Why so gross, National Geographic? Did you have to frame your pic this way? That fish looks dry and crusty. I wouldn’t even use the herbs, for fear of nasty contact contamination. Perhaps a brighter, fresher image would do, like this one of Anthony Bourdain among seafood fare that looks much more appetizing. RIP.
Such a fun opening riff, a soft and easy California feeling. Chewin’ on a piece of grass, walking’ down the road…
Then Jorge stops his strumming to assert that there is no actual Ventura Highway, only Ventura County. But Otilia (the older, haggard woman in the back whose hair is struggling to flee her scalp while she strums the hammock strings) says, “No seas tonto, Jorge” and explains that the actual song was about a young boy standing on the side of the road while his dad changed a flat tire. Get with the program, Jorge. Common knowledge.
Maybe it wasn’t actually Nancy Culp from The Beverly Hillbillies. Did she even play classical guitar? She clearly hated doublenecked guitars.
And while she gained notoriety playing a spinster, she was actually married for 10 years. Per wikipedia, one reviewer said she had the “face of a shriveled balloon, the figure of a string of spaghetti, and the voice of a bullfrog in mating season.” Perhaps that’s a bit harsh. Ribbit.
While it may sound like the name of a royal princess of Wales, Charlotte Amalie is actually the largest city of the United States Virgin Islands, located in St. Thomas. Below, you can see the celebration in Charlotte Amalie on the 50th anniversary of Transfer Day, which marked the transfer of the islands from Denmark to the United States in 1917. Last year, of course, they celebrated a full 100 years.
While an enthusiastic sailor on shore leave from the cruiser USS Newport News (and he might be smoking Newports, to boot) hurls a ball at the weighted bottles at Carnival Village, the broad donning the Faye Dunaway floppy hat seems none too thrilled to either score his hits nor score his number. She has spent all day blowing up balloons, and her cheeks are as stretched as Dizzy Gillespie’s.
Note the look of awe on the boy in the far back.
Even more cliche than those drugstore Father’s Day cards referencing golf and ale consumption and handyman tools, are the ones that show Dad taking a paint roller to his bird’s egg blue brick house and painting it Pepto-Bismol pink.
Okay, so he’s actually painting a pink house blue. That makes more sense. Perhaps Mom just painted it pink a month ago for Mother’s Day, and now it’s HIS day and his color. He gets eleven months of blue, but she only gets four weeks of pink. That’s not fair.
But, really, what’s wrong with the pink? Pink houses were so coveted in the 80s, in fact, that John Cougar Mellencamp even wrote a song about it.
Here he is in the video, excitedly pumping up the cheerleader and sweat-domed, sleeveless buddy whom he had recruited to paint the basic white clapboard house behind him. All hail pink houses! And really, ain’t that America, for you and me?
The ad continues with way more paragraphs than necessary, as was the way back in the day, when people weren’t reading posts on phones and had plenty of time to sit and read a short-story-length ad on paint.
And what mid-century dad didn’t appreciate a can of SPRED Glide-On, not to be confused with Astroglide? Glidden also made a latex wall paint called SPRED Satin, for even fancier fathers.
So maybe Dad didn’t want a pink house for good reason. What do you think? A palace fit for a king? Not even for a vacation house? Sometimes less is more.
It’s not often that I get to say “I’m too young to remember this,” but since I wasn’t alive in the 60s–hey, I’m too young. I was flipping through my 1967 LIFE and saw this image of Bert Lahr.
It didn’t make me want to eat Lay’s. It didn’t make me want to wear a blackjack dealer visor. Instead, it raised red flags.
- That’s unhygienic to stack chips on a table (and nearly impossible).
- We all know each chip bag contains precisely 14 chips, not dozens.
- Bert looks uncomfortable, like he’s wincing through back pain. In fact, he DID die later that year, in December.
If you’re over 55, you may recall this ad. It’s chock full of everything that makes people cringe these days, and I don’t mean the minimalist background. Racism and poor acting and stealing, oh my!
I’ll choose to remember him as the Cowardly Lion, and not as the Lay’s pitchman. RIP.
This ad from my May 19, 1967 LIFE blows my mind. (scroll down for larger type)
It literally says, “Make sure you get sugar every day. People need what sugar’s got.” People don’t need more sugar. I’ve got plenty of sugar in me. I’ll tell you what I need: Lisa’s life. Lisa’s got it made. Trust fund much? I don’t see anything here about clocking in and working for the man.
Now THERE’S a metaphor!
Today, I have three new Antique Mall photographs of indeterminate origin–no dates, no locations, no nada. But how could I pass up this guy with his Gomer Pyle eagerness? And, oh, how he is bookended! Evidently, they offered secret trial silicone lip injections in the 60s…
In the upper left reflection, you’d swear he was the living LBJ himself!
I can’t hazard a guess as to what this second image is, although I doubt it was a Communist Party or Black Panther meeting. Nicely crossed hands and legs on the taller one.
And this last one, I bought just for the lass on the left. Such chutzpah to don white glasses! What a Kanye move! Don’t you suppose the two in the middle are related, whatwith their hopeful eyebrows?