Category: 1940s

Hot Off The Press: Fake News

1962 Silver Spruce

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!

1948 Ventana

Let’s call the editor and give her a piece of what for.

1947 Yucca

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:

Santa Packs On Pounds During Quarantine: Must Prepare For Countdown To Christmas

1947 Blue Print

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.

https://www.askmen.com/

Georgia Tech Ads 1947

Gordon Foods–for all your nut meat and potato stick needs!

Atlanta was super progressive, offering international albums–even at night!

If you weren’t into modern Boogie Woogie, RCA Victor might be more your style.

Next up: refreshment!

The College Inn looks like the place to be, if you want to sit at the bar and sling back far-flung milkshakes.

And if too much brewski had gotten you soused beyond function, it might be time to call the White Cross.

 

 

First In Line For China Virus Vaccine

Living Lens, Forward Building in NYC

I just read that US smallpox vaccinations ended in 1972 when the disease was eradicated. Guess I was one of the last ones to have this scar on my shoulder?

But Who Invented The Cottongim?

In every yearbook of a certain vintage, several pages are devoted to beauty queens and runner-ups, “bluebells” to “sponsors” for men’s organizations. Today we feature not merely the campus beauties of Georgia Tech way back in 1947, but the ones with interesting names. Let’s start the ball rolling with Miss Elizabeth Cottongim!

Nope, it’s not the Eli Whitney cotton gin; it’s gim, which is neither alcohol nor an engine. And evidently the name is still going strong in Georgia, where Cottongim Services addresses all your heating and cooling needs.

Next up is a name I bet you’ve never heard, and probably can’t pronounce. It’s Miss Ygondine Walker! And as you can see by the cropped page, she was a SPON-sor. Extra credit for getting nominated by Mr. Pettyjohn, though I’d rather hear a Pettytom.

Next in line is typical for the era; when a woman married, she lost her own name entirely and became the Mrs. to her husband. So in this case, it’s Mrs. J.O. Paine. I feel your paine, honey. And check out that hair crown!

As we continue on down our list, we showcase Helen Quattlebaum. Evidently famous Quattlebaums existed, such as Cephas and Corey Bear.  I guess she also knew a fellow named John Kennedy? Is she even wearing a dress?

And last but not least, let’s sound the chorus for Doris Boris! She might have done well to marry soon after and shed that rhyming surname.

Well, that’s it for today, folks! Enjoy your quarantine! And the next time that you meet an Ygondine or answer yet another Eli Whitney trivia question, think of me and how I just don’t get it.

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.

And Now The Whole Sorority Is In Quarantine

1943 Cactus

The girl in the center is suspicious, trying to determine which one transmitted it to the rest.

Probably Margaret.

Coke Date Fashion

Back in 1947, folks weren’t meeting up at Starbucks for $6 coffees. They were meeting at diners for nickel Cokes. Never coined Sprite nor Big Red nor Fanta Dates, this ad hyphenates it as “Coke-Dates.” No gal worth her salt would show up to sip soda in a t-shirt and jeans. Perish the thought! So Joan Miller made this fantubulous dress of men and women, gussied up in hats and suits, drinking Cokes themselves. Add a ruffled collar, and voila! Coke-Date material. Literally.


But it wasn’t just ensembles that needed vetting for dates of Coke. No, siree, Bob. You needed bonafide Coke-worthy shoes as well. And what better to marry that fizz than with leather moccasins, in five gay colors? You could get the traction you needed on asbestos-infused linoleum flooring. After all, you don’t want to spill the very drink for which you came.

The boys were home, Hitler was dead, and all was well on the western front. Time for snazzy frocks and fizzy drinks. Time to celebrate!