One Angry Chicken Is Worth A Thousand Laughs

See, this is why you should never smoke. It's a psychological fact: smoke too many Camels and you'll start hallucinating that a humongous chicken is driving your car. And not only driving: yelling at you, too! That is one mean chicken. Must have got out the wrong side of the coop that morning, huh?

It's "mad as a wet hen" and wearing a smart little suit. I think he's married to that chick. This might be the MCP ad of the week, actually.

And kudos also for the prize Duh Remark of the century: "pleasure helps your disposition." Oh, is that so? Thanks, I had no idea.

Now Gene Nelson down there at the bottom seems not to notice the road rage that's going on right over his head. Nor that the large pack of Camels that is about to attack him.

At least the Camels aren't hiding out in the donkey of the advertisement below (same mid-50s vintage). Because the chicken with anger management issues is going to start looking pretty good, compared to the donkey. And when they say "unique jackass," they mean the person who thought this would make a really good Christmas gift:








The cigarette ad with the big chicken is from Stanford University's terrific Not A Cough In A Carload. And the Donkey of a Thousand Laughs (I'll just bet) is from my beloved Popular Mechanics collection.

******

Thank you so so much to HotRocks at Hot Rocks Unique Designer Jewelry and to alwayswinner786 at Tips For Delicious and Healthy Eating, both for the Lemonade Award

Thank you also to Cen at Cen's Loft and Tricia at papercages (I didn't forget, Tricia!) for the meme about seven random things - which will be about seven random retro things, sometime in the next couple of weeks.

And thank you to my top Entrecard droppers for January:

Thinking Out Loud
Mommy's Little Corner
The Work From Home Mother
Cinnamon Spice & Everything Nice
Computer Aid
The Ad Master
The Half-Life Of Linoleum
Holy Cuteness
Crotchety Old Man
Rocket Scientist

It's A Branderful Life

Hey, thanks for sharing.

Really, we were all wondering about the state of your - well, how things were going for you. No, that's not quite right. Let's try again. We were all just talking about how overburdened you seemed to be - laden with care, and...actually, no - we weren't talking about you at all!

We will be now, though. The boss will come through the office, maybe, scratching his head and saying, "Boy, Harold sure is happy about something! Wonder what it could be?"

Guess we know what to tell him.

And by the way, this will be just perfect for your next year's Christmas letter. You know the ones I mean. Full of accomplishments and accolades and all the cool things everyone in your family did over the year.

Well, you've officially got them all beat, and it's only the end of January.

You, sir, are in possession of the branniest, nuttiest cereal that ever found itself on the wrong side of a serving spoon.

And that's not the only nutty thing around here, either.

This breaking news was from the Windsor Star (1959).

Mystery Shoes

There's money in them thar shoes - one hundred sparklers a week, if this ad is to be believed. The operative word, of course, being "if."

Among the fantastic and fashionable lot is something referred to as "mystery shoes." None of the shoes pictured look particularly mysterious. But since the ad is from Startling Detective (circa 1964) perhaps one is supposed to sense which ones they are. And then you can wear them while taking one of the many at-home become-a-detective courses. Mind you, once you crack the case of How To Sell Boring Ugly Shoes in a shoe store you set up at home, you ought to be able to solve anything.

An Email With Teeth

Mais oui, sometimes you might like to open your mouth when you smile! Also when you talk. And c'est vrai, it helps a lot when you are eating les bonbons, to open up the mouth a little.

How dare Mr. W.A. Fox, a gentleman to whom you have not even been introduced, make a mockery of the state of your teeth!

He claims to have some "quite expensive" potion, beloved by the chic ladies over in France. That is where all the beauty secrets have been hiding, usually for at least 25 years (40, in this case) but are only just now becoming available. And why is that, Monsieur Fox? Is it because the chic ladies are sorry for you and your nicotine smile? Or perhaps it is because they have a new secret, one that actually - works...

But for now, let us say that this Email Diamant will make your yellow fangs acceptably white. Why, they will become so very, very white and bright that you might also see a sizable reduction in the electricity bill!

You too will become a Continental Sophisticate, lounging about feeling "amazingly gratified" (Sacre Bleu, I dare not imagine why). Soon you will be wearing dark glasses everywhere, zipping around in a blue convertible, trailing a scarf and laughing with your head thrown back. Don't forget to look at the road though. And watch out for the scarf too, Isadora.

Thank you very much to Uh...Bob over at Flickr for the amazing ad! I'm guessing this is 1950s vintage, as $2.98 doesn't seem that expensive in a 1960s context.

The Plastic Sandwich

An enormous money maker, from 1955. The tagline makes one think that they are getting excited about Barbie and Ken's lunch counter menu, but no. This is just like the machines you see in the drugstore sometimes, only at home. And apparently you can make $18 an hour, sandwiching things between bits of plastic. This racket is not free, unlike others - you do have to cough up $35** for the machine. I believe it's the people selling the machines who are making $18 an hour, provided they unload two per hour, less a dollar or so for shipping.

