Cold War Hobbies

Before 400 channels of nonstop television and the internet, people had actual hobbies. Stamp collecting was huge in Mid-Century America, from episodes of My Three Sons to Cary Grant/Audrey Hepburn films.

I found these unopened stamp packets from the 1950s, when kids collected modern dictators and other autocrats,

as well as the stamps of nations ENSLAVED BY RUSSIA!

TV's Fabulous Faces

Here is a Scholastic Book Services edition from 1976. You know - the books you ordered in school and waited 14 weeks for. If your teachers were like mine, they displayed the box of Scholastic books on their desks in the morning and refused to distribute them until the end of the day, keeping you in suspense for hours while wondering what hilarity awaited you in the Dynamite! magazine you ordered.

I barely remember this show. Holmes and Yoyo seemed to be about a luddite cop and futuristic robot sidekick.

This one's for you, Tracy. Maybe it's where you truly learned to appreciate Hal Linden.

Read closely. The author, Peggy Herz, seemed to know more about the skeleton in the closet of Mackenzie Phillips 33 years before the rest of us.

Enter Libra

September 24th is the 1st day of the Libra cycle thingy. In honor of Mom and other Libras:

Tony, Be Gentle.

Taking a Look at Julia Child's Competition

The movie Julie & Julia is all the rage now. The good half of the movie chronicles the efforts of Julia Child to publish a book which ushered in an appreciation of fine foods and the culinary arts to America - Mastering the Art of French Cooking (the bad half of the movie chronicled the disgusting food eating noises of an insufferable modern American couple).

I just went down to our local thrift store to grab some cookbooks from the 1950s and early 1960s. As far as I can tell, these faithfully represent the gastronomic landscape of of the United States during this period, and were the principal competitors of Julia Child.

As they do now, the cookbooks then had a theme, and that theme was COMMERCE. They were principally published by specific foodstuff vendors, or were giveaways by corporations with tangential relationships to the food industry.

Here is a comb-bound offering from Southern Union Gas Company in which they provided the favorite recipes of local winners of the national Mrs. America Contest.

Walking Stew -- a gastrointestinal disorder, or a family favorite of the beautiful Mrs. Tucumcari? You be the judge:

Mrs. Monahans hangs her head in shame near her recipe for "French Style Chicken" made with margarine and on the facing page a pillbox-hatted sourpuss demonstrates a method of ruining a perfectly good cut of veal:

Carnation cottage cheese provided instructions for creating pastel colored party dips.

The Rice Council created Miss Fluffy to bring delicious rice-based recipes to America's homemakers, including this sampling of diseased lady parts.

You were wondering what the life insurance companies had to offer the 1950s cook? MetLife reminded its policyholders there's always a bad egg, and that they would shit on them when they were down.

Each of these cookbooks stretched the limits of its theme. Here 7up argues their product is not just for drinking, it's for eating,

whether it be the "he-man favorite",

or a wholesome dietary supplement for your children.

Here's a kitchen contraption which seemed to be modeled on the alien ships from 1953 War of the Worlds film (except I don't remember the Martian vessels vomiting slaw):

Can you guess which of the four facing recipes match this Saladmaster creation? My guess is the steamed chocolate pudding.

The makers of Southern Comfort reminded the Mid Century woman of her two main duties: (1) mixing drinks for her man when he got home from work, and

(2) sitting on the floor, waiting to toss her man's salad.

Simple Food for Simple People

Yes, it's real.

Go Back 35 Years With Me

Here's a 1974 Playboy Magazine I found. It reminds us of the days when...

denim boots arrived to stay,

an audiophile could get his Helen Reddy fix via 8-track or quadraphonic,

Andy Warhol didn't play second base for the Cubs ,

(note: many people confused Andy Warhol with Ernie Banks. This was probably because Mr. Warhol frequently yelled the phrase, "Let's paint two!" in The Factory.)


an 84 year old Groucho Marx talked about the Sexual Revolution,

men knew how to look like men,

America knew how to make great cars,

you could get a harvey wallbanger in a pop-top can,

cedar choppers and roustabouts could get side jobs as models in cigarette ads,

A guy invented a new saloon game called "Pong,"

Sean Connery was finally unshackled from his James Bond role to play Zed,the Priest of Death from the year 2293,

and women had pubic hair.

Shorthand

Just today I was wondering how to write "penumbra" in shorthand.  Now I know.  How did anyone ever understand these scribbles?

LazyMF Welcomes a New Reader

The recent tragi-gasmic death of David Carradine seems to have caused a disturbance in the collective chi of the martial arts community.  For proof, look no further than the comments I received today from Si-Fu Richard M. Mooney.  As he explains, I have misunderstood the nature of the Powerful Empty Force and violated his copyright interests.  He also provides some pointers in the art of Lin Kong Jing to another of my commenters.

This blog post has generated some interest in the past, including a mysterious offer from a person in England to purchase the rare book.  The sale fell through after many e-mails when the purchaser refused to meet my secret agent (code name "joshmas") in Trafalgar Square the following week and pay for the book in Polish Zlotys (cash only).

