Ooh, la la, ladies! Somebody just upped the charm bracelet game! Look how beautifully it lays (or is it lies?) against the skin. What’s not a lie is how it will subliminally encourage you to eat protein each time it scrapes against the keyboard as you type.
It compliments any outfit you have in shades of peanut shell or Baptist red brick. It’s nutty, all right.
During this time of Easter and resurrection, it’s important to remember that Mr. Peanut did NOT in fact die for good, but was (as the Super Bowl commercial revealed) reborn by the tears of the Kool-Aid Man (oh, yeah!) in a much less spiritual or legitimate manner.
I may have conquered using apps on a smart phone or removing jams from testy copy machines, but the technology of yore frightens me. I don’t get it now, and I certainly wouldn’t have gotten in back in 1955, at the University of Colorado.
“the university’s prized electronic brain”
Nope. Too many wires.
Next up: isotopes. Haven’t talked about proton/neutron stuff since high school, and I’m not gonna start now.
the isotopes lab for atomic research equipment
She is clearly steering a cardboard ship, but I know not what the men do.
engineering the thing
Too many black holes and knobs in the cube. It doesn’t even fit in my pocket.
“the latest electronic equipment available to AIEE-IRE members”
Get a load of this jet engine compressor! I’d rather feed a porcupine.
And this last one takes the cake, with “nurse aids performing the pleasant task of hairbrushing for a paralytic.” Pleasant? That looks like a nightmare.
As my husband testified on stage in church last Sunday, we are cheap, cheap, cheap. I haven’t purchased a book at retail price in over a decade, maybe two. Everything I read is from Half-Price Books, and only the clearance section, from $1 to $3. That is how I came upon this:
This blue book from 1954 has been sitting on my shelf for a few years now, waiting for the perfect moment that never comes. I don’t know why I thought this topic would have interested me in the least; I’m certainly not ever going to READ it. Perhaps I thought it would have cool pictures.
It did.
Like this pseudo-Scarlet getting into crinolines in 1865.
London Stereoscopic Co.
I’ve always felt I was born too late, but this picture makes me glad I was born post-antebellum. You couldn’t even hold hands with an orangutan, much less a suitor, in that dress.
The author contends that the Victorian age ended in 1914, but all of these images were taken much earlier than that. Below is the building of “The Great Eastern,” which seems as though it’s lacking a noun, launched on 1/31/1858.
Very Victorian, no? Jackets and ties and Abe Lincoln hats, although this is a proper British book.
With proper tea-time being had.
1850
And proper use of the sewing machine. The dress seems a bit much for such labor.
Lo and behold, lodged between the pages, I stumbled upon a receipt from 1955, a year after it was published. I found it ironic that Professor Wolff ponied up $3.64, whilst I, 65 years later, ponied up only $3.24.
Am I being cheeky, like this 1890 can-can Parisian dancer?
Perhaps I should motor on.
J.A. Koosen and H.J. Lawson in a Lutzmann, 1895
This last image is from 1860, entitled “Romance on a Stile.” FYI, a stile is an arrangement of steps that allows people to climb over a fence or wall. I don’t see that being done here. I can almost hear her saying, “No, no, Nanette,” or “No, no, Nigel,” as it were. The only British stile I’m aware of is singer Harry Styles, but that’s a horse of a different color.
And in Victorian times, there was no color. At least not in the photos.
I Don't Get It 