**That would be "$35 and up" - there's money in laminating PHOTOS and CARDS for sure!

A Long Time Between Roasts

Alice: Psst! Helen, there's something I must speak to you about! Shhh! Over here.

Helen: Oh hello there, Alice, I didn't see you there. You must have been lurking behind the canned vegetables. I see there's a special this week on canned corn and -

Alice: Never mind all that! I must speak to you in confidence, dear...

Helen: It isn't Grace Foster running off with the milkman again, is it?

Alice: Why no it's -

Helen: Because I happen to know that you got that bit of juicy gossip from I Love Lucy. I was suspicious as soon as I realized that we don't even know anybody named Grace. Or Foster!

Alice: Oh do shut up for one ever-loving minute, Helen! I must speak to you about GRAVY.

Helen: Gravy? What about it?

Alice: When was the last time you served up some delicious gravy?

Helen: Well, the youngsters, they love gravy. But - mostly I serve up those newfangled TV Dinners from Swanson. I'm a busy lady! I have things to do and - and things to do! Speaking of which, I really have to -

Alice: Helen, don't let it be such a long time between roasts! Just buy some of this canned Franco-American gravy. Try it! Please! Your family will love it!

Helen: But -

Alice: Just put it in some nice big bowls and voila! Dinner is served! It's even grand on bread for children's snacks! Just look at the ad there - bottom line. That's what it says. And also, it adds glamour to economy foods...I think. Maybe not glamour, precisely. It does add gravy though, I know that much.

[Pause for dramatic effect. Helen sees what is sticking out of Alice's purse and suddenly realizes why she is listing to one side.]

Helen: You just bought a job lot of canned gravy from somewhere, didn't you?

Alice: I did not!

Helen: Just like the time Lucy and Ethel buy all the meat and try to sell it at the butcher's out of an old baby carriage.

Alice: I never did!

Helen: Uh huh....sure. Well, maybe I'll buy a can or two. Couldn't hurt the TV Dinners, I suppose. But you have to promise me you'll cut down on the sitcoms, all right?

Siroil Slick

Mirror, mirror in my hand
Who's the oiliest in the land?
Behold the clever ageing miss
Who defeats psoriasis
With a secret stain-free potion
Which demands complete devotion

You will follow the scary gal
Sir Oil of Canada has in thrall,
Queen of problematic skin
With pointy nails and troubling grin
Her magic compact poised to rage
If you should merely turn the page

So buy a bottle, maybe two -
Her booklet tells you what to do!
Self-marinate for fourteen days
This is the Secret that repays
All who pay homage to Siroil
And with its unctuous virtues toil:

The Queen with profits will be fed
And you can toboggan in your bed.

The Curtis

This is not going to motivate anybody to watch TV. Who turns on the television so they can look at a shirt collar?

Also Lew Magram must think we're all dopes. He thinks he has to tell people to watch the TV screen. Look at the screen, folks - not the rabbit ears, not the ceiling, not the bowl of chips. The screen.

It isn't even an exciting shirt collar. I'm not sure you can even make a shirt collar that interesting, really. Even if you covered it in sequins and sparkles, it's not going to be able to carry a TV show by itself. Shirt collars don't sing or solve mysteries.

I don't know who the guy is, but I think we're supposed to know and be impressed. He is the "STAR" - although given the insecure vibe of capital letters plus quotation marks, I think he may be an imposter of some kind. He looks sneaky (well, boring too, but definitely sneaky).

Note that you can buy this cutting-edge fashion in "TV blue." Maybe it makes you glow in a dark room. Perhaps that's why they tell people to look at the screen - wear this, and your family's going to try watching "Car 54" on your torso.

I guess there was a show called "Curtis" and this was the exciting shirt worn on the show. Wow, I hope that's out on DVD!

******
I checked Wikipedia and TV Party for possible shows and actors. I got nothing. Anyone know about this show or the "STAR"?

Fat Chance Records

First, of course, you have to get your fat to listen to the record. Because it is probably lying around, having a nap, enjoying life on your hips. Having a few party snacks, too. It's like the guest who never leaves, despite all the hints and pointed looking at watches and talk of needing to get up for work the next morning. You know what I mean.

Wallace and his magic records to the rescue!

This item comes in a plain wrapper, which immediately makes me suspicious. Suspicious of what, I don't know. But I don't like it.

The record is supposed to make you thin. I understand music, exercising to music, and exercising to a voice bossing you around ("do five hundred sit-ups...starting now!").

But what could the Wallace Method be that makes this record so special? They call it a "reducing record" and you also get a "reducing lesson." Maybe it is special music that makes your "bulging hips" shrink.

