Labor Day

Women at the Westinghouse Time Clock, 1904 (Spoiler Alert: Woman at 1:23 drops her timecard!)


We'll be taking time off for Labor Day, so we won't be punching the time clock.
It is very enjoyable to watch the sidekick wade slowly out and sit down in the water. She looks kind of like a very old man at the seashore...The end effect? Why, a furry lily pad growing in the water, of course!

I'll be doing this:
 

Ad Nauseum...A Regular Houdini!

Victor's "Top Take-Away": In the 1950s, all 14-year-olds dressed informally in suits, smoked pipes that they received in Health Class in school, and had big-a$$ cameras larger than their heads. It is how they Learned to Become Men. (Houdini wriggled out of suit and escaped from ad.)

Ad Nauseum..."Savory-rich"

Hey! Walt here...hanging out near the dictionary as the young gals feverishly try to find words to do Lipton's Noodle Soup justice. In this ad, Lipton suggests "Tempting!" "Taste-teasing!" "Old-time-homemade-flavor!" "Heart-warming!"
"S" sums it up for me..."Salty Like An Old-Time Sailor!" "Salt and Battery!" "Saltastic!" "Sodium-Truck-Backed-Up-And-Dumped-Its-Load!" "Stroke-Inducing!"
(This ad makes me wary: These tiny people could fall right in the salton sea here...can they swim?)

Ad Nauseum..."Mildness"

Psst! Victor here.
1) Why do Jane Wyman and Allen McDowell (Tobacco Farmer) smoke Chesterfields? Mildness?
2) Sure. It might be mildness. Still, Scientists have found that 9 out of 10 movie stars and tobacco farmers will smoke Chesterfields if you pay them to! Tobacco farmers are, for some strange reason, particularly drawn to smoking cigarettes and advising others to do the same!
3) I am worried about the fate of the "Professional Smokers" shown in this ad featuring Perry Como.

Ad Nauseum..."9 out of 10"

Bud: This ad makes me wary with its hunkus punkus. "9 out of 10 buyers have bought Imperial before and they're buying it again!" Is that supposed to convince me that Imperial is good? Because it only makes me think that Whiskey John there with his "Sippin' Sack" forgot how much it sucked and bought it again by accident. Or, he had his glasses off and couldn't see what he was buying. Also: I want to talk to Imperial Buyer #10. I want to see what he has to say. If they haven't hushed him up.
Psst: Down here...Is that a tiny "Whiskey Elf" rolling that barrel?

Ad Nauseum..."The Striking Difference"

My name is Gustavo and I remain unconvinced. I have tried corn flakes. I have experimented with multiple brands of corn flakes. There is no striking difference in corn flakes. There are no "BETTER" corn flakes. No corn flakes are the best kind of corn flakes. This woman is up a tree for no reason. That is all.

Ad Nauseum..."Fresh Up"

Hey, man! Rex here. This awesome ad tells me all I need to know about the 1950s: Men went swimming fully clothed. Wearing hats. Then they mopped their brows like "Whee-ew, Mercy Maud. Why am I so hot?" I'm pretty sure the wife here is thinking about the bottle of wine she has hidden in her sewing basket.

Ad Nauseum..."Agreeableness"

Hey, there! I'm Victor and I'm having a rough day. Not only am I lodged in this canine's toothy piehole, but I'm very confused by this ad:
1) Is this ad supposed to communicate what the German Shepherd is thinking? Because most German Shepherds (including this one, take it from me) tend to walk around thinking: "Meat guard kill. Meat guard kill." Sometimes they shake it up and go, "Guard meat kill."
2) Very few German Shepherds that I know spend time contemplating whiskey bottles.
3) Is there really such a thing as "the whiskey of moderation"? Most whiskey drinkers that I know are not into moderation.
4) What's an "amiable blend"? When I think "amiable" I think of a loose-limbed farmer kicking back on a porch, spitting and offering to share his "chaw." How does "amiable" factor into this ad? (Note: The German Shepherd is not amiable.)
5) What is "all-around whiskey agreeableness?" Does the Calvert Reserve help little old ladies cross the street or something? And then the German Shepherd knocks 'em down?
6) Okay, later. I have to go get chewed for awhile.

Ad Nauseum..."Room for the Whole Darn Tribe"

Yeah, hi. Gustavo here. I remain unconvinced of many things:
1) I remain unconvinced that there is "Room for the whole darn tribe" in this DeSoto wagon.
1) I remain unconvinced of the wisdom of dressing your whole family in white for a road trip.
2) I remain unconvinced of the sanity of the dudes who wrote this ad..."Without reservation, a De Soto is your best station wagon buy..." Buddy, really?


Seahorse Ranching, Hummers, Tough Questions, Etc.

I am supposed to be working this weekend. I do not love working this weekend. This state of affairs prompts me to think up names of new careers that might be fun: Seahorse Rancher and Courtesy Cop are the frontrunners.

And, am I getting oodles of work accomplished? Well, no. I have been taking photographs.

DO YOU HAVE A DISGRACEFULLY GRUBBY MOTHER AND FATHER?
HUMMERS
READ AND OBEY (i recommend the pie)
"I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW. WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING ME?"

