Dog Overwhelmed By Stench Of Krishna Crazy; Refuses To Chew Shoe
Category: 1970s
Time In A Bottle (Please Pour It Out)
I realize one day I will have to defend the 1980s to my son. He will ask the big questions, and I will do my best to make sense of that decade. Everything in excess, big and sprayed and sparkly. But NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING can defend the 1970s. What were you thinking? The entire country did not collectively drop acid in 1973, but you could have fooled me. Witness this scene from Indiana University.
I realize the times, they were a-changing. The times are always a-changing. I understand that having your friends and family drop dead right and left in a war we didn’t win was no picnic. In fact, I read just today about a six-foot college man who weighed 145 lbs at the time he was drafted and forced himself to drop down to 123 (officially underweight) to fail his physical and consequently avoid service in Vietnam. Now that’s drastic. The fact that 145 was not underweight for a six-footer is equally absurd.
When the clock chimed New Year’s Day in 1973, our boys were still overseas. The stats are staggering: over 8 million GIs were on active duty during the Vietnam War from August 1964 to March 1973. EIGHT MILLION.
Other things that happened in 1973:
- Pong was the big arcade game.
- The MRI was invented. Have you had one? I have. It’s like being trapped in a tube with a pounding hammer in your brain while time stands still. And then they bill you $7K and tell you the diagnosis isn’t certain. Awesome!
- President Nixon asserted that he was not a crook.
- Singer Jim Croce died in an airplane crash.
- Bruce Lee suffered “death by misadventure” when his brain increased 13% in size.
- The Best Actor Award went to Marlon Brando for The Godfather, but because he was rendered immobile from overcarbing and was overcome with white guilt about the treatment of Native Americans, he thought it would be a most excellent time to send the Mazola lady in his place (you call it corn; we call it maize). Oh, it wasn’t the Mazola lady? Sorry, it was in fact Marie Cruz (Sacheen Littlefeather was not real name) to graciously refuse Brandon’s award for him, because the Oscars was a super forum to do that. Fortunately, his gesture healed all race relations, so it proved to be a great idea. And lest you think I’m harsh on Littlefeather, I refer you to her integrity-filled Playboy spread.
- Speaking of air bags, they were first used in the Oldsmobile Toronado that year. I’ve never heard of it, either, but I am saying it with a proper Spanish accent. Toronado.
Anyway, this was what 1973 looked like in Bloomington, Indiana and perhaps most of the country. It’s enough to make a girl staple her knees together and live the celibate life.
I believe it was Grace Slick who said, “And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you’re bound to fall, well, tell ’em a hookah, a smoking caterpillar has given you the call.” What on earth?
You think that’s odd? These college kids listened to a sermon from a blind Viking named Moondog. I did not make that up.
These were college-educated lucid students who KNEW it was portrait day and yet CHOSE to show up looking like this.
Yummy! A Hollywood Squares of hot bachelors! You KNOW I choose Bachelor #2. I’ve never dated a scarecrow hybrid.
Inflation caused gas prices to skyrocket from 36 cents in 1972 to 40 cents in 1973. I know that’s like COINS, but it was a big deal at the time. They had to resort to alternatives.
Again I stand by my celibacy comment.
These folks may have missed a ticket all aboard the Love Train, but fortunately they found themselves (wasted) in the back of this Chevy truck. I guess The Levee wasn’t dry that day. If only that truck were a DeLorean, they could time-travel to the 1980s, put a clean Izod on, get a shave, a haircut and a hot shower! Far out, man.
You’d Be A Smiley Face, Too
Yay, I scored a new yearbook today! You Indiana people (who know who you are) should feel excited! You might want to defend your public university here and explain why these ladies would have posed for a portrait in their towels. Why would they agree to that? Plus, towels then were so small. Think about those awful scratchy towels in your grandparents’ linen closet. Yuck. We don’t even use towels in our house, only “bath sheets” as tall as we are, plush and soft against our skin. Come to think of it, my dorm never took a group shot at all. Not in clothes or out of them. So much about the 1970s that doesn’t make sense…
Hurdles, Not Girdles
Ever since I saw Danny Zuko in sweatpants, I knew track guys were hot. He didn’t need his T-Birds leather jacket to be cool.