What sort of music would that be? Maybe John Philip Sousa marches. The extra fat gets charged up and parades away, just like that. That would be easy, but not exactly natural.

Maybe it's "easy listening music" that drives your fat mad and so it just packs up and leaves. Fat only likes jazz and big band tunes. This is 1950, so there isn't any rock music yet.

And the special lesson must teach you what to say as you play the record: Party's over, subcutaneous fat! We are only playing this special music now, and there's no more good snacks. It's getting late, anyway. Then you tell it you're glad it could come by (you are lying, of course) and you'll call it sometime (as if!). What a great method!

But what do the Wallace Records people do with the bulges of the 500,000 women they have helped? Because it has to go somewhere. Hope they have access to a storage facility, that's all I'm saying.

The badly scanned ad from Ladies' Home Journal, 1950 scanned by me (lovely microfilm, shame about the library scanner). The really nice ad is from the supremely boss Duke University Ad Access collection (click the link for a bigger version, it is quite good and shows Mr. Wallace, a disembodied head who had a Get-Thin-To-Music radio show, too).

The Pie-Eyed Banana

Here's the weekly* Retro Recipe that puts the Kitchen in Kitchen Retro! This one is a banana cream pie, suitable for throwing if you are Lucy, Ethel or one of the Three Stooges (or just in that kind of mood) - or for eating, because it is probably an All Right Recipe. Not outstandingly exciting, but not innately disturbing either.

First I want to talk about the strange little banana, then we'll run through the pie-making.

So, the banana. What is she planning on doing with that box of pudding? She wants to marry it, I suppose - in a metaphorical, pie-eyed sense. The My-T-Fine does not look too enthusiastic though. This may be because boxes of pudding are not known for their expressive natures. She seems to be taking it somewhere and no one's going to stop her! This banana is in love. It's a little one-sided, but she means business.

Also she is wearing bows on her - I guess they are legs. And she has an apron on. So maybe she is planning on making a pie out of the My-T-Fine and - some of her banana friends. I just don't know what's going to happen, but I am uneasy about this.

Moving on to the pie - before you make it you have to digest some nauseating motivational copy: "Want to make a hit with your he-man? Serve him the pie voted 'tops' by GIs." Since this ad is from 1953, they are either referring to Korean War vets or possibly to their Gastro-Intestinal tracts. And who wouldn't want a pie rated so highly by those? He-men (snort) have got to watch those delicate GI tracts.

Anyway, here's how you make this therapeutic dessert:

1. Get a premade pie shell out. Put it on the table and stare at it for a minute. Yeah, go on, you really do want to do this.

2. Cook up the My-T-Fine or whatever vanilla pudding mix you have in the house. Use a cup and a half of milk and two egg yolks - just dump it all in the pan and cook it. Maybe you had better beat the egg yolks first though.

3. Slice up a banana and put the slices on the bottom of the pie shell. Then dump the pudding in on top.

4. "Allow to cool." Yes, little pie, you have permission to cool off! Take it easy, now.

5. After it is all calm, cool and collected you may put meringue on top or whipped cream. If you have an extra banana, now would be the time to slice it and stick that on top too. Hey, knock yourself out.

But if the banana you have saved for the pie runs off with the box of vanilla pudding - make something else.

*Weekly in the sense of "if I feel like doing a Retro Recipe that week." A loose definition of weekly, really. If I don't find anything that entertains me that week in a culinary sense, we'll just skip it, OK?

*****
A huge thank you to Webfixer, who kindly helped me, via the Blogger Help Group, to be reunited with my blog titles! He has a blog over here at Webfixer which I have now bookmarked - although I expect those titles to settle down now that they have had a vacation!

Counter Intelligence

Oh sure, any time anywhere - as long as it's a drugstore counter. Tums are great as long as you just camp out in Woolworth's on one of those red leatherette stools, I guess. Otherwise, good luck with that indigestion.*

And if Acid Indigestion is hitting you, I'd just move further down the counter. Incidentally, what do they think you're having for breakfast that requires you to start chomping on Tums as soon as it hits your stomach? Maybe the Woolworth's blue plate special. Perhaps that is why Acid Indigestion is acting out.

*I do know what they mean, actually, they mean you should buy it at the counter but nowhere else... Not even if you see it for sale in another part of the store! Otherwise the Tums will not work!

Sem-Praying On Your Vanity

The retro scam of the week is this 1931 ad for face cream. It will clean, clear, soften and "youthify" your skin overnight. Well, who doesn't want to be youthified?

The name Sem-Pray implies that you are really going to hope and pray that it works. Actually it is from the Italian "sempre" or "always." That's how long you will have to use it, too.

So let's see what Madame La Nore of the Sem-Pray Salons in Grand Rapids, Michigan, has for you. She has a magical cream, a powder base and some rouge. You had better get it all, just to make sure. Send quick! You should have done it yesterday!

