Month: August 2020

Only Godless Heathens Don’t Wear Hats

Houston Metropolitan Research Center

1920 is most remembered as the year women got the vote, and perhaps these very women DID vote that year. However, this was a day of leisure, a pleasant afternoon of watching boats shuttle visitors to and from the San Jacinto battlegrounds in Houston. Most Texans know the battle happened in 1836, the year Texas won its independence from Mexico, in a fight that lasted 18 minutes and wound up with Santa Anna getting his boo-tay handed to him by Sam Houston.

And while this image seems so very long ago, and none of us was alive, let’s remember that John McCain’s mom was already EIGHT years old when this photo was taken, tackling third grade and cursive. Just throwing that out there for some perspective. And she’s STILL alive.

Hot British Mechanic Rocks Double Safety Pins

It’s 1911 in Antartica, and British engineer Bernard C. Day returns to base camp after driving one of the first motor sledges used in Polar exploration, during the South Polar Expedition aka the Terra Nova Expedition aka the British Antarctic Expedition led by Robert Falcon Scott (photo by Herbert G. Ponting from Then & Now). While Scott perished the following year, trying to be the first to reach the South Pole, Day lived till 1934.

What do you think? Hat or no hat?

https://returntoantarctica.com/

This Cat Is Fire

You know how magazines have those sections where they stuff all the cheapo ads together, and you wonder if anyone ever grabs a magnifying glass to read their teensy font? Well, today we’re checking out those ads.

These all come from April of ’54, and you can see that hippity hoppity, Easter was on its way. Seriously, that’s a weird car, right?

Anacin has been around longer than anyone reading this page, and you can still get it. She sure looks glad that she did.

Some ads are so tiny, you wonder what was the point. And was it really necessary to spell kiwi phonetically?

Vernell sounds like that great-aunt who lost her husband 30 years ago and wouldn’t think of remarrying, but she’s a really good cook and could definitely score a spouse if she would just move on with her life.

This next one is so fun with our friendly Nirc making his debut on this blog. Not to be confused with Narc, this little guy is concerned with the cleanliness of your rugs. They needed a mascot for that?

And speaking of weird acronyms, this next ad is for NCB, accepted from pole to pole. So odd!

We’ll wrap up with something none of us ever thinks about, fine driving lights. I knew cars were usually feminized, but I didn’t know headlights were as well. Now that I type that, it makes sense. Do you ask your husband to run to Auto Zone and grab a couple Lorraines?

Does Lorraine make you think of quiche or Newman?

Mourning Doves Are Loud As All Get-Out

This morning, before church and before coffee, I caught not one, but FOUR doves in our cottonwood tree.

I wonder what this guy did to deserve such isolation. Perhaps he was in quarantine for the ‘rona, or bird flu.

The others gossiped about his lack of hygiene.

Then this little guy showed up (upper right hand corner), and though his breast looks yellow here, he looked lime green to the naked eye. Not sure what kind of bird he is, but he belted out a chirpy song, unlike the coo of the doves.

And just like that, they flew away.

Yes, There Really Was A Douglass Crockwell

April 1954

Isn’t it eerie how similar Mr. Crockwell’s paintings look to Mr. Norman Rockwell’s? It’s even the same subject matter. I mean, the style is nearly identical. Check out another Crockwell. From beer to Coke, two of my favorite things!

American Gallery

Honestly, it sounds like an SNL skit, like changing Mr. Rogers to Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood. Stranger than fiction. Crockwell also did this fun outdoor scene.

Discoverbrew

In any event, I can appreciate both artists. I wish our summer looked more like this one!

Worship At The Altar Of Laconian Debs

Must … wear … Laconian Debs.

Y’all, it is rare indeed when a Google search turns up with zilch, nada. But such is the case for Laconian Debs. I guess they only existed for this one moment in my 1947 Seventeen magazine, which evidently could hardly contain their foot fetish. Apparently, those weren’t the only Debs around. Polly Debs were climbing up the charts.

I just don’t get this. These are NOT super flat. They have at least a one inch heel. And what a metaphor! Is a Coke comfy? That’s an odd word choice. You’ll love them like Mink? What? Are we talking about fur now? I’m so confused. But it’s good to know they’re live. All shoes should be live. Shouldn’t they?

Let’s move on to Kickerinos. That’s just fun to say, like Vinnie Barbarino. Anything -ino. It must be eye-talian!

Next up are the musical Monomacs, in either elk or Bucko Calf. Bucko Calf? There’s another thing Google’s never heard of. What a banner day!

I don’t know what music has to do with moccasins, or why tiny elves are handstitching the seams, but there you go. Now on to something south of the border!

Finally, something I’ve heard of. Huarache sandals, too …. A bushy, bushy blond hairdo … Surfin’ USA. ♫♪♫ Calf skin? I’m familiar with it. I get it. Wait, they come with foot shortening vamp? What the heck is that?

Who knew shoes could be so complicated?

Before a cutter was a person who took a knife to their skin just to “feel something” in a world of apathy, Cutters were shoes worn to catch men’s eyes. Maybe he’s not a breast or a thigh man; maybe he’s more interested in your arches. Super. And these would have been the choice for any butterface gal back in ’47 (that’s a woman who looks lovely everywhere “but her” face).

Let’s enjoy the symmetry of this next ad.

Three shoes, six gals, three shoes. Finally, some order. Everyone needs a few smooth, young Connies. Wouldn’t you agree? But smooth, young Connies grow up to become Old Town Trollers. It’s inevitable.

Two more years and I’ll be one myself. But at least I’ll be queen of them all! Still, nobody likes a troller. I’d take these adjectives any day.

Soft and supple. By the way, I’ve heard about Teena’s “brilliant night play.” Now, THAT’S something Google understands.

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