As The Cake Stand Turns

When we last tuned in, the Ersatz Trifle had sneaked into the Wilsons' kitchen in lovely Spork Falls, hoping to convince them that it was an elegant English dessert.

"Well, no one will know that I come from a cheap Betty Crocker mix. I've learned how to act. I can do the accent. I'm wearing whipped cream and whole strawberries, just like those fancy English desserts that think they're so special."

The Trifle remembered how the Victoria Sponge and the Chocolate Gateau had made fun of it, even though the Victoria Sponge was only two layers of plain cake separated by a bit of jam. "But I am English and therefore awfully refined," Victoria had said. "Pardon me, but you wouldn't know how to behave on a tea table in London. You'd probably spill on the floor and taste like - "

"Like a cardboard box," sniffed the Chocolate Gateau (and that was no mean feat, as you can imagine). Ah, memories, thought the Trifle. Memories so poignant, so powerful! I don't even think they're real. Where'd I meet those snobby cakes, anyway? I've spent my whole life in a Betty Crocker box, and then I got baked. But I want more than that! I want fame, fortune - and most of all, to be English.

Just then young Bobby toddled over to the side table. But he did not look at the Trifle. He was looking at the Chocolate and Cream Thing in a Bowl which stood in front of the Trifle. It was a Trifle Wannabe - a flashy upstart that didn't even pretend to be anything but an excuse to mix pudding, cake and fruit in a bowl and call three desserts One Big Mess.

"Look at me, me, me," the Strawberry Trifle thought. "I'm the focus of this ad, not that floozy with the toasted almonds on her head!" But Bobby ignored the Trifle, for in the realm of small children, chocolate trumps strawberries pretty well all the time.

"Eat your tuna casserole first Bobby," said his mother from across the room. "And then maybe if you're good, you can have some cake. Now come sit down right now, it's time for us all to stare at the condiments." The rest of the family sat at the kitchen table, focusing their gazes upon the magical mustard and ketchup squeezy bottles.

"Trifle! I'm an English Trifle I tell you!" the Trifle tried to shout. But since it was an instant dessert in a glass bowl, no sound came out. "Trifle trifle trifle! Stop looking at that stupid mustard! Over here!"

The silence grew ever louder. And alas, the Ersatz Trifle was running out of witty rejoinders. Not that it had ever had any to begin with. Cake mixes seldom do.

Tune in next time to learn the answer to these thrilling questions:

-Will the Wilsons really believe that the Trifle came from London, enjoys a good cricket match and personally knows the Queen?

-Will Bobby ever go sit down at the table?

-And finally: what is the origin of the strange Spork Falls condiment-staring ritual which has the entire town in its hypnotic spell?

Exquisitely Fake Diamond Rings

You can plan the whole wedding around these amazing rings. Catering? Nah, just set out some gumball and candy machines. That'll help offset the cost of the rings. Party favors can be those little troll dolls in plastic eggs. What will we wear, though?

This tiny little post brought to you courtesy of me taking a day off. Sort of! And the ad is from an early 1970s comic book, which is also resting, on a nice comfy bookshelf. Now back to trying to plot that mystery novel...I guess that isn't resting exactly. But I thought we all needed a break from the long posts.

Little White Sheet Lies

1. This is not really burlesque queen Gypsy Rose Lee's favorite 'nite' spot. Because:

2. A cotton sheet is not comparable to a night club. For one thing, it'll get crowded on that bed and someone's bound to fall off - probably the piano player, for one. Plus someone always spills a tray of drinks, don't they, in the course of an evening. And then Gypsy will be doing the laundry all night.

3. In which case, advertising wash powder would have made more sense.

4. Miss Lee was not a "prominent hostess of New York and Paris." No, you just can't say that! She was not the low-rent version of Babe Paley.

5. And she was not an "aristocrat" either.

6. Miss Lee "has never felt it necessary to mingle with cafe society." But she does like "international society." Miss Lee was too busy performing her burlesque act to mingle with the 400, I suppose.

7. And finally: prominent society dames do NOT have Big Eyed Mona Lisas on the wall!* They just don't. Please, Miss Lee, get that terrible thing down off the wall. No one is going to sleep well with it looking at them - I don't care what kind of high society sheets you've got there.

Ironically enough, the Wikipedia article I linked to at the top (oh, and here too) says that Lee was known for her art collection and that many famous artists gave her their paintings. She had works by Picasso and Chagall, for example. Perhaps they were all out being - dry-cleaned or something, when this picture was taken. Because I am thinking that that is not a Picasso.

Advertisement from True magazine (which was aimed at guys), February 1954.

We'll Always Have Ex Lax

This is the man who said "What's the difference, all laxatives are alike!"

If ever there was a symbol of modern malaise, this has got to be it. Never mind Charlie Chaplin's social satire in Modern Times. This man is weary of being a cog in the machine, all right. And machinery that doesn't work...And - well, you do the math! He's stopped up, literally and metaphorically.

It's 1936 and the middle of the Great Depression. Also, of the Great Constipation.

It's a black-and-white-with-shades-of-grey Monday morning, and he's been gorging himself since Friday like it was still the Jazz Age and he was the F. Scott Fitzgerald of Louie's Diner.

Ex Lax to the rescue. Cue the big band music! For Ex Lax is dandy and copacetic and many other retro adjectives denoting a good time. And it is so mild, according to this most informative ad, that you will hardly know you have taken it. And when you do take it you will also be waving bye-bye to "bitter, nasty-tasting purgatives and cathartics." Although this man has not quite made a total break from bitter and nasty - look at him!

He needs to be saying hello to something that tastes "just like delicious chocolate." Well, sort of like delicious chocolate. Maybe it's more like chalky, not-very-delicious fake chocolatey stuff. That's it. Well, sir, say hello to it, whatever it is.

Here's looking at you, kid. We'll always have Ex Lax.

Rescued from a secondhand store, torn off of some issue of Argosy circa 1936, that was lying in a box with some other stuff. Mixed with various movie references careening madly from the 1920s to the 1940s, making this post rather like that box in the secondhand store.

Eat Here And Get Gas

Walk in the house on the right. You'll know what they had for dinner - yesterday. In this house, you get yesterday's air warmed over.

Great dinner the folks on the right had last night: a large smoking pipe, a raw Spanish onion cut in half, and a pot that appears to be on fire.

No wonder the yellow lady looks so besieged by indigestion.

The lefthand lady, on the other hand, is thinking about the ersatz-Peter-Max butterflies and flowers that she had for dinner last night. She seems to be wondering if this really was a good idea or not.

I can definitely say that the pale blue rompers are also not a good idea. Nor is the lucky skunk tail that appears to be depending from her braid. And I ask, How come?

Gas may indeed make a big difference, but I suspect there's something more to it, too.

There always is.

******
Thanks to my pals at the University of Virginia for this gem from 1968. Now, they don't know that they are my pals, but they posted these ads and seem not to mind me using them, so they are pals indeed!

And a general thanks to all my other pals who have sent me ads or said it is OK to use them. You are all exceedingly groovy and cool - and if I haven't partaken yet, I will.