There's a seven-day plan given here for the best results. You usually do have to use the miracle product for a certain strict time period. With Sem-Pray you need seven days, three minutes a day. Three minutes is actually a long time to be scrubbing cream into your face, if you think about it.

Note also the typical "closely guarded secret" and "Eastern cosmetic oils and beautifiers" - whatever that means. But it always sounds good. Eastern, of course, could mean New Jersey. that must be it.

They promise that Sem-Pray will not make you grow hair. Wonder why they felt the need to bring that up? Perhaps it's a hint of what might await you, should you use the seven day samples - and then stop.

The Old and the Odorous

More fun with Lifebuoy in this week's anti-feminist ad. Not that Lifebuoy can't insult men, too - as we saw over here in Lifebuoy Meets World.

This week's delightful soap opera manages to insult women over the age of 40, unmarried women, and of course women who use soaps that are not named Lifebuoy. So much for being a Woodbury Deb - you'll never catch yourself a man that way!

Buoy oh buoy, what a story this is. It starts out with a stellar cast of characters. I love that "still good-looking at 40" business - like that's a big surprise. But it isn't only her heart that's big - and that's why all those "admirers" drift away in the end. Actually, they aren't drifting so much as asphyxiating, apparently. And doesn't Jerry look like a prize.

This is all being narrated by loyal friend Alice, the little head down at the bottom of this totem pole of perdition. That's some friend Alice is - she can't wait to tell the Nameless Friend that - well, she stinks.

Tricky Alice decides to use the subtle ploy of telling about someone else who solved their stink problem through using Lifebuoy soap. You see, it's really her niece who can't get anyone to dance with her.

"But she found out her trouble...'B.O.'" Just stress one tiny word, and you can totally mortify and insult all your friends. Wearing a gas mask would also work. And why does the Friend say she has heard so much about Lifebuoy? That's why she isn't upset - all her friends have nieces with B.O., strangely enough.

Oh Alice, your hidden agenda is showing! Nameless Friend rushes off right then and there to take a bath. I think Alice was packing a few bars of soap in her pocketbook.

She scrubs, she scores! At long last: marriage to that Jerry, the geriatric Ashley Wilkes. He's aged about 20 years in three panels. Mission accomplished!

At least the Friend was using the right toothpaste, unlike poor Auntie So-and-So, over here.

This 1934 ad is from Duke University's Ad Access collection. Thanks, Duke University, you're better than a whole boatload of Lifebuoy!

An Exception to the Slide Rule

"Any male will go mad over this." That's quite a claim! Maybe they mean that trying to measure things with it, while it is stuck on your tie, will drive any male mad. Yeah, that must be it.

Death of a Sales Promotion Manager

"You'll be pleased!" All that hard work promoting sales, and this is what you have to show for it:

A walnut-n-gold desk thingie.

And if you are not pleased, you will get your money back. Sorry about all the hours you put in at the office. You won't get those back.

Too bad about the endless meetings, the hours traveling back and forth from Yonkers (or wherever) in your giant 1950s gas guzzler. You won't get back any of the time you've spent pushing insurance, or liquid plastic novelties, or whatever. What is it that you do around here, anyway?

Can't do anything about your lost enthusiasm, or your twenties and thirties either. However, you will get that $1.95 back ($2.95 for genuine gold) if you are not thrilled with this extremely prestigious desk plaque.

And look at this:"quantity discounts to businesses." So all the other Harold J. Normans and Willy Lomans at the office can put them in their cubicles, too.

A Plasticast Of Thousands

Make lots and lots of money at home! It's as easy as pouring water out of a glass. Except it isn't water. It is liquid plastic. You can make millions of useful things, I hear.

That is a lot of things. I imagine that the annoying clutter might outweigh the usefulness of figurines and "gems" and fishing lures.

Such is the Wonder of Liquid Plastics. And also of Liquid Marble, Ivory, Glass, Ceramics and "Etc" They don't want to tell us what "Liquid Etc." might be, which is slightly disturbing. So I am wondering about what that might be.

But there are even more wonders. Such as: I wonder if anyone really thought people would pay for a liquid-plastic gear or knife handle. I wonder how much of a mess this made in your garage or basement (I'm guessing quite a lot).

And I wonder how many "lucky coins" the Plasticast Company received from unlucky people thinking that this "will start the most fascinating and profitable phase of your life!"

Advertisement from Science and Mechanics magazine, 1955.

NOTE: As far as I can tell, Blogger seems to have run off with my titles. And I am working on getting them back! Ugh. Anyway, the title of this is supposed to be "A Plasticast of Thousands."

Not Lazy, Not A Laxative

This is not the way to impress people.