Improper High School Mascots Square Off: Rabid Potato Meets Chief Eyebrow

BUT FIRST...A FRIDAY GAME IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT
Today is an important day. It is the birthday of the person who once dared me to eat an earwig on a ritz cracker--my older sister. She cannot be blamed, it is part of what older sisters must do sometimes to keep the younger ones in check. Despite the unseemly earwig incident, she is the best sister in the world. So, as a tribute, here's a game we play: Put together combinations of words to make good, bad, or ugly names of 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s fake rock bands. Examples: Spectral Pudding (an art rock band); Crunchen (heavy metal--an umlaut goes over the u); Wombatz; Joseph Cotten & His Trusses; The Peter Jennings Experience; The Blintzes! If you don't feel like it now, try it out sometime when you're waiting for your Chinese food to be ready (and yes, go ahead and order the peking ravioli, they're good).

AND NOW...on to the Improper High School Mascots.



"AUUUUGH! Kill! Maim! Blood! Spleens! Squishy! Splurty!"


"Oh, man. The game isn't for another half hour. Take a break. Catch your breath. What the hell are you supposed to be, anyway? An angry baked potato?"


"AUUUUGGGH! AUUGGGGGH!"


"Ah, I got through to you, huh?"


"AUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHH!" Pause. Pause. Pause. "I look like an angry baked potato?"


"My friend, I am torn between craving extra sour cream and butter and wondering, 'Will that potato bite me before I can bite it?'"



"Our concession stand has superior hot dogs! auuuuuugh..."


"Whatever. Personally, I'd sue the dude that 'drew' me. But, yeah, sure. Hold onto that, okay?"

Cowboys vs. Indians: Indians Always Win...Volume Reading


Is This Squirrel Wearing A Collar?


One of my top work avoidance strategies is gazing moonily out the window.* Due to my low IQ, I don't need much action. I sense my distant clients pacing the floor and smoking as they await the arrival of their newborn documents. Yet, I goggle out at the backyard, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, fascinated by a few moving leaves, a bumblebee, etc. It is one of the may reasons I feel a kinship with Homer Simpson.

One day, a strikingly chubby squirrel wandered into the perimeter of my vacant stare. His bright yellow collar (?!) made him stand out from the rest of the demonic horde of pot-bellied, furry Viking squirrels who pillage, vandalize, and sack the 'hood.

I like theories. So, first I thought, "Maybe it's that little yellow plastic thingy that goes around a plastic milk jug. But, how is it stuck there?" Then, I thought, "I bet he is a pet squirrel of one of the roofing guys. That's it. He's a pet racing squirrel, and the roofer whistles to him when it's time to go home." There's a big leap between the two theories, but somehow the second one seemed plausible, probably because when I was a tot I read too many children's books about wild animals as pets.

None of my friends believed me. So, I lay in wait for the squirrel to get photographic evidence." As you might imagine, this also turned into a work avoidance strategy, and the little effer eluded me each and every time. He treated me like contemptible paparazzi, in fact. He streaked by the window too fast (confirming my theory that he was a pet racing squirrel), hid his collar, or I got a great photo of a squirrel with no collar.

Then, I got this picture. And I'm still asking myself: Is this squirrel wearing a collar? And what the hell is he doing conferring with the other squirrel on the back of the tree? A mystery for our times...Excuse me. There's something I must look at outside.

Cowboys vs. Indians: Indians Always Win..The Closer Look


Ms. Blandings is Downcast

I am searching for a compact, affordable house with some land. I am doomed. These are things that I have heard in my travels, and that I would not like to hear anymore, please.

1) "The economy is slow, but it will pick right back up when the uranium mining starts!"

2) "There is no well as such."

3) "You're okay with bugs, right? They are not small bugs. There are a few families of them."

4) "We had a professional-grade composting toilet, but we didn't like it so we put in our 'indoor outhouse.'"

5) "The septic system is in excellent working order, we're just not sure where it is."

6) "I mentioned the 4.5 foot wide underground pipeline that runs through the property and has that easement, right? Yeah, it worried me a little, too, but so far so good!"

7) "The dwelling is not exactly habitable, but might well be made so."

8) "When the wind shifts, some find the aroma to be strong. We like it."

9) "It's an old building, so just keep an eye on those cracks in the wall."

10) "The plumbing is more or less 'roughed in.'"

I find this honesty to be refreshing, and yet dispiriting. Don't mind me. I'll just sit here quietly soothing myself by gazing at Cary's mesmirizing cleftiness.

Coming Attractions: Odd squirrels, shocked dinosaurs, mascot smackdowns, and strawberry/rhubarb/currant pie.

My Second Job!

It was tough to see anything through my lightbulb costume. I kept tipping over, drawn by the gravitational pull of my giant, shiny head. The clock and the iron got really ticked off and steamed because I kept dominoing the percolator down into them--see their strained smiles? I couldn't help it, really! Okay, once, maybe twice, I did it because I was bored. In this photo, you see the percolator fiercely confronting me and holding her ground by poking her spout into my ribs. I don't blame her. It was a tough gig for all of us. Coffee break? HA! With just a big ol' bulbous head and no hands? Dream on.

Cowboys vs.Indians: Indians Always Win...The Badder-Ass Friend