As a result of Mr. Mooney's litigious comments I've now had to "lawyer up" and retain counsel.  I know I'm in good hands though because a couple weeks ago I personally witnessed my attorney exhibiting a powerful empty force of his own the day after we consumed too much Booker's 126.8 proof bourbon out by the pool.

Suggestions for the Productive Punishment of Your Children

If you're like me, you've disciplined your children at one time or another by removing all forms of media: "That's it - no more Cartoon Network! No more GameBoy! No more YouTube!"  And if your kids are like mine, they come to you within a few hours of this "punishment," tell you they are bored, and ask what you did when you were a child - before TV video games, the intarwebs and childhood diabetes.  If you're like me, you don't want to tell them the truth - that you entertained yourself in a constant form of a 1970's version of Lord of the Flies which involved nerf footballs, whiffle ball bats, truth-or-dare, skateboards, vandalism and Playboy magazines.

I just discovered this two volume set published by the Boys Scouts of America in 1937 which has given me some ideas to suggest to my bored children.  They are ideas from a more innocent time, and you may want to use them with your kids.

There all all kinds of wholesome games scoutmasters taught their troops.  Boys learned how to slap the duck, skin the snake, seize the bacon and gaze at beavers:

Kids back then used their imaginations.  Think of the fun your kiddos will have when you adapt  this suggestion by telling them they will pretend they are playing Xbox:

There are other (NAMBLA approved) activities which will not only entertain boys, but will also teach them about Native American culture (a/k/a the tradition of the Redman).

Bored on Sunday?  How about some alternative forms of worship like this Wicca log worshipping ceremony:

All children should learn the proper care and storage of milk.

And remember - whichever of these activities you choose, the memories will linger for your children, just as the memories of a Boyscout's time with the Scoutmaster will linger in the scout's mind.

Eine Himbeer Fräulein?

What is worse than than the cuisine in 1960s cookbooks?  

The cuisine in 1960s German cookbooks.

Behold the horrors of Kulinarische Kostelichkeiten:

Breakfast? How about a fried egg in motor oil drippings?  Or maybe a "Parisian Art" vomit omelet?

Get your vitamins with boiled leeks covered in a  silly putty demi glace:

Don't forget the kinder. They may enjoy their food fancied-up like vivisections of Kermit the Frog's head and a smattering of raw vegetables disguised as a transvestite piranha.

For dessert you can play it healthy and go for a Teutonic apple-bot...

...or you can splurge and opt for an infected pear or sauteed Nerf football slices.

And after dinner, what lovely fräulein doesn't want a serving of Himbeer?  Am I right, ladies?  ;-)

A Memo to Mrs. William J. Clinton

Dear Secretary of State Clinton:

As you continue your tour of the world's trouble spots, I humbly offer this guide to aid in your attempt to thaw relations with Iran (Axis of Evil).

Please follow this simple rule when referring to yourself with world leaders:

And please feel free to use this invitation as a model for inviting Iranian leaders to meet with your husband:
Godspeed, Madam Secretary!

The Ice Crapades

There's an old Woody Allen movie in which he says his biggest fear if reincarnation is true is that he'll have to one day watch the Ice Capades again.

I understand that joke now.

Looks innocent when you look at the cover, doesn't it?

The Holiday on Ice show obviously knew you were watching their show while suffering from seasonal depression.  First they washed your blues away with the rat-a-tat-tat of 36 skating snare drummers in garish Thai hooker and doormen costumes.

After they drummed you in chipperness, sophisticated rhythm stylists Jinx Clark and Rudy Richards dazzled you with their two routines - The Hobo meets Mexican Princess and The Music Man - ON ICE!

Then came Tommy Collins (just a carefree guy), the wholesome dance interpretations of Sawyers & Cheadle (no relation to Don Cheadle), and the bizarre appendage of beatnik, Ted Roman.

After the intermission (which probably included bourbon and opium), they rubbed Aladdin's wondrous lamp and revealed a faux-oriental wonderland, including a prancing silver mini-phantom coming to kill you!

But remember, the whole reason the people were there was to be reminded of their holiday duties - buying frightening toys for the children.

I did not know that

I always thought Jackie Gleason searched for Sodom and Gomorrah at Toots Shorr's place.  Apparently he did it in a banana scuba outfit in the Dead Sea.  Who knew?

It's Sweater Time

Winter is upon us.  Cold is in the air and the knitting needles are working furiously indoors.  Here are a few ideas for you crafty readers from some vintage sweater patterns I just picked up at our Friends of The Library Sale.

If there's one thing I learned about sweaters from these patterns is that they make ladies feel special - really special.  Here is a young lady brought to the height of ecstasy as she is draped in in the two-tone pink of her Brunswick Tempo:

Another young woman is here wrapped in post-afghasm bliss, leaving the knitter to wonder where her other arm is hiding:

Sweaters bring happy couples together, whether they be this young couple in their matching outfits for the annual Luling Watermelon Thump...