Maybe you are somewhat energetic. Well, for a disembodied head, anyway...But wait. The head is happy that the Milk of Magnesia is not lazy. In fact, it is so energetic that the rest of him seems to have disappeared.

Oh dear. That's no good.

[From the Toronto Star, 1951.]

******
And thank you so much to Crystal Raen for the Your Blog Is Fabulous Award!

Plenty Fun

Here's the Weird Classified Ad of the Week: three for the price of one, from a 1947 Popular Mechanics. Well worth the scanning, the enlarging, and editing. I am crazy about tiny ads, they tend to be incredibly wacky and sort of semi-hidden there in a magazine or newspaper. You really never know what you are going to find.

Take these three, for example. Sometimes when you read them in sequence they read like a story. A mystery story, of course.

Classified #1: What could Inventor Ozment (I love that!) be sending you to improve and correct your handwriting? Just ask the Wizard of Ozment and he will send you - something plenty fun! Maybe a typewriter.

Classified #2: What would lead you to want to pretend to go to Boston? How many people want to do this? Whatever the reason for your fake trip, it's probably shady. (You wouldn't believe how many of these ads I found. Who are all these people faking travel?)

Classified #3: While you're not-visiting Boston,why not send a few letters from New York, Boston and Providence? The mysterious Mr. Desmarais can post them for you...from Attleboro? What's up with that? Maybe he's subcontracting.

******

Coming Attractions, Varying From Week to Week

The MCP Ad of the Week - a dose of the antifeminist past, still possibly relevant in the present!

Retro Celebrity Gossip - Scandal isn't exactly new...

The Weekly Retro Recipe - Good, Bad, or Indifferent, recipes from the past - untested and unproven. Like going to northern Labrador, only with better appliances!

The Royal Scam - uh, these would be retro scams.

Retro Candy of the Week - 20th century sugar highs, straight from the Five and Ten.

Retro Job Opportunities - Make $1000s per hour! Easy work! Don't even leave your armchair! Become a millionaire while falling asleep watching lousy TV shows!...Like that.

...And more, as I think of them. Or as you think of them. Feel free to make suggestions!

Command Performance

You certainly will be popular if you do what Dr. Sylvanus Duvall tells you to do. Not just tells: commands! He commands you to buy his book and follow his secrets of getting along with people!

Basically you want to get people to see things your way, cast a "psychological net" over them, and dominate everyone in the room. Then you make them do what you want!

Looks like just holding the book, which is radiating confidence (or something) is going to be enough to get people to see things your way and pretty well be the czar of every social gathering. Maybe you are supposed to hit people over the head with it if they don't agree with you. That'll convince them.

Plus you can get your boss to see things your way too - you can imagine how useful that is going to be.

"Watch your opponent wilt!"

"Never again will anyone be able to kid or mislead you!"

Look into the "deep recesses" of people's minds.

Won't you just be the life of the party! What fun it will be to hang out with you. The invitations will pour in, no doubt about it. Advertisement from Esquire, 1966.

Another Woodbury Deb

You're not just any old baby, my girl. You are a debutante. In white satin. Yes, you are! Now stop that drooling and listen up. You will wear ballgowns. You will be popular. There will be many, many gentleman callers.

I can't be out there waltzing around the cotillion anymore. Because I'm here at home dressed up like Alice in Wonderland looking after you. It isn't that I mind or anything...well, not really. As long as you're the top debutante of 1965, that's all that matters.

No pressure, kid. Really. Amanda Wingfield here is going to relax and just enjoy watching you grow up and develop into your very own person...

...Provided that "your very own person" is defined as "top debutante of 1965" and "perfect young lady who does whatever Mother suggests."

Let's see, this ad is from 1947. So the kid will be reaching her late teens in the mid-1960s. And she won't want to go to formal parties wearing a white ballgown. There will be a backlash. Can you imagine what sort of fighting is going to be going on between these two in the future? Someone's going to have her mouth washed out with soap, all right.

Guess what kind.

From Duke University's Ad Access collection.

The Modocrylic Van Dyke Show

Where to begin?

This was a little ad I found in the Old Farmer's Almanac for 1972 - and perhaps the old farmers thought that this was an exciting and romantic look - the fake dark whiskers and light hair. The look that says: I do not look impressive - anytime.

If that isn't exciting and romantic, well, I don't know what is.

The old farmers must have been having some wild "mood times," because one of the big pluses of this stuff is that you can take it on and off really fast. What are they planning to do, rob banks?

The wig people are in a bossy "mood time": "Send for Mustache, Sideburns and Van Dyke at once!" No "please," nothing! Send for it all and send away now, you Old Farmers! It is made of Modocrylic, after all - there's nothing more mod, or more plasticky, than that. And that's a good thing.

And check out the name of the company - the Masculiner Company. If you buy all this terrible trashy hairy false wiggy stuff, you will become - more masculiner. Well, laughable, too. But that''s a small price to pay.

