Extra Soapy Soap

See tiny women gather round
A bar of Sunlight that they've found
Reclining in a burst of glory
Symbolizing the old story:

Products of enormous size
Make consumers realize
Goods are extra extra good
If they dwarf the neighborhood.

Sunlight is completely pure
Which adds to its immense allure!
And since it eschews naughty fun
It ought to get the washing done.

But is it not both lame and dopey
To praise soap for being extra-soapy
Why, what else would it be, pray tell?
Is this the magic that will sell

Sunlight to those with tiny sinks
Who gaze upon the sudsy Sphinx;
Pray, ask it one last riddle more:
How will it fit through the front door?

******
Thank you very much to the Entrecard top ten droppers for February:

My Note's
A Simple Life
Mommy's Little Corner
The Modern Mom
The Ad Master
What's On My Mind Today
Programming Made Easy
Life's Sweets and Spices
Crotchety Old Man
Rocket Scientist

And also many thanks to everyone else who visits and comments!

Working In the Twilight Zone

If you are "mechanically inclined and can hold tools" - well, just turn the page. Don't send away for the amazing electronic kit. But once you begin to look at the ad, you cannot turn away! You must write to the so-called Christy Trades School and get a "free BIG book."

Soon you will have a free BIG head. After that, there will be a free BIG trip to another dimension.

So it doesn't matter how much money you're going to be making. Because soon, you will be traveling to the planet Zircon, where all the other part-time electrical technicians have been taken, their heads now programmed to work for Zirconic domination of the galaxy.

That is, in fact, why they say there is a need for electricians on planet Earth. Didn't it occur to you to wonder why? Too late now. Sci-fi Charlie Brown wants you to join him in rigging up that - electrical thing he has on the table. I don't know what it is, but I am worried.

This startling ad is from Startling Detective magazine (1964).

The Ad of Laughter and Forgetting

1. "A noted publisher in Chicago" = we don't remember his name, ironically enough.

2. A "simple technique for acquiring memory...that works like magic" = expensive, convoluted and, just like stage magic, relies on optical illusion, deception and verbal trickiness.

3. "The publishers have printed full details" = uh oh, we forgot their names, too.

4. "Mailed free to anyone" = you'll pay later, somehow. We forget how, though.

5. And what in the world is Hugh Laurie doing in this ad?

6. Oh, I know, it's Just Some Guy who looks like Hugh Laurie. This ad ran in 1966, so it couldn't be. Don't know who it is, really. Nobody knows. If they did, they forgot.

Brillo Haiku

Jailed in the kitchen,
Scrubbing piles of pots and pans -
Even the suds sigh.

Invisible bars
Hold her back from playing bridge
And eating bon bons.

This lousy kitchen
Sink fills as if by magic
With large crusted pots.

Oh brilliant Brillo
Pads full of jeweler's polish,
Release this sadsack!

See her shine a pan,
Then glow with enlightenment.
Steel wool nirvana.

Buy Brillo, feel swell:
A clean kitchen brings release.
That's their satori.

But know this, lady:
You are only out on bail.
Next meal is coming.

The Life Of The Party

Just in case that electric bow tie doesn't get you banned from the neighborhood shindigs, here is the 1948 version of the karaoke machine. What fun it will be to listen to this happy guy - this could be you! - talking and singing- and singing and talking - on and on through his little Radio Microphone.

Now you should know that you can broadcast "from any room." Oh, that's good! Guess where the guests will ask you to broadcast your little variety show from. Maybe from the attic. Or the garage. Maybe a room in another house altogether.

It may be wonderful voice practice, but please don't forget to order that job lot of industrial-strength earplugs as well. The Empire Radio & Television* people may want to think about some kind of special two-in-one deal.

Your friends and family will thank you.

* More fun live from Brooklyn, New York! Well, it's a fun place. Delmar of the Amazing Plans was from Brooklyn, too.

A Talented Temporary

The question for Monday: Do I want a talented temporary? Well no, not really. But I do want to know what you advertising people were thinking when you dreamed up this 1967 ad.

Actually, I can guess. And that is why you are winning my MCP Ad of the Week award, Manpower guys! Oh, the Manpower boys clearly were not just a bunch of pretty faces, they were really thinking very hard about this. I can just imagine:

Now boys, this ad is for a temporary agency called Manpower - har har, because men have power, and women - I mean girls - not so much! So let's call this woman a White Glove Girl. That sounds about right - not powerful, and maybe thinking about fashion and shopping. But not too much, because she's got to do a little bit of work...Hmm, could be tricky. Oh, never mind, no one's thinking that hard at the office, are they?

