Me, Too, Kid. Me, Too.
Category: Photography
Polly, Want Two Crackers?
Two jovial Chicago ladies, arm in arm, become bird perches at Miami’s Parrot Jungle. I love their smiles, the hat, the earrings, the glasses, the lace pocket, the buttons–every bit of it! Carpe diem, ladies.
Fixodent And Forget It
For the folks in Amsterdam who are neither potheads nor prostitutes, fun is often had by an affable after-dinner egg-blowing game. However, one woman blew so hard that her false teeth flew out of her mouth and landed on the table–to the delight of those around her.
For more on egg-blowing, visit last year’s post.
For more on keeping dentures in place, Fixodent and forget it.
Threesomes of 1937
Sharp Blades Breed Unwholesome Thoughts
Ten Minutes Of July Sky
Fixes For Bad Hair Days
- Enlist the help of pom-poms.
2. Stick a blow-up animal on your head.
3. Cowboy hats.
4. Just go with it.
Literal Downlow Conversation
Today I got my hands on a 1937 yearbook. I’ve been collecting yearbooks for many years, and have found that yearbooks from the 1930s decade are virtually non-existent. Annuals from the 1920s, however, are much easier to find. I chalk it up to the fact that during The Great Depression, which encompasses all of the 1930s, people were more concerned with getting food on the table and finding shelter than ponying up the cash for a yearbook, if they even could afford a university education. I imagine demand was not great, so fewer were printed than in the prior decade. But that is only my wager.
In any case, celebration and decadence still existed for some, as evidenced by the Delta Theta Phi banquet dinner in these images. Holidays were still holidays, and life went on.
Rush Rush
When The Ukulele Solo Goes Long
“Be A Clown, Be A Clown, All The World Loves A Clown” – Cole Porter
Stephanie and Deidre from Highland Heights Elementary enjoy the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus in 1969.
Deathwish: Upside-Down And Backwards Writing
This could never happen now; they don’t teach cursive in schools any more. But back in the 1920s, Harry Kahne–“The Man with the Multiple Mind”–showed off his penmanship while dangling from the Majestic Theatre in Houston. Crowds gathered to witness the blood rush to his head as he scribbled patriotic lyrics. Don’t worry; he didn’t die until decades later in 1955.
I Don't Get It 