Some Wild And Crazy Pencils

Pencils and fun - now there's two words you don't find yoked together too often. Try sharpening the ones around here and you will not be calling pencils fun, trust me. Annoying, yes. Splintery. Frustrating. Stupid and cheap.

But these pencils are "Full-Of-Fun." Also "Crazy." And if you count them you'll see that there are already eight pencils in the back. What is the dominant one at the front doing there? Who invited him? This one is the Dean Martin of the pencil pack. The Alpha Pencil.

Those other ones are just the backup group. They look a little beaten-down. Especially the rubber one in the middle. I think that one's going to be quitting the group any minute now. Maybe he could join a little circus with some dollar store erasers.

They all have different shtiks. One has a hammer head, like a shark. The tough guy, I guess. One has a whistle for a head. That's the noisy, obnoxious one. The one with a tiny magnifying glass will be snooping in the drawers in no time. It'll roll under the furniture and check out all the things that fell behind the couch, too. It's up to no good. Watch out for it.

The puzzle-top is the deep and quiet one - the George Harrison of the group, if you will (moving on from the Rat Pack - please!). And the pencil that writes in four colors - that one'll be moving to an ashram later on to try and figure out what his true self really is. He'll have to pretend that the wooden pencil box in the closet is an ashram. Maybe George the puzzle-top will join him in there later.

The one that predicts the weather is a little bit bizarre. What if it starts talking to us like those "weather personalities" on TV? Wouldn't that be fun and crazy. I get enough of that every morning as it is. Weather people are always so happy when there is an ice storm or a heat wave. Because they're in that climate-controlled studio, that's why.

Finally, there's the "unique mystery pencil." The pencil manufacturers don't even want to tell us what that one's all about. What is up with that? Is it the pencil that is pointing up in the picture, whereas the rest of them (except the Alpha one) are pointing down?

Full-of-Fun, Crazy Retro Question: What on earth is a Unique Mystery Pencil?

Eczema And The Single Girl

Welcome to the Retro Anti-Feminist Ad of the Week! Some weeks of course it may be - not an ad. For example, I have part of an article (i.e. torn out page saved in book for recipe, but with article bit on reverse - are you still with me?) in which male comedians joke about how women don't "get" funny stuff. Oh, we get it all right. And so will those male comedians! Only not today....I'm gearing up for that one.

Today we're going to talk about Married versus Single. Because actually it has nothing to do with your marital status. It has everything to do with using dry skin lotion though. And whether you actually care about how you look. Because everyone knows that once you get hitched, you start wearing outfits designed by Krook's Rag and Bone Shop. You let yourself go. You just don't care.

Being Single, conversely, means you actually mind if you look like an old dried-up lizard that's been baking on a rock in the Gobi Desert since Grover Cleveland was President. Or since Genghis Khan was stomping around causing unmoisturized havoc.

It's succinct, is what this ad is, managing to insult and offend all women regardless of their marital status. It's an equal opportunity anti-feminist statement. Impressive.

What is not impressive, though, is that bikini bottom. No, children, those are not her underpants. I remember the bathing suits on women back in 1968 (from observation, as I was only six at the time) and this was within the range of fashionable. You also saw this fabric on sofas. Maybe the "Married" women covered their sofas in old bikini bottoms, since they weren't flouncing around the beach with bottles of skin lotion. Or else they were hiding out in Mongolia with the other reptiles, plotting havoc.

[From Good Housekeeping, 1968 - strangely enough, not from Cosmo, where it would fit in perfectly.]

Congealed Weapons

It was about time for a Bad Retro Recipe, really it was. And when I want one of those, I always check my beloved Holiday Inn International Cookbook from 1971. Full of odd things to eat, and touchingly overheated descriptions of the delights (mundane at best) awaiting one at various Holiday Inns.

Anyway, these young ladies look happy. The one nearest to us does, anyway. I suspect that she was the one who didn't order the Congealed Cucumber Salad. Get a load of the two sadsacks in the background though. Congealed is the perfect word for the looks on their faces.

I know, I know - "congealed" salad just meant that it was gelatin-based, which seems harmless enough. But in conjunction with the word "cucumber" - it just doesn't seem right.

You could have this salad if you were visiting the Holiday Inn at Greenville, Alabama. The cookbook notes that roast beef, fried chicken and homemade rolls are the "favorites" on the Greenville menu. They then follow that with the recipe for something that presumably is not a favorite:

CONGEALED CUCUMBER SALAD

1 1/2 cups boiling water
1 box lime gelatin
1 cup grated cucumber
1/2 cup sour cream
1 Tb grated onion
salt to taste

Pour water over gelatin. Stir and let stand until it begins to set. Then sneak up on it and add the rest of that stuff. Mix it up and pour it into molds or something. Stuff it in the fridge. Then dump it onto some lettuce and blob mayonnaise on top. Put in front of four people, who probably ordered the roast beef or the fried chicken, and are waiting for those homemade rolls. Ha ha, that'll teach them to complain about the slow service.

