Why is it that in our society we place value upon things that are totally meaningless? Case in point: those goddamn bobble head dolls of the Sacramento King?s players at Carl?s Jr.

Driving by a Carl?s Jr. one morning at 6 a.m., I noticed people waiting in a line that circled the entire store. Shouldn?t they have been sleeping or eating breakfast instead of lining up for a piece of molded plastic with a spring inside it. You?d think they were handing out bags of money or bars of gold. I haven?t seen such a feeding frenzy since McDonald?s was handing out Beanie Babies a few years ago.

I admit I had one or two in my time, It was the Bob?s Big Boy looking dude in a baseball uniform and I didn?t care if it got broken or anything. They may be amusing to children, but these people are adults that only act like children.

I wasn?t in the store when they opened the doors, but I can imagine what it was like:

The man behind counter with black beret licks his lips because he?s got cotton mouth from just smoking a joint on the way to work in his 1973 Monte Carlo. “Welcome to Carl Jr.?s, for here or to go?” he asks.

Rabid lunatic bobble head junky, who is convinced he is collecting the bobble heads for his children, and will refuse to take it out of its box for them to play with because they will no longer be considered mint says, “I?ll take two of them. Give ?em to me. Can please hurry the f?k up! Give me the goddamn bobble head before I rip off yours!”

Worker: “Sir, could you please calm down? I am moving as fast as possible.”

Rabid lunatic: “Don?t tell me to calm down, I am calm! Just give me the bobble heads, OK?”

Middle-aged woman with leg warmers over her tights that are few sizes to small, her eyes are glazed over due to the fact that she is seventh in line: “What?s taking so long? Hurry up! I?ve been waiting since five o?clock.”

By this time the bobble head addicts can almost taste the things. The majority of the lunatics are hopping from one leg to another as if they have to go to the bathroom. The line moves agonizingly slow. Each transaction seems like an eternity. Beads of sweat form on their lips and foreheads. When they finally get their bobble heads it?s a better sensation than an orgasm or dropping the plunger of a hypodermic needle filled with heroin. When they finally reach the safety of their car, they look into the bag to see if the bobble heads are really there, they are. And then they look at themselves in the rearview mirror and the perfect image of a pathetic loser is reflected back into their eyes.

Is Matt Wagar a ‘bobblehead’? E-mail him at [email protected]