Boys, let's just tell the model to look confused and ditzy! That'll appeal to the executives! We don't want to get too cerebral with them, they have to save those brain cells for - well, the important decisions they're making every day. How many martinis to have at lunch. Whether to put paper in the In tray or the Out tray. What kind of doughnuts everyone likes at meetings. That sort of thing.

Maybe we could just use an old picture from an ad for industrial strength hairspray, or extra-dark eye makeup. Or for white gloves, the kind women wear when they go out shopping. Don't want her to look more intelligent than the boss, you know. So we'd better tell her to look really confused.

There is one small problem though. You may not get any women actually wanting to work for the agency.*

*That was supposed to be a funny punchline. The operative word being "supposed." I can see how many places they had their agencies, and this is pre-1970s Women's Movement, I know, they had a LOT of women working for them. What can I tell you, it's Monday. Tomorrow ought to be better. Probably.

The Petrified Hairstyle

It isn't such a long way from the Highway of Love to the Petrified Forest. Overdo the cans of hairspray, and maybe swig a little too much Listerine, and who knows where you'll end up? Maybe with your hair looking like this.

Yes, I am sure every woman will want her hair to evoke the image of dry, crunchy leaves in varying shades of yellow, orange and brown. Crunchy, dying, desiccated leaves that are about to, you know, fall off the tree. Oh, yes please, make me look just like that. Hook me up to the Madison Wireless and give me a MacDonald Steam! All of which sound like Victorian industrial equipment. I guess it might be, at that. It takes a lot of horsepower to get hair to look like falling leaves!

This is the ideal girl for that log guy from last week - isn't she lovely? They share the same arborial obsessions, only she's into old leaves and he can't stop thinking about bark.

But where will she go to get steamed and Pemberoiled? I don't think there are any fancy hair salons in Algonquin Park.

From the Canadian magazine Mayfair, November 1935. It was aimed at the high-society set, as you might guess from the title.

A Hitchhiker on the Highway of Love

The title is the perfect opening line for a country and western song, or a True Confessions story. But instead, we find ourselves (once again) in a Listerine ad.

She was a glamor girl during the season of 1938. As long as people stayed far back, that is. But as soon as the menfolk got within hailing distance - oh, you know the story! This is a Listerine ad, so you can see what's coming down the Highway of Love, can't you? It's not a Streetcar Named Desire.

One night, our heroine "returns from the powder room and was seated behind some portières"* - that's straight out of a sudsy 1930s romance novel. Even though all she means is that she's hiding behind some old drapes. What she hears is not straight out of a sudsy 1930s romance, though. Her date, Mr. Simpson, is not fetching punch and cookies, he is complaining about his date:

I don't think I can last out the evening. She has a case of halitosis that a greyhound couldn't jump over. You'd think she'd never heard of Listerine.

Oh, that's nice. And here she was too polite to mention all the brilliantine he'd put on his hair. She was going to say that a greyhound might jump over that, only to skid all the way across the dance floor. But it is always after the party that we think of what to say.

Of course she goes home, is distressed, consults a doctor and then starts in with the gargling. Many purification rites ensue. And in the end, Listerine leads to matrimony (as usual) - only not with that simpleton Simpson. With "a man just as eligible."

Just as? Oh come on, let's make it someone much more eligible, and wealthier, and with way better hair products. And then you can drive off together down that highway in a brand-new 1938 Chrysler Imperial. That's the way to end an ad like this!

This fab 1938 ad is from Duke University's Medicine and Madison Avenue (you can see the larger version there, of course).

* Just like Scarlett O'Hara making the green velvet dress out of her mother's "poteers."

Questions For Madame Zeus

Madame Zeus says that she will please and amaze us all if we send a dollar and our names and birthdates to her.

It would please and amaze me to learn the answers to these questions:

-Why does she think I will be afraid of what she can find out about me? What exactly does she think I've been up to?

-Why Madame Zeus and not, say, Madame Hera? Hera was Zeus' wife, after all, in Greek mythology. Is there then a Monsieur Hera? If so, what does he do?