... or the handsome couple on the slopes (if any of you readers can knit me that sweater with an Acapulco cliff diver in place of the skier, there's good money in it for you)...

...or the sharply dressed pederast and catamite:

And I'm sure there's one thing you'll agree with after you see these pictures below: vintage sweaters bring men together and make them long for each other's rods, pipes, wieners, squirting DDT canisters, double-barreled guns and unsheathed sabres:

Sweaters also bring families together and help keep the kids quiet about their daddies in the closet.

Bad Poetry

It's easy to find awful poetry books.  It's hard to find poetry books so bad they make your jaw drop as you turn each page.  When I saw Nor All Your Wit in a box, I wondered if it was bound in leather. A quick touch revealed its soul - padded naugahyde in harvest gold.  Published in 1973, it brings together an array of poetry that will take you on an emotional journey from which you will not soon recover.

You will "enter Hell" when you read, on page 11, Laura L. Scott's tribute to her canine friend, Mr. Minsky And I:

And be prepared to be slapped in the face when you turn to page 12 and walk with Gene Marshall down the banks of a canal in Napoli and insult a woman you mistake for a street whore:

Compare and contrast the stylings of George Cook and W. Blaine Wheeler as they face off with the simpleton's ode to boredom in A Country Boy versus the Mensa-tastic pseudoepigraphically masturbatory Wrecked Concerns:

Let Hermenegildo Salinas take your heart on a journey where only love can go, then feel the sting as Niles Sorensen harpoons your heart with cold despair on the same page:

There's advice for parents...

...and a contribution to the literature of Father's Day:

I'll leave you with the comforting words of two of the greatest philosphers/poets known to mankind - Persian, Omar Khayyam, and brace-face, Marsha Elaine Kash:

Your Key to a Happy Thanksgiving: Ignore the Vile Bleat and Deadly Darts

I found this clipping in an old psychiatry textbook. We can all benefit from the advice of Dr. Hyman Judah Schachtel as our troublesome "friends" and family gather for Thanksgiving.

Please close your ears to the diabolical slander and have a safe, happy Thanksgiving.

Why Pan Am Went Out of Business

I just got done with a couple long Southwest Airlines flights. My dry roasted peanuts were served with shiny foil packets and the 3 ounce club soda I drank was fresh out of the can and went a long way towards quenching my dry palate. The napkin the efficient flight attendant gave me was trimmed in the same soothing earth tones as the pack of peanuts. Southwest is a very successful airline because they pay attention to details like those.

I just found this in-flight menu from Pan Am airlines from the 1960s. It's pretty obvious why they went bankrupt after you look at this shoddy attempt at customer service. It's an 8" x 11" menu printed on textured watercolor paper that's really rough on the skin. Before he even got to the food and drinks inside, the passenger had to endure a water color painting of some pagans worshipping lion-gods or something. How unsettling is that?

When you open up the menu you immediately notice that the paper on the interior is a different color than the exterior. What were they thinking?! Slipshod! And look at this abomination: they hand taped a daily "Flight Fancy" selection (sole amandine) right there in the menu. Not only is it not centered, THE PAPER IS A DIFFERENT COLOR!!! As Jon Stossel would say, "Give me a break!"

Please Make Them Go Away

Because 2 volumes was not enough for Isaac Asimov:

It also spawned anonymous competitors:

Isaac Asimov and John Ciardi, Purveyors of Smut

There once were two literary icons

Whose pens were governed by hard-ons

     Nasty limericks they did write

     Causing me quite a fright

To erase these thoughts I 'll need multiple Krylons

From Isaac Asimov:

From John Ciardi:

Vintage Mad Libs

I played a lot of Mad Libs with my sister and cousins at Grandma's house back in the 1970s. For some reason I thought they were a product of the 1970s, but I learned otherwise today in an estate sale find of these 3 vintage first editions in unused condition from 1958, 1959 and 1962:

Here is one so you can play along at home:

Dear Friend:

Loyd Shelby needs your vote in the Dallas school board run-off.  He is in a tough battle against his Negro loving opponent.

Isn't it Romantic?

It's never too early to shop for Valentine's Day.

Mad Men Revisited

I've written before about the AMC television show, Mad Men, which explores the misogynist, drunken, philandering racists that worked on Madison Avenue in the early 1960's.  Tonight I found more proof that the show is pretty accurate.

When I grabbed these 3 sales pamphlets from Frank Wheatley Pump & Valve Mfr. (Tulsa, Oklahoma) I knew they were special.  Each issue was mailed monthly to prospective purchasers of large oilfield equipment, were stamped "STRICTLY PERSONAL," and were addressed to "Our Hero"

After looking at these covers from 1960 and 1961, I knew each issue had to be loaded with sexism, racism and other interesting anachronisms.