Note: I jazzed up the instructions, but I guess you knew that. They would never write up a recipe like that! Can you imagine putting cucumbers into a Jell-O mold? Cucumbers are practically all water with a bit of green cellulose. Or something.

Bon appétit, girls!

Oh, and thank you to Telstar Logistics over at Flickr for the cool postcard image.

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Speaking of thanks, I also want to thank my pal ettarose for the Kreativ Blogger and Lemonade awards. Please do go visit her over at Sanity On Edge, she is really funny and cool.

Louie Louie Miller Hat

I want to try out some new things and new features here on Kitchen Retro over the next few months - feel free to suggest things you would like to see here, too. I may do some weekly features, such as an Amazing Retro Job Opportunities, Vintage Scams, and the Anti-Feminist Ad of the Week. I'll be playing around with this and jazzing the site up as I go (that's the idea, anyway). I want to talk more about old movies, old Hollywood gossip, old comics and TV shows too. Oh, and the bad Jell-O recipes. I miss those. Maybe a weekly Bad Recipe is in order too.

Also there are other retro things I would like to talk about, much as I love magazine and newspaper ads. How about matchbooks and postcards and flyers and almanacs? Those are tons of fun, too. Bring them all on, I say!

And like I said, suggestions are welcome!

But anyway...

...On your left would be the incredible Retro Job Opportunity for this week. How would you like to learn how to make a lovely hat? You would? Well, let me introduce you to Louie Miller, who knows her way around exclusive "salable" hats - I presume that what Miss Miller means is that you will be able to get money for them.

When I first scanned the ad quickly, I thought it said "salad hats." Well, who knows, with these ads? I wouldn't put it past some of them to sell salad hats! They'd go with the candy hats over at my little museum of historical oddities.

You will be under Louie's personal direction, of course. That's what the ad says! I assume that means she will be coming to your house. She is bringing you a lot of hat-making things, too. Better make sure everything's tidy and that you are ready to start a profitable business. And make some cucumber sandwiches! Have the cocktail shaker ready, too. We don't know how long it will take to make an exclusive salad hat, you know.Over here you can see a genuine Louie Miller hat made of black velvet, with a little gold mesh scarf tied around it. I don't know if you'd be ready to do something like this right away, of course.

Shift of topic to tie in the title with the post: As I was writing this, I kept hearing the song "Louie Louie" in my head. It was almost like being back at one of those tawdry high school dances, standing in the badly-lit cafeteria, being bombarded with a crackly sound system and the odor of decades worth of bad hot dogs and teenage angst. Too much fun, in other words!

By the way, the true lyrics of "Louie Louie" (written by Richard Berry in 1955 and performed by the Kingsmen in 1963) are discussed here at one of my favorite websites, The Straight Dope. The lyrics do not have anything to do with millinery, though. But since people have been misinterpreting them for decades, you could probably work in a hat or two. Even a salad hat, come to think of it.

Delsey Morning

"At last," huh? You might want to try smiling a little bit, if you're so pleased. Just try to look like Delsey's isn't made out of wood bark and sandpaper. It may well be "wonderfully different," but your expression suggests that the wonderful difference will appeal only to the more masochistic consumer.

And a note to the ad writers: women do not "ask repeatedly" about the variables in toilet paper. Really, they don't. They actually spend time thinking about many, many other things! Unlike yourselves. I think that you guys are the ones who are thinking about toilet paper a lot.* Can we all say "projection"? Who's been asking repeatedly for Delsey's down at the ad agency, gentlemen? That's all right - you don't have to name names. It may be the McCarthy era (this gem is from 1951), but fortunately, this is a Canadian ad.

Next time, maybe you could get one of the ad writers to stand in for Nurse Ratched. I'm sure he'll be able to summon up a little more - enthusiasm.

From the Toronto Star, 1951.

* I know, of course, that there were women who wrote ad copy back then - but this really seems like one of the ones they didn't work on.

Get Busy With Listerine

Talk about having a lousy time. Not only are you playing bridge with a rubber-headed orc in a suit, but - you have infectious dandruff! How can this be? Infectious in what way? Is this medically proven?

Oh, don't be silly, of course not. The Listerine people just want you to "get busy with Listerine." No one's going to give them awards for subtlety, that's for sure.

All you have to do is dye your hair back to brown, change into a light-colored blouse, and - now this is the getting-busy part - dab your scalp with Listerine.

Apparently this is a delightful treatment. Perhaps not delightful for your scalp. Or for your nerve endings. Or your hair. But delightful in some ineffable, pleasure-denying-Puritan sort of way.

