In case you're new: Thankful Thursdays is a series in which, every Thursday, I write about one thing I'm thankful for. Whether it's something as grand as the time we live in, or as specific about the way , nothing is off limits. Check out my intro post for more on why I'm doing this, and how it might help you too.
If last week’s item of gratitude was half for the fun, this thing is pure fun. It serves no practical purpose whatsoever. And yet, as soon as I became aware of its existence, I needed it. I’m talking, of course, about this nightmare fuel:
This is an “Elder” mask by SPFX Masks, with added eyebrows. There are products you think you need, like the latest iPhone. But then you get them, and after some initial excitement, it’s just your phone. This thing, however, gives me pleasure almost ten years after I first got it. I may not be excited by its very existence anymore, but whenever I find a new use for it, I have a new memory I can cherish forever.
While I the mask itself is a product, it creates experiences, and in that sense, is a happiness machine. Though I need to put the effort in.
If lockdown made time go slow because of how mundane and boring everything is, I cannot even begin to describe the agony of waiting for this masterpiece. My parents agreed to get it for me if, and only if, I did well on my 9th-grade exams. Not to brag, but I did incredibly, so we ordered it in the middle of the Summer break. I was told it would take 12 weeks to make, since it’s hand-crafted to perfection.
I was a fairly patient kid – if I just missed a train, I could entertain myself with my thoughts until the next one came half an hour later. But Jesus fuck, I checked the status of the order every day. Nay, multiple times a day. During school, at home, at restaurants with mum and dad. Just when the mask was finishing production, it had to be shipped from the U.S. all the way to Germany. Then it was stopped by customs, because shit, did someone get skinned?? After 16 or so long, LONG weeks, the day came. We had to pick it up from customs, but what was a short drive after all that?
I knew it was good from the videos, but in person, you feel every second of effort that went into it. The wrinkles. The stubble and five o’clock shadow. The pores. The way it reflects light to a similar level as real human skin. The fact that, when I wear it and talk, its mouth moves with me. It’s like an actor sitting for hours as makeup and prosthetics are applied, but instant. It surrounds my whole head and neck, and goes down to nearly my nipples.
Did I say it has no practical value? When I was 16, it had practical value, alright. Before I had a fake ID, I had Dieter (Dieter being my old man persona when I don the mask). I took my mate to the local REWE to buy vodka for the weekend. When he was asked for ID, he pointed to me, and said “my Opa’s paying.” She looked at me, perhaps a bit confused, but no questions were asked. I gave her the cash, my young fingers somehow not giving me away. To be fair, it’s not like you ever encounter a mask like this, so your first instinct mightn’t be that it’s a mask. Even if you suspect it, it’s a tight one to call it out, left it be someone with unfortunate skin. I’m laughing as I type this.
Before I had confidence, I had Dieter. When I wanted to buy lube, but felt too embarrassed to go in there as myself, I went as Dieter. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the look of barely concealed disgust the cashier gave me. I could have just bought it online, but where’s the fun in that? Hell, I might even buy lube as Dieter again just to see those kinds of faces again.
Ok, practical value aside, this thing went through a lot to give me the joy it has. It survived one night of tens of drunk graduates pinching at it and stretching it. Abisaufen is a German end-of-high school celebration. I still had a year or two to go, but I crashed a local one with some friends – as Dieter. As you can see, Dieter is quite the player:
I kid you not when I say that one of the drunk students came up to me and said “Sir, when I grow older, I want to be just like you!” Later that night, when I was dancing with the crowd, one student was concerned, and said something like “Sir, the clinic is that way, I think you may be lost.”
Others noticed it was a mask and pinched it, then others joined. Scared of having my baby (and also worth a lot) suffer irreparable damage, I fled. One bastard even put a lit cigarette into my robe’s pocket, which I only noticed after it burned a hole in there and hurt my leg.
Other times were thankfully less physically testing, but I did make other enemies along the way. In the early days, one of my favourite “pranks” was to walk around slowly and shakily, then suddenly sprint off into a random direction or side street. One time, a local homeless man followed me, and asked me what was going on. I told him it was a mask, and every single time I did anything similar when he was around, he shouted “DON’T FALL FOR THAT! IT’S A MASK!”