(Republican: 0 votes.  Democrat: 0 votes.  Organ Grinding Monkey: 1 vote.  Sexy Dame With Black Eye Draped In Licorice Ropes: 5 votes.)

Was there a letter from the publisher explaining away the boys-will-be-boys attitude?  Eunuch it's there:

Racist Funeroos?  You betcha!

Silly drunks?  Okey dokey:

Philandering phun? Allrighty then:

Trifecta of all three on the same page?  Why not? (seriously though, I want that wrist watch):

Marital aids?  Whaaaaaa???

Only in Texas

Yesterday, while on a BBQ outing to Llano, we stumbled upon this in Kingsland, Texas:

(thanks to Josh for the Kodak Disc Camera photography.  Thanks to Edmond for turning his car around)

Meet the Authors

This is Brian Bird:

That is the dust jacket photo of Brian from his 1958 book, Skiffle - The Story of Folk Song with a Jazz Beat.

Not only does Brian lack confidence in this photo, he seems almost apologetic, as if to say, "I'm very sorry I wrote this book.  Please don't waste your time."

Brian lacks the confidence and intellectual prowess exhibited by so many other authors on their dust jacket pics.   I want to share with you my favorites, and I'm going to make this my first blog post that I add to as time goes on.  If you find some you like on your own feel free to share them with me and I'll add them.

First, in the category of pondering intellectual, I give you Sylvester Stallone.  You probably didn't know he was an accomplished writer, but here he is on the back cover of his novel, Paradise Alley, slaving over his IBM Selectric and suffering for his art:

Next, in the category of remarkable displays of arrogance, here is artist Peter Max, who poses with his 1985 Apple Macintosh masterwork creations that surely no four year old will ever be able to replicate.

Nobody can match adventure novelist Sax Rohmer for unabashed arrogance.  Here he is on the back cover of The Bride of Fu Manchu.  Any author can pose in his library, sitting on his desk, smoking his pipe with slicked back hair.  But it takes real chutzpah to do it in a silver lamè robe. 

Barth David Schwartz contemplates his three names, three prestigious universities and a rewarding career as a Pasolini scholar (thanks Tracy):

Say it ain't so!

Madeline Brandeis is gonna kick your ass for reading her series of children's books:

Literary giant Davis Tuck had no time to abandon his muse and take off the raincoat when he posed for his masterpiece, The NEW Complete ENGLISH SETTER:

Yes we are

The 1965 Yearbook of Agriculture, published by the United States Department of Agriculture.

Estate Sale Secrets

Many unscrupulous people use the words "estate sale" for their moving or garage sales.  An authentic estate sale involves walking through the home of a recently deceased person in which everything you see is for sale.  Families usually do them in an attempt to clear out to detritus of their loved ones after they have gone through and taken away every meaningful antique, heirloom and keepsake.  Usually an estate agent is hired to price the items and conduct the sale.  I imagine the families go through the closets to get rid of the embarrassing items before the estate agents get there.  You know - Mom's old Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie and the like.   

But when there is a sale with a large amount of books neither the family nor the estate agents have the time or patience to go through every title before opening to the public.  At these sales I am always sure to find at least one book that nobody was supposed to see - ever.

Here are a couple I found at past estate sales that I have up for sale on the internets.  And no, neither one were owned by a doctor or dentist.

Believe me, I'm doing you a huge favor by NOT providing you samples of what is inside these two books. I mean, who doesn't love full-color photos of genital sores and advanced mouth ulcers?

Today while going through hundreds of books about science, literature and geography from a recent estate sale, I found my all-time favorite:

The back cover of this mass market paperback states that they are proud to present the latest volume in this distinguished series of books by F. E. Campbell.  It also says the cover illustrations by Robert Bishop are a special treat for the connoisseur of fine bondage art.  Who knew?

It's amusing enough this was among the decedent's  books, but when I opened it up, I was in for more fun.  Its interior is decorated with dozens of little color bondage photos cut out from magazines and pasted throughout.  Here's the least offensive one I could find, on page 30:

But even better, the entire book is neatly interlineated in ballpoint pen with many grammar corrections and suggested changes:

I suppose we all have our fantasies, but I'm guessing being an editor of bondage literature is a rare one.

From Wikipedia:

Last Exit to Brooklyn is a 1964 novel by American author Hubert Selby, Jr. The novel has become a cult classic because of its harsh, uncompromising look at lower class Brooklyn in the 1950s and for its brusque, everyman style of prose.

Although critics and fellow writers praised the book on its release, Last Exit to Brooklyn caused much controversy due to its frank portrayals of taboo subjects, such as drug use, street violence, gang rape, homosexuality, transvestism and domestic violence. It was the subject of an important obscenity trial in the United Kingdomand was banned in Italy.

Here is an old copy I found which originated at the University of Texas El Paso.  The novel had a profound effect on Mike Jones.

Kids These Days

My cousin just started a blog. One of her first posts complained of her obstinate child and her difficulties parenting the little guy.