-How is it that Madame Zeus can be "Of London, England," yet her contact address is in Oakland, California? That's quite a commute every day, you know.

And if she isn't commuting, and her bags of mail aren't being forwarded...I suspect Monsieur has been up to something that will amaze us all. And I'm not afraid to find out what it is, either.

Menswear Haiku

This guy looks quite sad.
Freedman may make guys look good.
Comfortable? No.

Look at him gesture:
Is he making brilliant points?
I do not think so.

Freedman wants to say:
Men look very very good
In these boring suits.

I say Freedman seems
Very insecure because
Too many verys.

Sir, why do you stand
Behind a box of strange height
Looking so depressed?

Unlucky yes-man
Stuffed into scratchy garments
Aims for debonair:

Alas, he just looks
As if large Canada geese
Nip at him unseen.

The Electric Light Jazz Bow Tie Orchestra

These amazing novelties are so sensationally tiny, mysteriously scientific and electrically jazzy that I don't know where to begin. This is cutting edge entertainment, you know. Plus you will be the social success of the year with any one of these things.

Imagine if you brought all three to a party. People might never recover.

Now first, for a very low price, is the World's Smallest Radio which you can use absolutely anywhere. Well - almost. You do have to connect one clip to a ground and another "to a bit of aerial wire." You might have to twist yourself into a pretzel and stand out on the roof or something, but people will be so impressed. And for double the fun, get two so that you and a friend can play Walkie-Talkie Twister.

As for Guzzlin' Charlie - well, there's one in every crowd, as they say. But usually he's not a mystery drinking bird. Although the roly-poly eyes sound familiar. And the not being mechanically inclined. Apparently young and old go wild over watching the little plastic birdie drink a glass of water. That's some tough crowd.

Now if they really are a tough crowd, there's one more trick you will have up your sleeve - or rather, on your collar. An Electric Light Jazz Bow Tie, of course. Those friends of yours will be so amazed they may not be able to get up off the floor (either that or they're trying to out-guzzle Charlie). What fun it will be directing flashes of light right into their faces. "Have loads of fun," no kidding. I'm not sure what the jazz part of the tie is though. Maybe you can rig up the World's Smallest Radio for that.

Breakfast Surreal

OK, it's time to step away from the Raisin Bran. Just put those boxes down and - just find something else to eat or to do. Take some deep cleansing breaths maybe. Relax a little.

There must be some secret ingredient that makes Skinner's Raisin Bran unlike any other! Any ideas as to what that might be? Girlfriend looks like she's been awake and wired for a week. Instead of cleaning the kitchen for the fifth time, she really ought to see if she can find a place for all the extra Ladies' Home Journals she bought for the coupons.

Backlogged

Sir, there is a simple explanation for your condition. It seems that your back is stiff as a log.

That is because it is a log.

Also I'm not sure where your right arm is. It may be transforming into a branch. In any case, arborization (I just made that word up) looks like it may be your primary problem.

No need to confuse the issue with such strange hyperbole as "exercise acids." Perhaps you mean lactic acid. You make a lot of that if you lift weights, but it shouldn't cause you loads of pain days after you played with that medicine ball down at the gym or anything. That is a fallacy, sir! (I looked it up in Wikipedia just now, so I know!)

Bottom line: you're turning into a tree. That seems to be the real problem. And no amount of Absorbine Jr. is going to fix that.**

Never mind, there may be a career in acting ahead of you. You could be one of the Ents in Lord of the Rings. And there was a Mr. Grumpy Tree on the Canadian children's show Dudley the Dragon. Just lay off the Absorbine, and you'll have all the requirements for the role.

This ad is from the mid-1930s, from a Canadian magazine (I just found a little brace of them in my favorite secondhand bookstore, and they are wonderful - although they are so enormous that the best ads are going to be tricky to scan. You needed to know all this, I know.)

**It would be worth asking why the public is not being offered Absorbine Senior. That must be the company's version of Private Stock.

******

Thank you so much to Maria of the wonderfully funny Curly Wurly, for the Superior Scribbler award!

What Ever Happened To Baby Jane's Hair?

Hello there, Miss Joan Crawford! You are my retro celebrity of the week. I may not have one every week, but here you are.

And don't you look charming with that lovely "camera-ready" hair. Are you sure you didn't dunk your head in a vat of India ink? Oh...yes ma'am, I understand. Please don't get angry. It's Clairol all right. And you are divine! And, of course, camera-ready.

