Humor – Page 38 – I Don't Get It

All I’m Saying, Myrtle, Is I Wouldn’t Go Out In My 4 Million Dollar Ring After Posting It On Instagram

Not Exactly How I Picture St. Patrick…

I Wasn’t Planning On It

I. Don’t. Get. It.

Unless that panda is sassy backtalking.

How To Wear An Aztec Sun Properly

Even from this side view, you can imagine what a target the sun makes on his back. It says, “Check out Mr. Snazzy.” No bully would dare shove him in a locker.

Today’s designers could never compete with Wally’s smooth graphic Spirograph shirt of yore. So they resort to comedy.

Look! It’s a cat inside an Aztec sun, shooting lasers out of its eyes, which makes it Caturday. What? Maybe you have to be stoned to get it.

Or they abandon the Aztec sun to reflect something vaguely spiritual and Native American, like this sun/moon/horn/dreamcatcher tee on a trendily-tatted twentysomething. Now we know where she stores her rubberbands.

Wait, those are bracelets.

Now these boxers are pretty cute. I have to hand it to them. Cartoon suns keep it light.

Just remember–boxers are temporary: tattoos are forever. Even the tattoo seems steamed about it.

The Queen Has Spoken

1970 Blackcat Sophomore Sweetheart Dance

Politics Is Hilarious

Why is FDR howling with laughter? He and son James, along with William McAdoo and advisor James Farley, are responding to the quips of Will Rogers as he introduces the new president in 1933.

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“Mr. Roosevelt is a plain-spoken man. Remember that speech last night about the banks? Long adjectives and nouns–he didn’t mess with ’em at all. He knows what the country wants is relief and not rhetoric. He is the first Harvard man to know enough to drop three syllables when he has something to say. Why, compared to me, he is almost illiterate.” — May 7, 1933

Seconds On Pork Sausages, Please

As I read that aloud, I can hear the man’s voice saying it. I wonder if you hear it, too? That typical 50s voice. “Why, Dick and Jane even give their dog, Spot, sausage and eggs every day, and he’s never felt better!”

Khaki Wacky Catcalls

Back in the day, khaki wacky meant boy crazy. It appears that this doll has gotten hooched up on Borden’s milk and lost her inhibitions. But who could blame her? The nifty fellow on the left is so brawny and statuesque, while his bold-collared pal is sporting a buck sweater that no gal could resist.

And I’m serious about khaki wacky. It was even a series of comics.

The Great Pre-Tinder: Tales Of Love From The Washateria

What better place to meet your new beau than at the laundromat, when you’re wearing your last-ditch threads and macrame vests while your good clothes toss around in suds? These girls discovered a fun-sized satin-jacket-clad boy emerging from the bowels of a Huebsch dryer. Bonus: he could very nearly fit into the laundry basket! Score!