This advertisement is from the Duke University Ad Access collection, which is not the least bit annoying, but is in fact quite fabulous.

Erica has a great Listerine post at Mental Hygiene, here - go and have a look!

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And speaking of quite fabulous, Diesel over at Mattress Police has been nominated for a 2008 Weblogs Award in humor, and the voting festivities are all week over yonder. I know that he'd be as pleased as the lady applying Listerine to her hair, if you went over there and voted for him.

Also my friend Daisy the Curly Cat is up for Best Pet Blog, so please go vote for her, too. I visit her site every day and she really is the best!

The Floor That Has Everything

Wow, it has everything! Or rather, 'everything,' which sounds a little - coded. Ironic. What does that even mean?

Maybe she really does think the floor fulfills all her desires. Maybe she thinks it makes a lot of money. Or that it washes itself and the rest of the house. Perhaps she hears it making sparkling conversation.

And who's on the other end of the phone? Maybe the ceiling.

When she does talk to the floor next, she might want to ask it what happened to all the furniture. And what it's planning to make for supper. Before it boxes her in with the brushes it's got in its strange power.

You can't see them, lady, but we can. And you might want to get off the phone right about now.

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Thank you to my friend RetroKimmer, who has a terrific retro/vintage blog, for the Lemonade award!

Frostilla: The Battle Against Chapped Hands!

No, Frostilla never does have chapped hands. She would not allow this to be! Frostilla is all-powerful and she will be very angry if her skin allows itself to become red and scaly.

She is, of course, the beauty-minded cousin of Jadis, the wintry and demonic queen in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. C.S. Lewis did not write about Frostilla because he did not understand enough - that is to say, anything - about the art and science of preventing chapped skin and generally staying gorgeously lovely in the permanent cold weather.

She is gigantic, compared to the child heads above her hand. And if she urges you to use her cream, well, you had better go run to the store and get some. Never mind the "costly ingredients." I don't even want to know what they might be.

Frostilla has clearly transformed those children into disembodied heads as a punishment for all the "dishes, diapers, [and] drudgery" that she has known.

Talk about being a little hostile. Don't hold back so much, Frostilla, this ad is from the 1950s, the neo-Freudian era. Tell us how you really feel!

On second thought - never mind, ma'am. I think we can puzzle it out on our own.

Frozen Assets

No, dinner won't be late. It will be revolting, though.

I know, because I used to eat Swanson TV dinners in the 1960s, and they (a) did not look anything like this and (b) looking like this isn't an enormous plus, anyway. Just how many of those things did she buy on the way home? Look at her unloading stacks of them from that bag. There's a gourmet extravaganza in store in that house!

The guy looks happy, but I suspect he already ate a hamburger somewhere and has got into the beer and potato chips.

Thank you very much to Bayswater97 for this splendid 1950s ad!

Lifebuoy Meets World

"Look what happened when we STOLE DAD'S SOAP!"

Yeah, look what happened. For one thing, Dad's been reduced to a smiling shell of a man, hiding behind a pipe and newspaper. When was the last time he had a bath, anyway? Nobody knows. OK - uh, let's just leave him over there for now.

Ma doesn't seem to mind, because she's busy following the kids around. She needs to talk about Dad's soap with them. They stole it, after all! They are soap thieves, and the guilt is consuming them all...Wait. No, it isn't.

In fact, life has become positively lush for them since they began this life of crime.

Sis has become popular with some guy named Jim, because she no longer stinks of perspiration. Her mother (who may be Donna Reed's evil twin) leans down to point this out: "men do like a girl to be dainty!" Also they like them not to be soap thieves, ma.

But never mind, dad is so thrilled that little Johnnie hasn't had a cold all winter that he just doesn't care. Kid's not sneezing on the Herald Tribune and coughing into the pipe tobacco, so it's all good. And the older brother no longer has "warworker hands" - I guess that's like dishpan hands, only more patriotic.

Do these people only have one cake of soap in the whole house? If so, why is it designated to be dad's - that's a misnomer! Dad won't see that soap until it's a little new-moon crescent, the kind that boomerangs right out of your hands and head for the drain.

Why is ma suddenly at the side of each child as they gush about the soap? Is she bribing them? Why is she dressed up in her Sunday best? The finale will explain all: she's conniving to steal the soap for herself!

Because in the last panel, ma's jumped in the bathtub. She says she's been perspiring in a hot kitchen but frankly - I don't think so. Not in that little suit and hat she wasn't. She has no time to go in a kitchen, hot or cold. She's too busy needling the kids about how they used to be stinky, sickly and scratchy.

Meanwhile, dad is just sitting there smoking - well, whatever he's got in that pipe. Must be terrific stuff. Maybe it's Lifebuoy.

This 1943 saga is from Duke University's Ad Access.