When I think of thrift stores, I picture pit-stained golf shirts, stacks of soiled twin mattresses, and over priced copies of L. Ron Hubbard’s Dianetics. The students of the New Used have a more enlightened view of this world. They look at two bit gaming systems, used telephone answering tapes, and stacks of Barbara Striesand records as a recycled playground for new media material. That’s fine and all, but it stills smells like a sweaty old man.