Can’t you sense the confidence exuding off these fit and flexible track and field guys?
Before the Information Age, young folks enjoyed testing the limits of their bodies, pushing their muscles, striving for fitness goals, and enjoying the sun and wind on their skin. Even if they were sore afterward.
Nowadays, not so much. There are screens to be stared at, video games to be played, and processed, enriched grub void of nutrients to be consumed. Plus, sometimes outside is uncomfortable. Forget that. Inside is always 72 degrees.
Come on, morbidly obese kids, you can do it! Get up off of that couch. If this 74-year-old New Zealand man can do it, so can you! He did this AFTER he kicked cancer’s butt. So kick your own fat butt and get moving.
Otherwise, you’ll have a lifetime of physical and emotional hurdles ahead of you. I know you lack the energy to seize the day, but for the love of all that is holy, put the Hot Cheetos and Takis down. Toss them in the trash! Say hello to fitness and good-bye to Husky jeans!
A Black And White Woody
I doubt any young man would want to be saddled with the nickname of Woody in this day and age. But in days of yore, it was not uncommon. Most of you remember Woody Woodpecker.
Or this naive, young bartender, Huckleberry Woodrow Tiberius “Woody” Boyd, from Cheers, played by a man named Woody in real life.
Other famous Woodies include folk singer Woody “This Land Is My Land” Guthrie, and Woody Allen, the director/screenwriter who destroyed any of his cred by marrying his stepdaughter (yes, she was, for all practical purposes) Soon-Yi, who is 37 years his junior. Gross, Woody. You disgust me. And I never liked Annie Hall. But I do like this picture. Or half of it, at least.
I wonder if folks called former president, Woodrow Wilson, by his full name? Can you name one fact about this president?
He was actually one of the four presidents who have been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He received his in 1919 for founding the League of Nations, the predecessor to the United Nations. You probably know Obama somehow nabbed one as well, but so did Theodore Roosevelt and Jimmy Carter. But I want to leave you with a more upbeat woody–this one from Toy Story.
“What chance does a toy like me have against a Buzz Lightyear action figure?”
Deadringers
Corpus Christi High School’s class of 1950 has some real gems to share with you today.
That HAS to be Andy Samberg’s granddad. No two ways around it.
This greaser reminded me of the bad guy in Grease, Crater Face.
And this cutie patootie reminded me of Maxwell Caulfield’s character in Grease II. Do you see it, too?
In most cultures, symmetry is beauty. But these two gentleman prove that your hair can be an asymmetrical entity, and you can still be smooth. It’s like chunks are missing from their heads.
Have you ever seen an old man’s toupee caught in the wind? This is like that except it’s swirly like tidal waves. But also like frosting on a cupcake. I could get lost in it. Look at him, all cocky. How YOU doin’?
I just feel like you need to see this. Tweezing is in order.
Ahem.
What happens when Walt Disney mates with Salvador Dali?
This guy. I like him already.
And check this out! The Kewpie doll is all grown up.
Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With String
Aging is no picnic, unless your picnic has ants, and it’s raining. Then it is indeed a picnic. My birthday is coming up this month, and while I usually have no desire for presents or acknowledgements of the slow decline into degeneration, this year I have seen some things to add to my wishlist.
First, I want this sweater. I knew of poodle skirts, but not poodle sweaters! Of course, it would look a lot better if I were flatchested, but who cares if its little paws tuck underneath my bosom?
Second, I want this shirt.
Well, now that I think about it, it would look too busy on me. I guess what I really want is to SEE someone wearing that shirt in person, so my jaw can drop in awesome wonder as I marvel at it.
