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70s-Era Ronco Crafting Kits Made Me the Person I Am Today, And I Hate Them For It

By Elizabeth Weitz

I am a crafter.

Obviously not a good one as I don’t have an Etsy store and very few people actually buy the stuff I make which is kind of sad as I work really hard on this crap and would like to make some money so that I can continue to buy stuff off of Amazon that I don’t need to fill the empty void inside my soul caused by my lack of talent in the writing and crafting world.

It’s a vicious cycle.

Please Buy My Stuff

Of course, I could just give it up and get a hobby that doesn’t crush my spirit, but that goes against my self-destructive streak, so, I power through and continue to create small works of art that, when they don’t sell, usually end up going to friends who politely nod and thank me for adding to their garbage bins.

I hate my life.

 Or, more to the point, I hate Ronco.

Oh you know who they are, they are the ones who come up with products like: the Showtime Rotisserie, Hair-in-a-Can, the Electric Food Dehydrator and were a fierce competitor to K-Tel Records:

But the products that have caused my adverse feelings toward them (and which I deem directly responsible for fueling my soul-destroying crafting obsession) are those that came out when I was at my most vulnerable, my most easily swayed…the 1970s Ronco crafting kits which promised me that I could make a career out of attaching rhinestones to leather jackets.

Liars.

And yes, when you are in your formative years and your babysitter at the time was Ronco Craft Crazy, you have no choice but to imprint on their seductive commercials and spend the remaining years of your life chasing after your dream of being a Speed Tufting rug maker:



Or the glamorous creator of colorful flower shawls and vests:



Or a glass artisan:



Or even the aforementioned rhinestone fashion designer:



But will you ever catch that dream? Become the kind of artist who can make wearing a rug look fashionable?

No.

Instead you will spend your life failing at the craft game and end up on Zoloft for anxiety.

So thank you Ronco…thank you so much.

Now if you excuse me, I need glitter bomb a terracotta planter and shame-eat a box of Oreos.

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