Out Of The Hustle & The Bustle
Category: Culture
She’s My Pride And Joy
Mr. Barry Howard of Cumberland, Kentucky may be smiling as his hand pats the hood of a new truck, but his wife’s pursed lips reveal more to the story. The truck was bought with funds received from his black lung payments, compensating for the shortness of breath caused by coal dust particles in his lungs.
How To Party Like It’s 1970
Once you’ve worked up a sweat, go grab yourself a glass of cold refreshments from an ancient chaperone.
Dance to the groovy tunes of a guy wearing a headband.
And if possible, be crowned something that proves you’re better than everyone else.
See the envy in their eyes as you rock that crown. Dang, it feels good to be a gangster.
When Your Prescription Is A Generic Instead Of $500
Make Fun A Habit
Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum
Fisherman Chic Linked To Recent Eye-Gouging
As you can see, the fishermen of Nazaré, Portugal traditionally donned checkered garb and long, wool hats (which could work double-duty as Christmas elves).
Doesn’t he look like Santa’s long-lost lumberjack cousin?
And tradition is not entirely lost to this day.
The Woman At The Well
Lyda Benton of Ringgold, Georgia (whose CURRENT population is just over 3500) ladles some wellwater to her brother, who won the state’s Outstanding 4-H Boy title–and consequently, that shiny tractor upon which he happily sits.
Before Gaga’s Meat Dress, There Was Frank Skirt
Geene Courtney had the honor of being Queen of National Hot Dog Week 1955, a pageant sponsored by the Zion Meat Company. Personally, I’d rather have skipped the meat scarf and just posed with a fish on a skyscraper.
Gail Hooper was paired with this 56-pound catfish (that must have been carried up an elevator all those flights of the Hotel New Yorker), as part of her duty as Miss National Catfish Queen in 1954.
I imagine they both took long, hat baths after that!
Super Sonic
Pee Wee King Hillbilly Band Concert 1955
Cart Before The Horse
In the past couple of days, several of my friends have begun decorating their homes for the holidays. Two of them have confirmed Christmas trees in full regalia, and they’ve received mixed responses on social media. Some declare it’s too early; some say a month isn’t long enough to celebrate. The rule-abiding part of me agrees that convention should be abided by; Friday is the earliest time to fetch those attic boxes.
But then again, the Hallmark Channel has made me a sucker for Christmas movies, so the spirit has been in me for nearly a month. This year, they started showing them BEFORE Halloween, which was fine and dandy with me. Let’s face it; Thanksgiving movies are rare. Thanksgiving songs are rare. I love giving thanks, and I love borderline gluttony. But Christmas is MAGICAL.
I confess I’m itching to put up my Coca-Cola Christmas villages, to lay out the several ornament-themed Christmas kitchen mats that are so soft on my overworked feet, to hang jingle bells on my doors, and lights on the staircase. But we’re HOSTING Thanksgiving this year, so I have to keep it in check. I have to welcome guests into the world of browns and oranges, not red and greens. I may want to burst inside and launch into rounds of “Feliz Navidad,” but I’ll have to be the anti-Elf, restrained, focused on keeping the coffee cups full and not the yuletide gaiety. Not yet, Santa. Not yet.
But I tell you what’s going down that Black Friday morning–that tree goes up. That pre-lit 8-foot tree, my friends. And the magic can commence.
I Don't Get It 