This billboard was situated on Elizabeth Street in Sydney, Australia, advertising Kiwi Shoe Polish, with an image of an unidentified man who coincidentally, bore a strong resemblance to the current president of the United States. Evidently, FDR had not authorized use of his likeness. I can’t imagine that a billboard in the US of an Australia Prime Minister would help sales of shoe polish over here. In fact, I doubt any of us could name one Australian Prime Minister.
This all seems fishy. Let’s print it!
Networks don’t care about accuracy. They want ratings. Unity doesn’t get viewers. So why not flat-out tell lies, “change the narrative,” incite violence and unrest, and frighten folks with the scariest topics we can find. Corona! Lockdown! Second wave! Riots! Wildfires! Floods! Division! Your neighbor hates you and always has! The economy is sinking! What about your 401K? And all this followed by that incessant Boy Scout rape commercial that lasts about four minutes. Wouldn’t it be nice to watch a Good News network? Journalists, tell us something positive!
Let’s call the editor and give her a piece of what for.
What’s that? A march for hope and joy? People lining the streets with smiles on their faces? What’s that? We have more in common with each other than what separates us?
Sure, 2020 sucks. No doubt about it. And it does seem to be getting worse–and getting better and getting worse. But, hey, you and I are still alive to blog. Most of us probably even had the virus by now. But, wait! You’ll have everlasting side effects that destroy your health! Maybe, but life is a crapshoot. Any day we wake up is a gift. No guarantees.
At least we can still spin some vinyl.
We can still dance, if only with one partner, or even by ourselves.
We can still buy hats–or even masks that reflect our political, religious, or social ideologies–if that floats your boat.
We can nap and read periodicals.
We can still drive.
And most of us can still eat out.
And guess what? When the holiday season starts in one month, we can start wearing festive Christmas sweaters again.
Who can be sad with reindeer on their chests?
So just remember, it’s okay to relate to this.
But don’t forget this:
Miss Lesley E. Bogert strides with purpose through a parking lot of curvaceous vehicles, off to cavort among fellow Newport socialites of the 1930s. Her father, Beverley Bogert, was a prominent New York banker.
This article from the April 14, 1935 Daily News gives the deets on her relationship with Russia’s Prince George. Note how she is described as “apple-cheeked, plump and roly-poly,” which seems inconsistent with the image above.
By the way, “caracul” is an Asian sheep with a dark curled fleece when young. You know, like most of us wear.
It was June 24th, 1938, and a celebration was in order as pugilist Jack Dempsey, aka The Manassa Mauler, blew out candles for his 43rd birthday, accompanied by his third wife (of four) Hannah and daughter Joan. A year prior, Kyril Petrov Vassilev, a Bulgarian painter of royalty, had moved to the US and befriended Dempsey. He had started this painting only 10 days prior to this shot. As you can see, he worked quickly.
Drag off a cigarette, that is.
While modern voices find much merriment in decrying systemic racism, declaring the US a consistently racist environment, despite the fact that millions of immigrants have moved here over the last 200 years to pursue (and succeed) in one of the few countries affording them that freedom, no one could argue that America seemed to get it 100% right in this 1938 LIFE article, slamming the Anti-Semitic sentiment which mirrored the growing Nazi party. Very woke indeed.
Like many of us, Santa has spent the last six months confined to his ornate mansion with elves/servants to meet his many needs. As a member of a high risk population, he made the wise decision to not leave his estate. However, his eating habits suffered, and consequently, he “shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly” more than ever before. With autumn’s arrival today, sources say he is focusing on tightening his core, to meet his Christmas Eve duties of navigating a sleigh and climbing in and out of chimneys. Word on the street is he tried both Tae Bo and P90X and found them too taxing. He has now taken to old VHS cassettes of “Sweating to the Oldies.” As of this writing, his shape is somewhat uneven.
But don’t fret for Mr. Claus; he’s been in the game for hundreds of years now, and he still has that Santa Swag that woos the ladies. The cap hides any receding hairline, and his red suit means he’s always soft to the touch.
Nonetheless, Santa is making his health a priority with heart-healthy veggies and lean meats. Don’t be surprised if you spot him at the North Pole 24 Fitness.
Over three days in late July, a three-bedroom house in East Orange, N.J., was listed for sale for $285,000, had 97 showings, received 24 offers and went under contract for 21 percent over that price.
Last month’s New York Times article on the Big Apple’s mass exodus only told us what we’d been hearing for months; many Yankees want out. And who could blame them? The thought of quarantining without a back yard sounds confining, restrictive. Living in close quarters in small boxes, sans rolling hills with fresh air, offices still shut down after all this time, the germs of cabs and subways. Ick. And can you imagine how stir crazy kids must be? In addition, the divorce rate has skyrocketed. As some spouses shoved together for six months now are able to return to work, instead of enjoying the reprieve from one other, one fears for the safety of their families, now more than ever exposed to the virus by a spouse daily coming into contact with all that death and tragedy. Arguments ensue. Spouses separate. Mom packs up the kids and flees to the ‘burbs.
And in the midst of this often-applauded “freedom” to terrorize and slap and shove and spit upon others who don’t share your views all across big cities, it’s easy to give in to the allure of the suburbs, not only for the hope for folks to remain civil, but for a home that doesn’t share walls with thoughtlessly loud neighbors, not to mention lower taxes and lower crime and available parking and more quiet and even grass and trees. Less gunshots. NYC is strong and resilient, but it’s losing out to the housing market in Jersey, where moving vans cannot keep up with demand. Homes list one day, and sell the next at thousands over list price. And if in fact, many folks, continue to work remotely for years, why not do it in a 3-2-2? Or maybe make the move upstate?