeth?

Apparently designed as a successor to the not-incredibly-great Perfect Polly, Chatty Patty repeats what people say, through a small, tinny speaker. It also whistles and laughs when it’s not doing that. The customer reviews are about what you’d expect, on par with its competitor’s product Pete The Repeat Parrot. And it seems to be identical to Chatty Blue Jays, a re-skin of what’s probably the same electronics inside Chatty Patty, but inside of two blue jays, one of which is unexplainably red. I guess if you’re buying plastic birds to talk to you, biological accuracy isn’t at the bottom of your hierarchy of needs.

The bell arrives in the mail, and you take it out of the package, placing it on your kitchen counter. Days go by, and then weeks, until, one day, impulsively, you reach out and decisively tap the plunger. DIIIING! You smile, but then, as the peal fades into the background hum of your house, there’s a knock at the door.

The progenitor of smart-lights and home-automation controls, The Clapper, first released in the mid-80s, allowed you to turn on lights by clapping. It didn’t always work, and would register other sounds as claps, and wouldn’t turn on when you clapped, but persisted despite these failures and is still available today. The customer reviews are even better than you’d expect, with treats like “I will sit and clap for ten minutes and FINALLY the light turns on” and “your hands become sore from clapping!”

GambleBox is a pocket-sized safe you use to “lock your winnings away” instead of gambling them away before you leave the casino. To use it, you’d have to convert your chips or tickets to cash before cramming them in this tiny metal box (you can see it full of money here.) And you’d actually have to win money at your game of choice before you start losing it, in order to have anything to stuff into the GambleBox.

But the main issue is the fact that GambleBox identifies a problem (compulsive gambling) and enables it rather than provides a solution. It’s frequently-bought-with this book about how to use strategies to play slot machines, which are required by law to yield completely random results, and “$LOT$ CONQUEST,” which would be a great rap name, but is sadly just another book with an imaginary system purporting to teach you how to beat a random-number generator.