As annoying as it was, I did learn with experience that there was a dark side to this mask. Some “pranks” I thought were funny when I was 16 just made people uncomfortable: Once, I simply stopped walking and started clutching at my heart. People around me immediately stopped, as if ready to call the ambulance at any second.
I’m glad I learned that early on, and reigned it in a bit ever since. In more innocent pranks, my parents introduced me as their father when we had guests over. While the mask moved when I speak, and I can do a decent elderly voice, it doesn’t smile, which freaks people out. They try to be friendly, and I say friendly things like “nice to meet you”, but with the face of a man who’s very upset to meet them.
Before mum was used to introducing me like that, we once went for a walk around town, and happened to bump into a friend of hers. As we started chatting, mum said “So, Bettina, I’d like you to meet my so- err, my father”, looking at me mid-introduction. Bettina didn’t notice a thing.
Sometimes, even just walking down the street, without doing anything of note, I’d get a lot of stares. Perhaps for some, it was the uncanny valley, where they know something’s not right, but they can’t quite tell what. I’ve heard others describe Dieter as looking like a burn victim. But I do believe that, in some cases, people would just stare at a miserable-looking old man. For that, I think this thing has the potential to explore our biases. Even doing simple things people may not expect an old man to do, and seeing how people react, could reveal a lot.
At 16, I didn’t think that way. Instead, I started a YouTube prank channel. Learning my lessons from pranks that went wrong, I just did things you wouldn’t expect an old man to be able to do. If buskers were playing music, I’d dance joyfully (still with that sad, miserable grimace). In a sporting goods store, I’d do keepy-uppies with a football. I’d do push-ups in the middle of the street, and then just sprint away.
Sometimes, I did play into “crazy old man” persona a bit more, like when I handed out yellow and red cards to people in town, as if I think I’m a referee. While those pranks themselves didn’t offend anyone, I can totally see now how, to anyone approaching old age watching such a video, it could be offensive. It’s often a fine line to talk, and if I ever take up making videos again, I’d think more carefully of how I present it.
Precisely because of the sensitive nature of the pranks, filming them was way harder on my friends than it was for me. In the ultimate testament to The Elder’s realism, I once did another round of push-ups, as I was being filmed by a friend. As they later told me (and I could see in the footage), someone came up to them and said “Hey, have some respect for this poor man and put your camera away.” I might have been in the middle of the action, but I was anonymous.
I sometimes like to imagine what people I pranked say to their friends and families when they get home. I laugh every time I think about it.
At my pinnacle, I bought a pair of video-recording glasses, so I could film people’s reactions up close. By this stage, I was getting increasing views, and even had display ads next to my videos. Just like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun. I got excited and told all my friends to click the ads so I’d get paid. When one mate took my words to spirit and clicked the ad 5 times in a row, Google realised what was going on and kicked me out of the program.
Combined with not one, but two sessions of intense filming for hours, being so excited to review the footage, only to find out, in one case, my friend didn’t record, and in the other, I didn’t put my SD card in, I lost my momentum and gave it up. I’ve occasionally worn it again to prank without filming, and still have lots of fun with it even today, but I never filmed another video. I do think about it from time to time, and perhaps, with enough encouragement and a friend not afraid to be uncomfortable and film, I may return to it.
For anyone that’s interested in buying such a mask, I’m honestly not sure whether they’re still in business. Their website doesn’t seem to work, though they do still have a facebook page, so perhaps it’s worth messaging through there to find out what’s up. I do know of some alternative companies – at the time, I was tossing up between SPFX’s The Elder and CFX’s Codger, which is a few hundred dollars cheaper. Both, look great, though to me, Dieter takes the cake, which is why I went for him.
CFX seems to be very active, but I’d love to hear whether you know of any other companies of similar quality.
Oh Dieter, thank you for being in my life. You’ve brought joy to me, and many friends and strangers. You may have also caused some concern, but you taught some valuable lessons along the way. Here’s to learning some more, and producing even more joy in the world.