Also, I want a good great blow-out. No, it’s not the female counterpart to what fellas want. It requires a blowdryer. Yeah, I’ve had decent ones, but not Tony-the-Tiger GUH-REAT ones. Well, I did that one time in Texarkana nearly 20 years ago (I still remember the car honks I got while pumping gas afterward. I can hear Bruce Springsteen singing “Glory Days” as I type…) Anyway, I want to look beautiful, kind of like this:
I want everyone I encounter on that day to tell me not only does my blow-out look gorgeous, but that I could pass for being in my 30s as in days of yore. Also, they will complain that they had to go hunting for their college thesaurus last night in order to find enough kind words to say about me. I will be both fetching and prepossessing all day long.
I will also receive various dark chocolate assortments, with nougats and cremes and nuts, but they will have no calories and no chemicals. And no birthday cards! Cards are a waste of $3. Just give me a $1 dollar bill and write “happy birthday” in the corner. Good enough. And nothing with glitter! Glitter is for hookers and showgirls and burlesque dancers and people who still wear tube tops. Ick.
Then we will all gather ’round and make a toast to another year of not being dead. Bartender, 7-Up all around! You know what Granny says:
But most of all, I want to never forget how blessed I am–with family, friends, a house with room to breathe, and all my WordPress blogger buddies!
Cheers!
Operator, Could You Help Me Place This Call?
I used to watch Good Times when I was young, and JJ would always answer the phone, “Cello?” (like the instrument). It reeked of cool, even for a gangly ghetto brother.
Before facetiming and apps and smartphones that could shut your garage door for you, phones were a means of communication by using one’s voice. Certain phone images from pop culture take us back to moments in our lives.
How could we forget the iconic scene in It’s A Wonderful Life? I can feel the sexual tension from here.
This one still gives me the creeps. “We’ve traced the call, and it’s coming from inside the house.”
Dum dum dum!!
Surely you remember this scene in 1985’s Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure when Pee Wee tells the bikers, “Shhh! I’m trying to use the phone!”
Even E.T. tried to get in on the action. But he never did phone home.
But the celeb with by far the most phone pics is the one and only Norma Jean Baker. She favored cross-your-heart phones, endorsed by her pal Jane Russell.
Apparently, she tagteamed quite often.
Although at home, she needed the casual ease of one hand free to express herself.
Keeping private conversations confidential…
In her earlier years, she posed with phones for cheesecake shots. I bet there wasn’t even anyone on the line…
Then she got the call from JFK: it was over.
And she took it well.
I Told You I Just Wanted A Trim!
Sophie is actually just leading a mime workshop. I know, right? Mime. I guess when you’re deep into the craft of mime, you don’t have time for styling long locks. A mime’s best friend is a wash ‘n’ go hairstyle–after a black leotard and white face paint, of course. Let me just say that I’m not too keen on whiteface, any more than I am about blackface, or a combination thereof.
By the way, did you know that mime did not die out with Marcel Marceau? They have mime schools (yes, plural) in Paris, France. Another reason for me not to go to France.
Oh, yeah, that’s not creepy at all.
Holy crap, he makes freaky clowns look like Care Bears.
I’d rather wake up to a man in Gene Simmons’ Kiss make-up than any of this crazy smeared mess. Do you know how traumatizing it is to an elementary age child to have to watch Shields and Yarnell (RIP Yarnell) dressed as Sonny and Cher on TV, doing what would later be called “the robot” by breakdancers?
They even disgraced the cover of my beloved Dynamite.
I wonder if they made out like that when they got home? All stiff like the tin man, with a laugh track playing in the background to help their self-esteem. You’ll have to youtube them yourself; I’m not poisoning my blog with any more memories of mimery.
We Have Lift Off
It is an uncontested fact that the men of Cobra Kai, while not victorious against Danielson, did in fact possess enough feathered hair to construct another Feather Bed for John Denver’s grandma, which we all recall was “nine feet high and six feet wide, soft as a downy chick, and made from the feathers of forty ‘leven geese…” Or in this case, three Cobra Kai.