Sunday I scored a huge haul of over 2,000 books and related ephemera at a local estate sale. I've just started going through the stuff, but it's already given me some ideas to help out my cousin. I think part of the problem with her kids (and mine too) is that they have become soft from our unadventurous, protective parenting. We have for too long exposed them to activities from wimpy books like these, which recommend children's museums, frozen custard and a place called "Toy Joy":

I'm going to try a little Texas Hill Country trip with my kids this weekend. If it works out I'll share it with my cousin, who also lives in a desert area.

First, we will hit the road in the 100+ degree heat to go on a mining adventure:

Based on the tips from this 1949 government publication, I'll know how to find this precious stuff. If I can figure out a way to sell it, we're talking not only good parenting, but PROFIT!

We will not be bringing supplies or provisions of any type - not even water or shoes - and we'll leave with a full tank of gas and only the clothes on our backs. We will learn to adapt quickly with this 1969 government manual:

I can hardly wait to hear my children tell loving stories of family lore at future gatherings - making their own shoes from plywood, and the sweetest water they ever tasted after extracting it from cacti with their bare hands and makeshift tools.

If things go awry while we are mining, we'll be all right because I found a first aid manual for miners. Whether Dad suffers a bleeding crotch, or Lad gets burned from too much uranium radiation, we'll be ready.

So Good Buddies, look for me on the road this weekend if you're in Central Texas. I'll be on channel 38 and my handle is "Bogey."

That je ne se quoi

It seems that in US, the closer you are in proximity to your neighbors, the less likely you are to know them.  In every apartment I've ever lived in you went out of your way to never even make eye contact with the people that lived on the other side of your walls. 

I don't remember it always being that way.  In about 1970 my mom and dad moved us into the Deauville Apartments in the then-suburban outskirts of Omaha.  It was a faux French apartment community nestled into the cornfields. I still have fond memories of its swimming pool, putting green, the 4th of July and snowstorms there.  More importantly, I remember the people.  My parents seemed to know just about everyone in the complex, which was probably about 40 units. We have super 8 movie footage of our dad smoking Lucky Strikes while playing lawn darts with the men, while the women prepped the watermelon and jello salads.  I think my parents exchanged Christmas cards with old Deauville neighbors for many years.

I learned recently that this sense of community had nothing to do with the times; it had everything to do with pseudo-French community living.  Take a look at this recently discovered publication from Houston in 1972:

This was a magazine published by Houston's notorious real estate developer, Harold Farb. Here is the narcissistic back cover (note to self: get floor-to-ceiling drapes for powerful office look):

This edition of the magazine was printed for his premier property, Napoleon Square.  The architecture of this complex looks very similar to my Deauville in Omaha.  The apartment project still stands in the heart of the Gulfton Ghetto of Houston, now featuring the largest number of units and the highest crime rate per capita in the Houston area.  It wasn't so back in 1972.  It was a place for swingers to have a groovy good time in Bonaparte's Retreat.

The ladies of Napoleon Square enjoyed the latest fashions...

...and ultra-modern, ultra-white kitchens.

There was fun to be had at the swimming pool...

... where you could listen to the best bands Houston had to offer, including the "event-full" roots raggae sounds of The Gentrys.

Rode Hard and Put Up Wet

Lately I've been lucky enough to re-live and get re-vivified by some meaningful youthful experiences.  Today I experienced another one when I went out for a bicycle ride.

About 22 years ago - in what seemed like a different life - I was a licensed USCF bike racer.  I was poor, but in great shape and happy.  This was before the advent of spin cycles and other training devices, so on cold weather days we used to ride training devices called "rollers," which were designed and manufactured from the best of 19th century technology.  Riding rollers was so boring we wouldn't let rain stop us, and unless there was actual flooding, a thunderstorm would not deter us from the daily ride.

I have been riding a bike again lately, but forgot what it was like to ride in the rain.  I live in a dry, hilly area that has not experienced a shower in more than 60  days, so I didn't even look at the sky when I set off on my ride this morning.  About 8 miles out of town the storm clouds broke. At first I felt apprehension, but I was quickly overcome with excitement as I re-captured youthful memories.  I forgot the adrenaline rush when you speed down a hill at 33 mph with barely-functioning brakes; I forgot what it was like to have a friendly Texan pull over in his pickup truck and offer you a ride back to town and tell tell him thanks, but you're having a great time; I forgot what it was like to stop at a slow moving river and listen to the silence of the muffled winds, punctuated only by the sounds of raindrops on leaves; and I forgot what it was like to take off your jersey at the end of the ride to reveal the Jackson Pollack mud splatter on the back.

ओमाहा रोयल्टी सिरका 1960

Found Riches

Every book dealer has stories about finding cash in used books.  I thought I got lucky when I discovered this blank check from The Herring National Bank in Vernon, Texas in an old college textbook. 

I was going to write a check to myself for ONE MILLION DOLLARS until I turned the check over and discovered it had been ruined by some young man's dorm packing list:

Wuss.  When I went off to college I needed zero hankies and four jock straps.