She may have used a little Clairol on those eyebrows, too, now that I think of it. But I am afraid to ask.

******
Joan Crawford (1905-77), born Lucille LeSueur, started acting in the 1920s in silents and won an Oscar for her performance in Mildred Pierce (1945). One of her more notorious later films is the 1962 thriller Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? in which she co-stars with Bette Davis.

For more info on Joan Crawford, I recommend: Joan Crawford: The Best of Everything - a fabulous virtual encyclopedia; and also the ubiquitous Wikipedia bio.

Clairol ad from 1952 thanks to Duke University's Ad Access.

The False Little Friends

And you thought they were your friends.

Apparently they are not. They have been talking - nay, shouting - behind your back. What a clever trick that was, because if they are in your mouth, how can they shout things without you noticing?

Mind you, from the look of the couple there on the left, I think I'm beginning to comprehend it. They don't look tremendously plugged into reality. So maybe their little false friends have been spreading rumors and shouting about how yellow they are, without these people suspecting a thing.

Plus they believe the Polident pundits when they say it "Works Like Magic." like magic, folks! Step right up. Just - just not too close, now.

This charming little 1939 ad is from the charming and delightful Duke University Ad Access collection.

Amazing Plans!

These 1950s classifieds might cover most of what you need - that is, if you are bored, worried, uninformed and need to lie low for awhile.

Add in a few cups of coffee and this sounds a bit like a typical morning for me. Except for the desire for a Chicago address.

So let's have a look:

1. A Continental Caper. What sort of racket is being conducted over at 20-H West Jackson? Actually, I want to know the stories of the people who used this service.

2. Sleepless In Flushing. Raymond Dow has a magical invention for us. Ear plugs! But Raymond, I can get these at the drugstore. Thanks anyway, though. You might want to try drinking some warm milk before bedtime, I hear that helps, too.

3. Edna Explains It All To You. Edna? As in Margie and Edna? I am not surprised that you are a Research Specialist! You and Margie know a lot of things, so I would be glad to ask you some questions. For example, could you find out who wants that fake Chicago address, and why? Because I really want to know!

4. Advice For A Dollar. You're out of luck if your problems are legal or medical. So please don't ask about whether a fake address is a good move. Or about ear plug issues. And you may not get advice, exactly - just an analysis. If you already understand your problems this may not be the best idea. Maybe you should just ask Edna.

5. Armageddon In Jefferson City. Now this one is free! You can learn the date the world is ending. Guess that will solve all those research questions and personal problems. Note: the ad was printed 55 years ago, so they may have got the date wrong.

6. Amazing Plans! What thrills are in store for us, Prager? I want to know what these plans are and why they are so amazing. And I'll bet you a quarter that they're plans for setting up a business charging people money for "amazing plans."

******

Thank you so much to Staci at Just Bloggled for the Lemonade award!

A Message from the Centre for Disturbance

Well, if this is what the book is going to sound like, I don't think it is going to help make me feel less inferior. It probably helped the Practical Psychologists who wrote it, though. And the more jargon and hyperbole they generate, the better they feel.

[Almanac ad from the early 1970s]

Now Playing: The TV Nuisance

It's a miracle, all right. I don't know how much it has to do with engineering though:

1. It's a miracle that nobody seems to notice that there's a giant television set in the movie theater.

2. And that no one's walked out yet.

3. Because if that's what playing at the Silver Majestic Empire Et Cetera, I want my money back. They say it "blocks out TV nuisances." Obviously, they are lying.

4. Now if this is actually someone's living room (the premise of the ad being that you will feel as if you are at the movies) - we still have several problems:

5. Who put all the hard seats in and took away the sofa?

6. Who are all these strange people, and what are they doing in our living room?

7. Why won't anyone just get up and change the channel? Are they - hypnotized? Are they ever going to leave? Maybe this show will never end.

Emerson, looks like you were elected to go out and buy us all popcorn and soda. Where's the concession stand? I don't know. Try the kitchen. Maybe you could rig up another engineering miracle in there.

Image (circa 1953) from the Duke University Ad Access collection. Thank you, Duke University, for the access and the ads.

******
Thank you very very much to my friends Margie and Edna for the lovely post about Kitchen Retro and Virtual Dime Museum...I have enjoyed visiting them every day for a long time now, as I'm sure a lot of you do too. If you don't, for heaven's sake - go visit!

