Most of them (that I’ve met) were middle-aged, at a time when one’s hearing starts to decline. I wonder how many of these people blew their ears out (in their youth) listening to headbanger music at 110 dB. That would explain their obsession with monster amplifiers. There wre also some really strange ones (who were totally analogue)-these guys would spend $120.00 for a direct disc LP record, and then refuse to play it (because they would “degrade” the sound! Or the tube amps, with seperate preamps…etc.,etc. The point is, being an obssesive audiophile can make you spend tons of money, with very little bragging rights. I mean, I would certainly admire somebodie’s new power boat, but who wants to look at speakers? Anyway, the high end audio market employs a lot of people, so good luck to them!
Jesus yes.
Well, I read the whole thread, waiting for someone to mention what my Mother-In-Law and Sister-In-Law collect: these tiny porcelain statues of little people or cats or something called “Pretty Moments.”
There are china cabinets the size of ENIAC on the walls of each the mother and daughters’ houses filled with these things. The statues all look exactly the same, about three inches tall, and they’re all painted kinda like a little girl’s face they used to put on Coca-Cola ads in the 30’s.
They outbid each other in eBay auctions for these things, in which they are the only two bidders. They comb arts and crafts markets looking for them, then taunt each other when one of them finds one the other doesn’t have. Their first order of business upon a return visit by my wife and me is a cabinet tour of the more recent pieces. I tried to play along and ordered them each one for Christmas one year. I may as well have gotten them a couple of bags of shit - they were “common and cracked.”
As obsessions go, it is utterly, totally baffling to me.
Are you sure you want to piss them off? After all, we know what happens when start by feeding a plant hamburger…
The only thing I would pay $1000 per foot for would be a penis extension.
Oh, it’s not the camera, hon, it’s the 98,341 out of focus photographs with inexplicably jacked-up hues. I swear, some people should not be allowed anywhere near Photoshop.
Thank god someone mentioned scrapbookers–they are a very strange breed, indeed.
I second car enthusiasts, people who fly small planes; WoW folk, stamp collectors, people who “craft”. I always thought craft was a noun, but I guess not. I know people who can torture wood, ceramic, picture frames and canvas bags forever.
They’re scarey.
And people who bore the hell out of you re ancestry and/or photos need killing.
I don’t know what I’d do if I met up with a [del]gun nut[/del] gun enthusiast–probably poison him…
Thanks; you saved me from mentioning them. :rolleyes: As a former collector and present steward of a couple thousand groove biscuits, I wouldn’t have been nearly as kind as you are.
One factor at work here, and probably in many obscurity-based hobbies, is a kind of deliberate, self-perpetuating isolation from the world. These folks often lack social outlets or interests in, well, anything much. Shelves full of heavy discs make an excellent and nearly impenetrable fortress.
OTOH, when you meet the one in ten who has something on the ball, they are often highly intelligent and well-rounded individuals. I only wish more of them were women; I’d probably be married to one.
(Raises hand…) Guilty…BUT with an explanation. I’m trying, with lack of success, to get the feel of '50s postcards. I share my images with a bunch of people, just to let them know what I’m doing. It’s not pretension, just an experiment. My over-saturated stuff isn’t art, it isn’t particularly noteworthy to people who don’t know me . It’s just me.
It’s not the doing that’s the problem. I think what anyone does for their own private enjoyment is their own business, even if it’s something commonly thought of as completely bizarre. We all have our quirky geeky hobbies.
The problem is when they talk to people about it in mind-numbing self-important monotone, when clearly nobody in hearing distance gives a flying fuck about it and would rather they just shut the hell up, already.
One job I had, there was this dude who was really into working on his car. I was in the break room, eating lunch and reading the paper, when he randomly selected me to listen to him drone on about his chrome wheels and new airbrushed art and hydraulics and 3-handled moss covered gredunzas and who knows what the hell else. I just nodded vaguely in time as I read, and made occasional grunts. And then my break was over.
Apologies if it’s been posted before, but I’m not going to read through 190 posts to say: tantric sex?
OmG, BlondeBear, don’t feel guilty - the person to whom I’m referring doesn’t realize he’s made his pictures look psychedelic. They’re pictures of MY KIDS, and it’s like, would you just knock the shit off?! Send me the files and let’s get back to some normalcy here! I think he seriously needs a vision check.
Besides, I have to raise my hand sheepishly, too, since I’ve got a little roll of Monster Cable 
. When I was a teenager we used to go listen to speakers at the audiophile store, although we had the sense to use classical music for demos. I did eventually buy a Bang & Olufsen turntable from the guy we used to pester. Good times, good times.
I forgot to mention boat enthusiasts. One, in particular–my husband. I really don’t care how long the damned thing is, how many horsepower the motor etc. Can it float and will it get us from point A to point B? Is it seaworthy? Those are the questions that needs answering. (sailboats are classier, anyway).
I pretty hate anyone who natters on and on about their special interest/hobby. Yo, you’re boring everyone to tears with your info about Raggedy Anne, Elian Gonzalez (political junkies are a type of hobbiest[that word looks funny], IMO), trains, Spanish swords from before the Inquisition, etymology, philately, tomatoes, I could go on, but why?
Exactly.
And people who have any kind of social skills can tailor the conversation to the audience. For example, my hobby is playing the electric guitar. Now, electric guitars (particularly vintage ones) and tube amplifiers attract audiophile-quality (heh) swarms of tiresome geeks. I know, because I am one. But I’m also self-aware enough to drink a cup of STFU when I’m around someone who doesn’t care. If one of my co-workers asks me, “How was your weekend?” I might reply, “It was great. I bought a new amp on Saturday, and spent most of Sunday getting it all ready to rock.” End of discussion. If the co-worker is a fellow guitarist, then I might follow up with the 10 minute monologue about balanced phase inverters, non-linear volume pots and the importance of minimizing crossover distortion.
I think you mean Precious Moments, and yes, they’re nauseating.
One of the people I work with got me a little Precious Moments doctor for Christmas last year. When my wife saw it, she said, “She has met you, right?”
I know this is flame territory in these parts (and it’s questionable whether it qualifies as a hobby), but I fucking hate cat people. Not cat owners, per se–but cat people. You know, the people who don’t just own cats, but collect tons of cat statues and posters and bumper stickers. I’ve never met a cat person I liked. They are idiotic and infantilized.
Owning cats is not a hobby. Being a “cat person” is definitely a hobby.
On that note: Motorcycle people. Not those that just own a motorcycle and ride it occasionally, no I am referring to those that have several bikes, fix bikes, talk bikes, do wheelies down the road and hang out in “Gangs” of bikers. These self-important dicks also like to comment all the time on how there are “no bad motorcycle drivers” but talk about “car drivers” like they are some rival gang and generally refer to them as stupid.
Yeah, there are a couple of em right here on these boards.
Last night one of my coworkers was going on and on about rims and this and that…
At which point I told him about this thread.
At first he was slightly insulted by the term “tedious wanker”, then I explained about people who go on and on about a hobby or subject when no one else in the room knows or cares about it and he got the point. Then I offered to buy him the Tedious Wanker t-shirt.