It's never too early...

It's never too early to start your Christmas shopping.

Who will be the lucky recipient?

Party Games for Women

After reading a blog entry about some sort of "art party" for men and women, I became a little concerned.  Cake walks with men?  Women producing art?  Maybe this booklet produced by the Leister Game Company of Toledo, Ohio will present some wholesome party ideas for the readers of this blog who are of the fairer sex.

The best way for women to get the party started is to pin the names of  television stars onto guests' backs.  The party guests must tell each other factoids about the celebrity to help guess their party personas.  Here the young lady on the left confuses the "Doris Day" victim by telling her that she will one day become a conservative icon, while at the same time advocating public assistance and compassion for a disease destroying the gay community:

Here are 4 other great party games from the booklet that I recommend:

The first will help the women focus on their futures:

The second will help the ladies with their job duties.  Accomplished women should be able to tell the difference between the "whip" and "liquefy" blender functions by ear alone:

Here is one to help with female literary pursuits (for those guests that have stayed in college for more than a year while trying to meet their husbands):

Here is one to use if you have 22 guests: 

"An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun."   

    - James Whitcomb Riley

And when it's time for some levity, this one is a sure-fire crowd pleaser.  What the hell is funnier than flying panty hose?  Seriously?:

(I will make no comment about the forfeit penalty).

And when the giggling stops, it's time to bring your party full circle to its conclusion and focus on what is really important - identifying television personalties (WTF?! No Nipsey Russell?!)

Sex Education

 This book will help my readers who have children.  It was published in MCMLII and its theme is that it's never too early to to talk to your kids about sex. 

I'm not sure I understand the cover.  The children, who know nothing about sex, are not able to roller skate, but can only clomp away and stare at their crotches.  The adults, who know a lot about sex, can gaze lovingly into each other's eyes while roller skating in tandem.  There is nothing in the book about a correlation between skating prowess and knowledge of the nasty, but I guess it must be so.  It may explain why many of the women involved in the revival of roller derby make me feel like they know a lot about sex.  Also, I'm not quite sure children will develop normally if their dad wears skin-tight leopard skin shirts with chippendale bow ties in public.

The author, a professor from Oregon State University (Beavers), says that your young children should be asking a lot of questions about sex, and if they are not, you should take them to the zoo:

It will also help your children develop normally if you let them go bowling often with their friends (this is a bowling entry for you, Tracy).

During their teen years, it is appropriate for you to pull items out from your bedroom closet and demonstrate their use to your kids and their dates, so long as you explain the limits:

And even after your teens are sexually mature, it's still OK to question their dating relationship with Humbert Humbert:

Jackpot

Some days you go to the thrift store and hit the mother lode.  It's my little world now:

Lefty

Baseball is a game with a history of players overcoming adversity.  Diamond heroes include Jackie Robinson and Henry Aaron, who overcame racial barriers (many don't realize that Henry Aaron broke the color barrier in the Southern League when he played minor league ball).   Players with disabilities have also featured prominently in the national pastime, such as Jim Abbott, a one-armed pitcher that threw a no-hitter in the majors;  Curtis Pride, a deaf man who played for the Montreal Expos; and Dave Dravecky, who recovered from cancer in his pitching arm, only to have one of the most horrific comebacks in sports history.

Lost to history, however, is the inspiring story of Bill Burns, a journeyman pitcher who played professional baseball from 1908-1912.  Perhaps his story was tainted because he was involved in the Black Sox scandal of 1919, when he approached the first Chicago White Sox players on behalf of mobster, Arnold Rothstein (Burns later went on to become the key witness for the prosecution.  His trial testimony can be found here).

What is his inspiring story?  His official nickname was "Sleepy Bill," but his friends probably knew him as "Lefty."   Why?  As this 1910 T-206 tobacco card illustrates, Bill Burns was born with two left hands:

For Leslie

After reading Leslie's piece about due dates, I pulled this from my stock:

Published in 1924, it took 15 years for one brave girl at Galena Park High School to check out this gem.  Only one.

At least she learned how to mop (and dress):

And she knew how to recognize a "variety of home laundry equipment, from which good selection may be made."

Korfball?

If you grew up in the 1970's and collected sports trading cards, you were probably aware of Sportscaster cards.  They were the large cards that came by subscription only, with their own storage box.  Only the rich kids had them.

Now I feel rich because I found a massive stack of them in a ziplock bag at a thrift store for only $3.00.

Below are some of my favorites from the collection which brought me some nice flashbacks.

My real-life heroes: 

I think I found the retro look every hep-cat college kid is going for these days.  Meet the 1977 Hungarian water polo champions:

Classic shot of Wilt Chamberlain scoring against a hapless Walt Frazier while Senator Bradley looks on, hoping for a cloture vote.  Also, great pic of Dr. J in his Bicentennial glory days:

Teutonic beauties:  half-elf, Ingemar Stenmark and half-man, Kornelia Ender.  How did those East German women set so many records swimming in the Olympics?  I guess the secret was lost forever when the Berlin Wall came down and the DDR crumbled. (sorry this photo is a little blurry.  I was probably trembling at Frau Ender's beauty while holding the camera).