And thank you so much to Marie at Nourish - who you should also go visit - for the Your Blog Is Fabulous award!

Inquiring Minds Want To Know: Rice Krispie Science

Why do Rice Krispies make that crackling noise in milk?

Inquiring minds at our house wanted to know...So I found out. Without either merrying-up or messing-up the breakfast table. I think they might be pretty much the same thing actually.

But anyway.

Kellogg's Rice Krispies (which are called Rice Bubbles in Australia), first appeared in 1928. They are, not surprisingly, made of rice.

The rice is Krispied by popping it in a way quite similar to the popping of corn (oh look, a little connection with yesterday's post!). The rice grains are cooked, dried and toasted. This gives them a hard outer layer. Then they are popped by being exposed to steam.

The steaming process moisturizes the starch inside the toasted outer layer of the Krispie, and they pop. The popping produces little air chambers inside the Krispied rice - little air chambers and tunnels which have very, very thin walls.

Then you come along, slap them in a bowl and surprise them with an onslaught of milk. They get wet, of course. When the milk reaches the inside of the Krispies, the teeny inner walls collapse very quickly. The sound of the collapsing Krispie walls is the snap, crackle, popping business.

Of course, if you are eating these in another country, you will get a slightly different noise. For example, if you are in Quebec, you will hear "Cric! Crac! Croc!" (That is louder than snap, crackle, pop, I believe. These are intense Krispies).

In Germany: "Knisper! Knasper! Knusper!" (They are whispering secrets, obviously. What exactly do they know?)
In Finland: "Riks! Raks! Poks!" ( Why not "Roks!" - ? No idea.)
And in Spain they go "Pim! Pum! Pam!" (rather like little drums, no?)

Let's end up with a recipe that uses this noisy cereal - one that is NOT a marshmallow square. This is from To The Bride, a 1956 cookbook/household guide. I think the Chase and Sanborn Coffee people had a hand in it, since every menu suggestion includes - well, you know. This is one of the few recipes that does not involve a certain brand of coffee:

RICE KRISPIES WONDER FUDGE*

1. Take a cup of semi-sweet chocolate and melt in double boiler.
2. Take off heat and add 1/4 butter or margarine and 1/4 cup light corn syrup.
3. Stir in a tsp of vanilla and a cup of sifted confectioner's sugar.
4. Add three cups of Rice Krispies!
5. Mix "lightly" - otherwise those Krispies will suffer! (And they will say more than cric, crac, croc about it, too).
6. Spread it all out in an 8 inch square pan. I think you ought to butter it, though they don't say that.
7. Let it cool off and then cut it up - in squares! The Krispies' favorite geometric shape.
8. I wonder what the "Wonder" part of this fudge is.
9. Maybe that's it - nobody really knows. It's an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Krispies wrapped in chocolate and corn syrup.

Oh, and I know the advertisement is off-season. All the good Krispie ads online are all rights reserved etc., or they seemed like it. And this is what I had.

Next week, tune in for another edition of Enquiring Minds Want To Know! (And I might change that title, we'll just see about that). I do have a few questions in the pipeline - but obviously, if you think of something I would be glad to know about it.

Anything, really - any pop culture stuff, trivia, slang, urban legends, old movies, old TV shows - you name it, I'll try and find out about it, write it up, and link to you, too.

* I rewrote the directions, because we don't have all day, do we? Right.

SOURCES

Well, first of all I ran like the wind to Wikipedia

Rice Krispie explanation on How Stuff Works

Live Science also delves into the Rice Krispie

Embroiled In A Bad Popcorn Situation

Oh, but they ARE saying no to Embro. The happy lady just can't hear them. The popping noise has affected her hearing. But that's too bad, for they are already embroiled in the bad situation. Tough luck, kids.

Here is where a little bit of word association speaks louder than - well, not louder than words, obviously. It IS words. But louder than popcorn.

Because when you think of Embro, you might also think about:

1. Embryo - the obvious, and revolting, choice.

2. Ember - oh, so what they're implying is that the popcorn will be burnt.

3. Embrocation - a liquid topical medication that you rub on if you have a pain or a sprain. And if you eat this stuff, you might have a pain or two.

