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.
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.
Most of us don’t immediately associate beaches with the city of Cleveland. In fact, I am so full of ignorance about the city, that other than it existing inside of Ohio, I only know that Drew Carey was born there. I also know he was a Marine, and that his middle name is Allison, so that shows how much MORE I know about Drew than his birthplace. So if you’re like me, you will be gobsmacked to learn that they put some sand along the edge of Lake Erie and called it a beach. No sharks? No salt water to sting your eyes? Sounds nifty!
I hear they have freshwater jellyfish, however, but not big enough to give you a painful sting that lasts for two weeks with shooting bolts of pain down your leg, like the fun Gulf of Mexico offers. Cleveland’s Edgewater Beach website says one can enjoy 2400 feet of beach and 1000 feet of swimming access. Let’s go! Any readers done some swimming this summer, either alone or completely disobeying all the laws and engaging with friends and family? I surely have not.
Oh, things were so formal in days of yore! Kempt hair, belts, ties! Nothing like today, where anything goes. You think Millennials have ever worried over which fork to use? You think Generation Z was ever nagged, “No elbows at the table”? Doubtful. At church yesterday, the boy in front of me was wearing flip-flops, and at least two grown men were wearing ballcaps. That would have never flown in my day, but today we are “accepting” and “inclusive” and it’s perfectly fine to show up, dressed like you’re headed down to the “crick” to go frog-gigging or you’re next up to work the pole . Atrocious, especially if you have perfectly good Sperrys (ies) in your closet.
Anyhoo. This here is Puerto Rico in 1939, the year that I associate with both The Wizard of Oz and Gone With The Wind. The lottery had been allowed for 35 years when in 1934, Puerto Rican legislator Maria Luisa Arcelay (evidently some women did yield political power in the 30s) suggested allowing lotteries to be legalized. By December, she had made it happen. In this image, a lottery drawing is taking place before “three prominent citizens” who act as honorary witnesses (no funny stuff!), but regular proles are allowed to attend as well. The smaller cage on the left houses the “number balls,” and the larger contains “prize amount balls.” Sounds like gambling to me, but I’m not one to turn down a flashy Stampede slot machine.
One third of the receipts were distributed to combat tuberculosis in old PR (which had a whopping 5X higher death rate than in the US proper), to relieve the destitute (of which 82% claimed to be in need of financial aid, and BTW, are the destitute ever really relieved, or do they just hang on as dependents to a government who fancies itself their Savior?), and equip hospitals (possibly with PPE). Choir boys then sang the winning number and the respective prize to the crowd gathered outside. Because that’s normal.
Need to spice up your crappy 2020? Get a coatimundi, aka the hog-nosed coon. Just stick a collar on him, secure a leash, take him to a dog park, and see what happens. It couldn’t be any worse than what’s already happened this year. Imagine the possibilities: you could contract coronavirus or pass it on to someone else standing near you. If they’re not wearing a mask, that’s on them. Don’t let anyone tell you he’s not welcome in their dog park. Who cares if he’s a safety risk? It’s not fair to keep him out. Parks should be more inclusive.
Maybe a dog there is a carrier! Maybe a Great Dane will try to mate him, and he will defend himself and tear that Dane to pieces. Uh-oh! Liability issues. Now the media is involved. Perhaps someone will be offended by the sight or smell of your coati and call the cops. Wait? The cops were defunded? Who’s answering 911 now? Who can they dispatch to?
He sure is cute, though. If you purchase one as a pet, just know that Purina won’t work for this guy. Make sure to provide fish and ants, as well as eggs and sugar. Coatis looove sugar. He was not made to eat a vegan diet, so don’t push your agenda on him. And don’t get angry if he comes at you like a spider monkey; it’s in his nature. He can’t transition into a chill sloth or a domestic cat. He’s stuck in the skin he was born in. Don’t try and forcefeed him Zoloft or Latuda or push meditation practices on him to quell his biting tendencies. Believe me, when he sinks his teeth into your skin, he is fully present. Fair warning: he may give in to his bandit ways, and like a coon, pillage your neighbor’s trashcan. Just make sure he doesn’t get caught or he may wind up shot and stuffed. Trespassing is against the law, after all.
If so, make lemonade from lemons, maybe a nice purse or gloves from his fur. But don’t tell PETA!! In fact, don’t tell anyone anything, because they may get offended.
I Don't Get It 