It is also a universal truth that Farrah Fawcett wore the crown of queen bee for female feathered hair. However, I have just discovered evidence of a firm runner-up to the title.
This unnamed vixen was a member of Akers’ Angels at the University of Texas, whose job it was to show prospective Longhorn football players around campus. No, that doesn’t sound like an escort at all. She evidently took the title of Angel seriously, by copying the hairstyle of one of Charlie’s Angels. But while Farrah’s locks twirled and swirled like a spiral staircase, this lady’s feathers formed an impenetrable brick wall, eight inches high, so that neither fiery darts nor a linebacker who looks as confused as Moose in Archie Comics could get through it.
Yes, her hair is powerful. But here’s a word of advice: stay out of the humidity before it goes all Kristy McNichol on you. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Kiss These Angels Good Morning
These gorgeous gals can hardly contain themselves, anticipating the opening number at the Charley Pride concert. They are duded up and ready to get their country music on. What is that, you say? Who is Charley Pride? I can’t hear you over the squeaking of her leather jacket as she shifts uncomfortably against the wallet in her back pocket. Charley Pride is a country music singer who had hits in the 70s and 80s, scoring his 29th No. 1 in 1983 with “Night Games.” Back then, he was a pretty big deal.
Apparently, Charley Pride has been forgotten. I did not know it until I saw this picture. I assumed he was very much remembered, since everyone and their dog wants to call Darius “Don’t Call Me Hootie” Rucker the modern-day Mr. Pride. True, they have the honor of being the only two African-American artists to have solo No. 1 hits in the Country Music genre, but Charley is a traditionalist, and Darius is a crossover artist, writing his own songs as well as scoring hits with covers like “Wagon Wheel,” originally co-written by Bob Dylan.
If you know anything about me by now (aside from the fact that I don’t get it), you know Mama likes her ties, even this silk handkerchief thingy that isn’t really a tie. A man who wears this can never truly be forgotten. Especially since he’s still alive.
Now I’ll tell you who’s really been forgotten. Eddie Rabbitt. God rest his soul, he has been forgotten. Case in point: I waltzed into the local Best Buy nigh on seven years ago, back when people still purchased CDs, looking for a “best of” collection. I grabbed one of the associates, bordering on the edge of adolescence. He had never heard of Mr. Rabbitt, but he went to his trusty keyboard at the end of the aisle, punched in the name, and came up with…nothing. What? Who erased Eddie Rabbitt from existence? Who does Worst Buy think they are? I put a hex on them that day to perish in the manner of Blockbuster Video, and mark my word, they will. As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like an empress above the Serengeti.
I said, “Boy! Go fetch me your most elder statesman, for I wish to speak with him.” Eventually, a schlubbier version of gawky teen made his way over to me, and he could not have yet been thirty. I told him I wanted to hear “I Love A Rainy Night.” This ditty he could not recall.
“What about ‘Driving My Life Away?’ You remember that one about the windshield wipers?”
“No. No, I don’t.” At that point, he sounded just like Robin Gibb on The Barry Gibb Talk Show, but I figured making reference to the Brothers Gibb would get us nowhere.
“Surely you bought the Soft Love Adult Contemporary three cassette collection from a late-night infomercial in the 80s like I did, the one that contained Rabbitt’s hit with Crystal Gayle, ‘You And I.’ “
His eyebrows raised. “The lady with the long-ass hair?”
“Yes, her!” Victory was in sight.
“I know her. But I don’t know that song.”
Exasperated, I explained, “He wrote ‘Kentucky Rain’ for Elvis. Have you heard of Elvis?”
“Elvis, yes. Kentucky, yes. Eddie Rabbitt, no.” And even though he was only saying the words, I knew that he was misspelling Rabbitt in his mind. Curse him.
Ugh. So don’t cry for Charley Pride, Argentina. Cry for Eddie Rabbitt and his smoldering bedroom eyes.
No Hat Rack For The Regulars
This was too good not to share–a drugstore in Leakey, Texas in 1973.
I Don't Get It 