4. Embolism - obstruction of a blood vessel by an embolus, or clot. No better than #1, really.

5. Embryoma - a kind of tumor. Not any better, either.

6. Embryophyta - something to do with plants.

7. Embroidery - can be OK, but not edible, obviously.

8. Embalming - now we're getting gross again. Ugh, for heaven sake, it's Monday morning. Do we have to go on and on and ON?

Just one more, I promise. This actually ties up the whole post and - well, you'll see. It's not bad, for Monday morning anyway.

9. Embargo - when a country refuses to send goods and things to another country.

Insert joke about an embargo on Embro, right here. Cue the laugh track. Thank you and good night! Or morning. Whatever's going on outside your window, have a blast.

******

Coming tomorrow: Something somewhat new, actually: Inquiring Minds Want to Know! Answering questions about pop culture, trivia of nearly any kind and oddball stuff in general. Tomorrow we're inquiring into something breakfast-related, and will also beseech the reader for future questions! What fun that will be.

Neptune's Mustache Is In Luxembourg

Final Net never takes the weekend off, does it?

When you and your sixpack of hairspray go off to wallow in retro luxury at the Holiday Inn, you might get to enjoy the Retro Recipe of the Week (it's one of those recipe weeks, as it happens - I have that 1971 Holiday Inn International Cookbook sitting on the desk, so here we go).

This lady has put on a basecoat of makeup in keen anticipation of dinner in a fine restaurant (or, this week, of cocktails in an atmospheric hotel bar). And she has on the sort of cowl-necked shift dress that I remember grownups wearing around 1966 (part of the Youthquake they were not).

Let's make this a little bit international, and go to the Holiday Inn in Luxembourg City (I'm sure her hair will hold up on the trip). The restaurant in this early 1970s Holiday Inn is called Trois Glands, which is appetizing, isn't it? Don't worry, it is named for the "acorn-shaped roofs of the fortress Thüngen." Not for three glands. That's what the book says, anyway. Maybe we'll go eat somewhere else.

But first I think we all need a drink in any case, so here is the Retro Recipe of the week, for Neptune's Mustache - specialty of the bar at the Luxembourg Holiday Inn:

NEPTUNE'S MUSTACHE

Take a champagne glass (flute). Put a cherry on the bottom and fill with crushed ice. Then add two bar spoons of creme de menthe (green) and a short jigger of cognac (or brandy).* Serve with a straw and stirrer for a drink as refreshing as ocean diving.

Luxembourg is completely surrounded by land, however. So watch your head, won't you?

* Won't this be an unattractive shade of greenish-brown, rather like seaweed? But perhaps that is what Neptune's mustache is made of.

Advertisement thanks to Wishbook, via Found In Mom's Basement. Thanks, you guys.

You Say Goodbye, And I Say Yellow

No, you don't have to stay home. But it would help if you stayed away from this particular office, too. Perhaps this is a really fine executive washroom. We say washroom in Canada, you know, and this is a Canadian ad, circa 1967. Take a letter, Jamison, then take a shower.

But perhaps "truly fine" is actually code for:

-yellow tiled walls
-olive green raised picture of pseudo Greco-Roman dancing ladies
-fake wood tables and desks (must have extra-sharp corners)
-strangely shiny mint green floor
-curtains made out of my mother's early-Johnson-administration paisley slipcovers
-a fake wood sideboard with cranky olive green head in residence
-yellow plastic and green tweed desk chairs, poised to send the occupants flying across the room at an inopportune moment

Although if the chair you're sitting on happens to zoom out the door, consider the moment opportune.

Delmar and the Mysteries of Desk K-91

It's Classified Friday! I just made that up, of course. Next week on Friday the 13th I will have to find some extra special classifieds. These gems are from a 1955 cheapo pseudo-science magazine:

1. "Interesting Mails" - So interesting, they are in quotation marks. That sounds shady. And after the three months are up, your mailbox will be sad and empty once again. All from Desk K-91 (down the hall, no doubt, from Room 101).

2. "How Can I Find Out?" Well, that depends on what you want to know, doesn't it? Maybe the "Interesting Mails" will be enlightening. If not, William Herman can develop something for you in confidence. Speaking of shady.

3. Your Mailbox Will No Longer Be Lonely. In case those "Interesting Mails" (there they are again!) are not stuffing up your mailbox sufficiently. Get lots of junk mail from shysters, for only a quarter - what a bargain.