Assholes:

Inspiring female Olympic gold medalists in precarious positions.  They spawned millions of bad haircuts and horrid musical tributes:

A tribute to the old geezers of hockey.  If you're not doing anything after the game, Gump Worsley would like to talk to you about some whole life policies and variable annuities.

Inspiring Olympians with multiple gold medals:  Swimmer Freddy Mercury and Ali's communist evil twin, Teofilo Stevenson.  Could Stevenson have knocked out Ali, Frazier and Foreman if Fidel Castro ever let him out from behind the iron curtain?  We kids thought so.

Every child's sports inspirations in the 1970's  -  Earl "White Shoes" Anthony and Dr. Csaba Fenyvesi, who fenced only in his grandfather's bathrobe:

The inventor of the Fosbury Flop (which method garnered many a ribbon in elementary school field days), and the inventor of the inverted track and field crotch shot (this is for a specific reader who requested another porn-related blog entry):

Here kid.  Smell my feet:

Who knew that Ireland's national pastime was the form of hurling in which Catholics and Protestants whacked each other with sticks?  I always thought it was the form of hurling that took place in alleyways after 7 pints of Guinness.

WTF sports I still have never heard of - Korfball vs. Faustball.  I would sell my soul to the devil to own those cool leather watch bands  (side note: these cards reminded me of one of my favorite videos from The Onion.  Do yourself a favor and watch "Just Give Me the Damn Sepak Takraw Ball"):

And finally, the card every boy wanted - Avery Brundage.  He truly was "beyond sports." (the back of the card says Mr. Brundage passed away on May 8, 1975, so look for many tributes tomorrow).

Nonsensical Postcard

There was news this week that a postcard written by Anne Frank in 1937 was discovered at an antique store near Amsterdam.

Many years ago I  found this postcard on the ground, next to the dumpster at my Austin apartment complex.   It is addressed to a gentleman named No-Doc Vrotsos.

It reads: 

No Doc, I have a research job in Stockholm.  My address is Artillerigaten 63V, St. 114 45 Stockholm, Sweden.  I am at a balloon event in the Swiss Alps at the moment, have been involved with ballooning in Sweden, Switzerland, and Italy, but only flew in France.  I have also made tons of boomerangs.  Miss ya.  Matt

I don't know why I picked it up and saved it all these years.  Maybe it was written in code for use by a Swedish spy ring in Austin.  Maybe Matt and No-Doc were lovers and had to couch their forbidden love and amorous exchanges in terms of boomerangs and hot air balloons.   I'll probably never know, but I will have life-long mental images of TONS OF BOOMERANGS.

More porn from The Depression

I acquired a briefcase full of ephemera from the 1939 Golden Gate International Exposition, which was held on Treasure Island in San Fransisco. It was from the estate of a gentlemen who worked for the Expo so it had a lot of nifty items like backstage passes, original scripts and sheet music from the performances, etc.

I'm sure his prized piece was this, from the red-light district of the Expo: the official program from Sally Rand's Nude Ranch

From what I can gather, you purchased a ticket to go indoors to view the nude ranch in its natural setting.  While there you could view cowgirls doing the things they do on ranches, such as topless lassoing, nude one-on-one basketball, nude team tennis,

naked archery, and even branding the buttocks of your nude gal friends. 

Sorry, but I had to black out the boobs so I could comply with this blog's rules.  I already sold this on eBay, but you'll be glad to know that it was purchased by an erotica museum in Las Vegas, where you can go see it yourself.

Tumbling Erotica

I should probably start this post with one of those internet page warnings that has you verify you are over the age of 18 before entering.  I don't have the patience to make one, so I'll just let you view this post on the honor system.

Apparently the sport of tumbling was popular during The Depression.  Here are two recent finds published in 1931 and 1932.

If that cover illustration on the brown book doesn't get something stirring in your loins, you aren't human.   

Each sex act tumbling exercise is presented with detailed description and excellent graphics.

Some exercises look naughty:

Some look AND sound naughty:

Now that you're all hot and bothered, I'll let you enjoy some of the Bobs 'n Burqas cheesecake photos:

Punch

Punch magazine was a British humor and satire magazine published weekly between 1841 and 2002.  I recently purchased a stack at a garage sale dated 1970-1973.  I don't get much of the humor because it is based largely on politics and media I didn't experience. However, this ad featuring the ultimate swanky London bachelor pad from a 1972 edition caught my eye.  

Extra long shag carpeting?  Check.  

Color-coordinated phone with extension cord for chatting up birds while lounging on the extra long shag carpeting?  Check.

Androgynous David Bowie album?  Check.

Multiple ferns?  Check.

Chrome accented furniture?  Check.

