It's the Most Capitalist Time of the Year: The Goop Holiday Gift Guide Has Arrived

It is with a profound sense of disappointment I must announce that Gwyneth Paltrow did not Goop all over election day with her holiday gift guide in order to momentarily distract her myriad haters (and lowkey lovers) from Democratic purgatory. The suggestion we all purchase a $38,000 mattress to commemorate the birth of Christ would have been almost benevolent on this day, providing something concrete to despise rather than the phantom dread anchoring the passive act of enduring history. But alas, it seems the annual Goop gift guide dropped over the weekend, and we were all too caught up in our own sweaty knots of roiling nerves to properly mock anything.

Well, my fellow hate lovers, that ends now. Here is the best of the worst from the Goop Holiday Gift Guide.

Let’s start small: A $22 straw, captioned “Suck it.” Suck it indeed. Feeling good about not suffocating turtles has never been so difficult.

A different, $48 straw. Perhaps a crystal-ensconced drinking straw offers the possibility of sucking it so hard one moves beyond grounding and sinks into cool, quiet subterranean lassitude.

Something that sure sounds like a masturbation rock.

Leslie Jamison’s new book, which would not be out of the ordinary but for the fact that this tome is included in the “Lovers” section of the gift guide, while the jerk off rock rests among the “Wellness” gifts. What am I missing? Is the book title a reference to cooter?

Perhaps the companion piece to an essay collection suitable for lovers: a cooter-centric coloring book published by an anarchist small press no doubt thrilled to find itself in such rich company.

The aforementioned $38,000 bed. Sorry, the Avocado mattress “starts at” the price of a mid-sized sedan. To truly pass unconscious hours in comfort, one’s mattress should ideally actually cost the same amount as a small jet plane.

This pyramid-shaped “commode,” which I originally believed to secret a toilet because I am poor and my understanding of word definitions betrays that shortcoming.

A nearly $2,000 Ouija board. No joke here. I’m including it in case someone would like to buy me a gift.

A very beautiful and fairly okay-priced dish. Shit. I hate that I love and am going to buy this, which was the entire point of this endeavor. Well done, Goop!