4. Delmar is wise in the ways of Power. What kind of power? Well, um. It's like yoga. And telepathy. There's a little hypnotism thrown in too. And it's for Adults Only (now we're really curious!) It's positively Delmonic!

5. In case you need a few extra quarters to fund the flood of exciting junk mail - make money addressing postcards. These may be those no-honest-I-DID-go-to-Boston cards, actually.

6. Oh, and also you might like to grow mushrooms in the cellar. And in the shed. Also outdoors! Babbitt cleaned up doing this. Do they mean Sinclair Lewis' Babbitt, the unhappy, super-conventional smalltown realtor? I always wondered what happened to him.

7. We could also ask J. Cook about Babbitt the Mushroom King. He can secure information on anything...

8. ...Except for hair loss and dandruff. That would be a case for Viggiano the Pharmacist, a Shakespearean Gentleman of Verona (Pennsylvania). But if there is hair loss, how can there be dandruff? Maybe J. Cook knows. Or Delmar. I'm sure Delmar has a theory of two about this.

Life Lessons From Kleenex

Let's play What's Wrong With This Picture, three rounds:

1. Is That A Cold In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To Sneeze On Me?

-The baby kangaroo is not using a Kleenex.
-The baby kangaroo is being compared to a cold (entities that are in pockets, etc.)
- The mother hasn't got any Kleenex or any clue as to how to cope with a sneeze.
- Do kangaroos even sneeze?

2. When Bad Puns Happen To (Potentially) Good Coffee

-Just don't, don't, don't filter coffee with a Kleenex.
-Don't even think about it!
-Not even if you're camping or anything.
-No excuses.
-Instant is better if all you have around the house are some Kleenex, OK?
-Do this and you will have grounds for divorce, or something. It won't help matters, is what I'm saying.
-I doubt that he's really all that happy to see another cup of Kleenex coffee. He actually looks rather dismayed.
-No wonder.

3. The Chipping News

-Here's someone else without the proper supplies.
-I agree that Kleenex might be OK to wrap perfume bottles in, little things like that.
-I did this on a couple of moves, so it must be OK!
-But what's she doing wrapping the china in it? Must take half a box to wrap one dinner plate, plus you'd have to Scotch tape them. You'd have to start packing five years before you actually knew you'd be moving...and that's just confusing to say the least.
-And I doubt that she's really going to polish the stuff with the Kleenex at the other end.

Gimme Some Money - Also, A Hundred Towels

We're all looking for a big towel bargain, right? Well, this here is the biggest towel bargain in the US. Not that I was keeping track or anything.

And just imagine the quality. Not only are these lovely towels unwoven (that sounds dubious!) but you get 50 towels for a dollar (100 towels for $1.89, if you're feeling extravagant).

Don't think that the fun ends with you sitting back enjoying all these BRAND-NEW Deluxe Quality towels, no sirree. You too can go into business for yourself - selling them to other unsuspecting people. You even get "sure-fire MONEY-MAKING Plans" with those hundred towels - and as we know from experience around here, any ad that capitalizes key words is really excellent.

This can only lead to great things!

Speaking of which, let's go multi-media today. Enough already with the ads! This clip is from the classic "rockumentary" This Is Spinal Tap (1984), which chronicles the ill-fated comeback tour of the eponymous group.

It's a faux-retro gem from the time when Spinal Tap was known as the Thamesmen. And it is also a perfect parody of early 60s Stones et alia (and of course, the Beatles' cover of "Money"). All the requisites are here: the nerdy drummer, the narcissitic lead singer,the smirking, and of course the overly-hailed yet uninspiring guitar solo. Go, Nigel, go!

"I'm lookin' for pound notes, loose change, bad checks, anything, gimme some mon-ay..."



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Many thanks indeed to UserFriendly.org (a cool and funny site well worth a visit), for making Kitchen Retro their Link of the Day - and a thousand thanks also of course to Giulia D. for recommending KR (sorry, I don't have a link for you, Giulia, but if you let me know I can add one). I immediately reread Starcasm's fab post on getting Dugg, so I am prepared for the emotional rollercoaster, then the inevitable crash and burn.

Giddy with excitement (rollercoaster commencing!), I did a little research - and apparently when one is Link of the Day (see bottom of the Wikipedia entry) things might get a little bit hectic around here. I'm not assuming it will, but it might. In which case, I'll just run out for more drinks and snacks later on - suggestions, anyone?

