One of my earliest childhood memories is of going to the county fair and discovering, to my utter horror, this type of motorized neck massager being demonstrated among the other as-seen-on-TV–type inventions. I was thoroughly creeped out the very moment I saw it. There was just something so awful about the knobs slowly rotating under the fabric, like a drugged animal trying to escape a garbage bag, or that scene in Ghostbusters when the Gatekeeper’s monster-arms burst out of Sigourney Weaver’s armchair and drag her into her fiery inferno kitchen.
Either way, the creepiest thing by far about this particular neck massager is the stain. I’m not sure which of the only two possible explanations is worse: 1. Eleven years’ worth of someone else’s neck grime, or 2. A neck massage gone terribly, terribly wrong. “Works awesome” indeed.