Yes. All those geometric figures and unnecessary flaps, bangled belts, and denim tops.
Yes. Popped collars.
Flintstone Barbies.
David Byrne meets Max Headroom.
Um, no. I never wore that. What IS that? Is it dead? Is it ruffles? He is speechless.
He wishes he could unsee it. But he can’t.
It’s already been seen.
All images from 1987 UT Austin Cactus.
As many of you know, I judge all my books by their covers. The only books I purchase are in the clearance $1-$3 section at Half Price Books, chosen firstly by their spines, then their covers, and then the summaries on the inside cover. I read them in a matter of weeks and donate them back to the store when I’m done. I haven’t bought a retail book from Barnes & Noble in over a decade. Why pay $25 for a book when you could eat enchiladas and have a frosty Coke?
So today, as I perused the clearance section, this little book caught my eye with its bright colors, still vivid since 1933. Isn’t it scandalous? I didn’t buy it because it’s not my fictional cup of tea, but I thought I should share its fun cover. Evidently, the author enjoyed the desert. And whoever does buy it will snag it for only three bucks!
Rare is the moment I get a yearbook pic without documenting the source. All I know about this source is that it was mid-60s and probably in Texas. In any event, I love the font on the Cork Room sign above. What I don’t get is why the other sign appears to say DROGS, not DRUGS.
But it wasn’t drugs that made this ‘do. Only black magic and sorcery could have enabled Lynda to achieve these “Kentucky Waterfall” tresses. Lynda shoots and scores on volume! 
This last one looks shows an era-specific soundboard with a not-so era-specific blond haircut. Must have seemed cutting edge at the time. 
1935 San Antone
It doesn’t seem like that long ago, but it’s been 40 years…
This is how I imagine it feels to be on a dating site, trying to find matches. The actual explanation goes as such:
Quagga.
A zebra subspecies.
London Zoo, 1870.
Extinct for over a century now.
Of course, good luck on getting the one Q and two of the three G’s.
Every year in the United States, over 300,000 people with appendicitis have their appendix surgically removed. While over 11 million cases are reported annually, deaths lie somewhere around 50,000. Still seems like a huge number and a bad way to go, right? The percentage of deaths was much higher before this fabulously-stached bald man in the middle, Charles McBurney, came up with what is called “McBurney’s Incision.” Rather than cutting through the abdominal walls, he made a diagonal incision that split the appendix to expose it.
In this 1900 pic, the surgeon is assisted by both staff and students. No surgical or scrub caps here. But at least most of them are wearing gloves! The interwebs says only 7-14% of us will ever have appendicitis. Personally, I don’t know anyone who has had it (or at least made mention of it). What about you? Do you have your appendix? Have you lost anything else? Some wisdom teeth? I got rid of my tonsils at age 22.
90 years ago, the US was already overrun with 40 million cars (ompare that to the 276 million registered vehicles today). Many of those were on their last leg. Chicago car dealers promoted Used Car Week by stacking jalopies nearly 50 feet high on an island in Lake Michigan, where they torched them. 100,000 folks gathered to watch the flames of 200 cars fill the air.
I don’t know if you’ve ever smelled one of these, but they don’t smell pleasant.
Ladies use to LOSE THEIR MINDS over Frank Sinatra back when Old Blue Eyes was a lithe young crooner. Swooning bobby-soxers did not concern themselves with invading his personal space, as you can see in this 1943 image. I can’t imagine interrupting a celebrity to ask for an autograph or a selfie; I find that incredibly tacky and self-serving. So the thought of planting a kiss on The Chairman of the Board, basically attacking his face, disturbs me.
Let him come to you.
I Don't Get It 