There’s No Worse Gift Than a Gag Gift
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I should love gag gifts. I’ve given and received many over the years — a White Castlecandlethat smelled so strongly of French vanilla and onions fried in tallow that I could never bring myself to light it; an unlicensed Hello Kittybox fanthat rendered the Sanrio mascot’s face as some kind of eldritch vortex; a flavor of Lay’s potato chips made in China simply named “Italian Red Meat”; a basketball-shaped bouquet of carnations dyed a shade of orange found nowhere in nature. I love pranks, inside jokes, and things with an aura that makes them slightly off and singular, like kitschy 1940s lingerie and knockoff merch with obvious misspellings. But in recent years, I’ve come to understand the gap between enjoying things conceptually and actually wanting something I can use and concluded that gag gifts are almost never goodgifts.
At its best, a gag gift is personal, surprising, either unobtrusive or aesthetically interesting enough to live in your home (a book, a mug), immaterial (a Cameo, a title or certification), or something that eventually disappears (i.e., weird food you actually want to eat). At its worst, and most often, it’s funny for the five seconds after you open it, then you spend half a year evaluating whether your annoyance outweighs the guilt you’d feel throwing it out. The best gifts require insight into what your giftee wants, both in the moment and over time, and gag gifts are almost always a bad read — you get the instant gratification of a big reaction at the expense of getting your gift recipient something they’ll truly enjoy.
If I could, I’d take back all my gag gifts and replace them with something more enduring — some of the best gifts I’ve gotten have taken time to reveal just how special they are, like a great chef’s knife and repairs on a broken antique chair that gave it new life — or spend that extra energy writing a really funny card and paying a comedian to do punch-up. Except for the Italian Red Meat chips. Those were amazing.
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