Last night I had a dream that I was on The 25,000 Pyramid, and I’d gotten to the Winner’s Circle with Melissa Joan Hart as my celebrity, giving me clues. She kept yelling “ham sandwich, ham sandwich” and all I could think was “Things You Eat At A Picnic,” “Things Kids Pack For Lunch,” “Things Pigs Turn Into”…And then the buzzer went off and she shook her head despairingly and I discovered the category was, “Things Mama Cass Died Of.” Which didn’t seem fair, since you usually only die of one thing, and that one thing was choking on a ham sandwich–not things plural. But then I remembered that was just an urban myth, and Cass actually had a heart attack at the age of 32. And really, if she was going to die of any sandwich, it should have been in a Hardee’s, where the burgers are charco-broiled, as she sang in the 1973 jingle.
Category: 1970s
People On Grass And Probably “On Grass”
#post888
John Travolta And Violating Personal Space
You are not allowed to do this. You are not John Travolta, and chances are high that you will never caress neither Idina Menzel nor Scarlett Johansson, as he did last Sunday at the Oscars.
Despite the allegiance to Scientology, gay rumors, and alleged hairpiece, he is still John Tra-freaking-volta. These weird antics do not negate his Travolta-ness. Did you ever welcome back Mr. Kotter? Heck to the no. Were you ever in a plastic bubble? I think not. You are not leather-jacketed commitment-phobic Danny Zuko driving Greased Lightning. You were never white-suited disco-dancing emotionally immature Tony Manero. You never could turn that beat around.
So don’t even try getting in on some double Kanye action.
That is best left to Vinnie Barbarino himself.
I say let the Travolta hairline recede and swell like the rising tides. Let him proposition his masseuse. Let him pilot planes into Neverland. Let the crazy roll in and roll out.
Brother, you were J.T. before Timberlake stole your title. Steal it back like he brought sexy back! Talk your crazy L. Ron Hubbard talk with that eerie contented smile that Tom Cruise shares. Like nothing gets you down. Press your puffy senior digits into pretty girls’ faces half your age. I don’t care. You be you. But us regular folks cannot follow suit.
Now, readers, do not despair. This you can do.
Arms around your Allman brother buddies, celebrating and thumbs-upping. Go for it.
But charging through a stranger’s comfort zone to decorate him with blinking lights like Helen Keller on a Douglas Fir, no, sir. This is strictly Travolta territory. Do not try this at home.
Louie Anderson Follows Jenner’s Lead, Begins Transformation
Nope? Doesn’t look like Anderson to you?
Maybe this will help.
Just kidding, Louie. We still love you.
Holy Hairy Trifecta
That Time I Massaged Kris Kristofferson’s Feet
Double Drinking Dorothy Hamill
If you are too young to recall the famous wedge haircut made famous by 1976 Olympic figure skating champion Dorothy Hamill, consider yourself lucky. It was a trend amongst women of the late 1970s, and the immediate regret caused many to self-medicate with frosty longneck beers. Consider these two ladies, rocking the double H: the Hamill and highwaisted jeans. And just in case you can’t read their shirts, they say: Bored Martyrs. Indeed.
We Don’t Need No Education, Part I
A Load Of Malarky
There are times in your life when you become aware of what seems like it should be such common knowledge, that you are embarrassed it took you this long to know it. You question your upbringing, your education, your ability to retain facts. Such a thing happened to me today, when I learned that Amy Carter, daughter of President Jimmy Carter, had a cat named Misty Malarky Ying Yang.
Being several years younger than Miss Carter, it is forgivable that I did not know this. But how have 40 years passed wherein this has not worked its way into conversation? Why don’t people make reference to such a delightful moniker?
It’s true. While in the White House, Amy (who turns 47 today) had a we-are-Siamese-if-you-please kitty cat named Misty Malarky Ying Yang. Ying Yang was the last cat to occupy the White House until the Clintons’ Socks, because only a liberal would be willing to feed and house such an arrogant, ungrateful creature. Just kidding.
So happy birthday, Four Eyes! Yes, Ying Yang looks positively thrilled to be in your arms.
Are You Ready For Some Football?
Woot woot! So much zippered orange glory in this shot!
Trucker hat + aviator glasses + mustache = awesome
But awesome doesn’t last forever. Witness the power of the fumble to humble.
Now what do I do with this cowbell?
Winner Of Ugliest Font Contest
If I were a few decades older, had a poodle dog blue-tint permanent, cats-eye glasses, and support hose, I would jump up and yell, “Bingo!” because this font is hideous. By golly, this font is downright repellent, like a Gwyneth Paltrow quote or Kevin Smith himself.
Indeed, the letters themselves appear to be wearing bellbottoms, or be suffering from pedal edema. As close as I can find, it looks like the Karloff Negative font, but my research was minimal. It would make sense, however, as Borlis Karloff was known for his horror movie roles, and this is horrific. Gee, this font looks horrific.
The 1971 catalog itself however, is the bomb. The cat’s meow. The bee’s knees.
Who can resist the poor man’s James Garner, wearing his not-a-wedding-ring and sporting a polyester/rayon blend? Do you see that “brown stripe” sample? That is legit cloth. I’m touching it. It has the feel of a fine silk blend.
Yep, this catalog, preserved for four decades in a midwest basement, is in excellent condition, with a crisp mint green envelope inside.
All you had to do was affix a SIX CENT stamp, until May of that year, when they jumped up to an atrocious eight cents. You, too, could order tailored clothing.
Prior to the convenience of online shopping, all you had to do was pick your fabric, have your wife measure you, and send in your check. Easy-peasy, right?
To complete the look, black Roy Orbison-inspired prescription sunglasses are suggested. P.S. Roy Orbison was not blind.
Disinclined Melon-Poker
I Don't Get It 