Gone Postal

Yes, this guy certainly looks like he's enjoying the correspondence course. Of course, having been turned into a zombie first helped a lot.

You will post the coupon NOW. You will train your mind to SUCCESS. And you will enjoy the "friendly, intimate coaching" (oh dear). Cue the scary music and dim stage lighting.

I think they missed out on a few career options though: D-Movie Villain, Executive Vampire, and Optical Illusion Specialist. Perhaps "Police Subjects" covers some of these? As for the many initials at the bottom, one can only speculate - darkly. From Argosy, 1958.

My Gal Sal Hepatica: The Imaginary Movie

Lulu used to be - well, an urban glamor girl. But then she got hitched and moved to the suburbs. And her bridal euphoria soon turning to - well, to feeling logy. That's Lulu's story, and she's sticking to it. But we know that "logy" is really code for "get me out of here, stat!"

Sal Hepatica to the rescue! For this is a remedy that sounds like it should be starring in a B movie - a tough gal, with a heart of gold. Brought up on the rough-and-tumble streets of New York City! And in this imaginary movie, she's coming to the rescue of her dear old pal Lulu.

Today Lulu is logy because Jack and Betty are coming for dinner. Why, they're the most boring bores in Boreville...with the exception of the guy in the three-piece suit, standing on the right looking vaguely amused. That would be Mr. Lulu. And he's cut from the same beige and sorry bolt of cloth as Jack and Betty.

That's a lulu of a state to be in, Lulu. First off, you need to make up a good excuse for Jack and Betty. You're in no state to play cards...Why, just tell them you're backed up - with work. Tell them something urgent has come up. Tell them your old friend Sal is coming to stay.

Then get on the phone to Sal. But wait - who's that pulling up in the driveway in her snazzy little roadster? Sal, of course - bringing some sparkle into the suburbs - as in some sparkling and medicinal beverages. Champagne, probably. Which may not cure what's ailing Logy Lulu. But it'll be a relief just the same.

Yes, we've all seen the movie. Lulu ends up getting a job as a nightclub singer. Mr. Lulu either becomes her manager or stays behind and gets remarried to Betty (Jack actually had a secret life and had to move away in a hurry).

And Sal? She marries the Quiet Casanova from yesterday's toothpaste ad. You know she wouldn't let him toss her on any doorstep.

Buttercup Almost Forgot

Meet Buttercup. She's over there, on the left. And I think she may be using an alias in this lovely 1950 ad from the Ladies' Home Journal. You would too, if you were this forgetful and openly doltish, and then appeared in an ad in a national magazine. This - plus that expression on her face - makes her perfect for a modern celeb gossip site - she's ahead of her time.

And like a modern celeb, she's got some problems for us to ponder. Man problems and toothpaste problems. Coincidence? Jeepers! I think not.

Let's have 'em, complete with oddly erratic capitalizations:

1. "There was that Jolly Bachelor, Fresh From Kalamazoo, with plenty of Lettuce and 'Object Matrimony' written all over him whose First date was his Last."

He sounds more like a big rabbit than anything else. Maybe it's Harvey. He's a Jolly Bachelor all right. But he likes a person to brush her teeth once in awhile, Elwood P. Doud could tell you that. Elwood would have been tagging along on this date, anyway. Which may be the real reason First Date = Last.

2. "Ditto for the big, bronze Glamour Boy at the Beach last summer, who Kissed her Once, then gave her the Deep Freeze." Ah yes, those bronze glamo(u)r boys. This one put an extra 'u' in glamor, he must have been British or Canadian. And yet - these places are not known for BGBs, really, are they? I wouldn't bother with him anyway, Buttercup (or whatever your real name is). You weren't really dressed for the beach in the first place.

3. "Ditto for that quiet Casanova who took her to the Early Movies then Dropped her on her own Doorstep at half-past nine." That probably hurt all right - depends on how far away from the doorstep he was. And if he's so quiet, how do we even know he's a Casanova? Dropping someone like a FedEx package doesn't sound like a slick romantic move to me.

4. And then there's the "new Boy Friend." We don't know much about him except that he's - well, New. Still has the price code on him! And that she "intends to Keep Him." Easy peasy! With a huge coat like that, she can probably just stick him in one of her pockets. He can make himself useful in there and hang onto the bottle of Listerine she's packing.

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Thank you so much to Bad Gals Radio for the Smokin' blog award!