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.