Here is a cover from a different 1972 edition that caught my eye.  I don't even know what to say about this.  The art inside is even worse.

Awful Blogs Worth Your Time

I've added a new feature to this blog: links to other blogs I've discovered that are so bad, they are worth a look. Check over to the left. My first offering is from a real, live Grandpa Simpson living in Woodstock, Illinois.

Bookmark him so you can enjoy his rants about tinted windows run amok, too-big GPS systems, cross-walk signs, and un-patriotic neighbors who do not honor the flag.

I will not pick on kids that write blogs, but blogs written by adults in the voices of their children and/or pets are fair game.

A can already tell from my research that many of the selections will originate in Utah.

A Howitzer of My Own

I was listening to NPR the other day and they reported that the U.S. Supreme Court has taken a major Second Amendment case under consideration. Many people on both sides of the gun control issue await the first major ruling on the right to bear arms since the 1930s.  It is expected that the Court will recognize the right to bear arms as an individual right for the first time in US History.

It must be fate, but this case coincides with my finding this guide to firing a howitzer published by the U.S. Army in 1976:

I've always wanted to own my own howitzer.  Here is a picture of the FT 155 I found on the internet.  It is the self-propelled model, so it may be more expensive to maintain than a regular howitzer:

Since I live only live about 190 miles from the Mexican border, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to use the howitzer from my yard to protect our American border from marauding bands of Chiapas rebels, the Nicaraguan Sandanistas President Reagan warned us about, or even Hugo Chavez's crack troops.   I may be wrong though; the howitzer may not reach that far.  I'm having trouble deciphering the firing tables:

Asshole/Porn Stache

Here are a couple survey questions regarding my favorite media guys: Michael Medved, Geraldo Rivera and John Stossel.  

Who is a bigger asshole?
	Michael Medved
	Geraldo Rivera
	John Stossel
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Who has the best porn stache?
	Michael Medved
	Geraldo Rivera
	John Stossel
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Neiman-Marcus Christmas Catalog

Every year Dallas-based department store Neiman-Marcus publishes a Christmas catalog which pushes the boundaries of decadence and crass consumerism.  I stumbled across a couple of vintage copies recently, but before I get to my finds, I want to share one of my friend's stories I was reminded of when I saw the catalogs at a garage sale. 

My buddy attended SMU law school in the early 1990's.  He grew up in New Jersey and wasn't familiar with Dallas' shallow nouveau riche culture. Shortly after he started going to school there, he saw his first Neiman-Marcus Christmas catalog and was shocked to see you could buy a live miniature donkey for your spouse or child for a mere $3,000 - $7,000.  He tore out the page and kept it.  

After the holiday break, he began the process of on-campus interviews for summer clerkships with the big law firms.   This takes place every January and February at almost all of the law schools in the country.  Practically speaking, the entire process is a soul-crushing sham. The big firms each send two junior attorneys out to interview students in 20-minute time blocks. Everyone - including all the students and the law firms - knows that only the top 10% of the class will get job offers for the lucrative summer clerkships.  However, both the schools' job placement offices and legal community conspire in a charade which encourages all students to interview with several firms.  The students are practically forced to participate.  The law firms must interview any student who signs up for an open time slot.  Wearing a suit to school and sitting in a room while listening to self-important attorneys preen about their firm and asking personal questions - the whole time knowing you will never get the job - is pretty damn depressing. 

My friend is quick-witted, has a lot of chutzpah, and was not in the top 10% of his class.  His second interview was with Haynes & Boone.   My buddy became increasingly frustrated as one interviewing attorney blathered about the magnificence of Haynes & Boone.  During the 19th minute  they asked my friend his first interview question, "Why do you want to work at Haynes & Boone?"  My buddy reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it and said, "Because after working for only four weeks, I will be able to buy this miniature donkey." He then got up and left. 

I'd only heard about the Neiman-Marcus Christmas catalog from the annual CNN news features and my friend's story.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn from the Neiman-Marcus Christmas Book 1979 that you could buy your own compact satellite dish to watch up to 100 channels of television for only $36,500.  (click on images to enlarge).

That year you could also get his and hers Russain lynx belly furs to enhance your vampire fantasies (his - $100,000, hers - $105,000). 



But my favorite item illustrated the fun you could have at your Highland Park holiday party when you invited your guests to the patio, drinks in hand, to watch the peasants perform an actual chimney sweeping and musical review on your roof ($3,000).  Chim-Chim-Cheree!

Magna Carta

Although I've known for a long time the Magna Carta was one of the foundations of our democracy and legal system, I've never actually read it.    Written in 1215, the English charter guaranteed the rights to a jury, to habeas corpus, and included inspirational language that made its way into the U.S Constitution and The Bill of Rights.  It was written almost entirely in Latin (which may explain why I'd never read it).  

Recently I was given a 24 page paperback translation of the document.  It was an interesting read, but I was surprised by a couple of paragraphs (highlighted below) which show just how longstanding some of our troubling prejudices are. 

(click to enlarge image)