Is it me, or does that look like a frosty pint of ale, instead of motor oil?
The attendants were so thoughtful, giving lollipops to youngsters! This was before kids were diabetic, when Mom wore pearls and heels to fill ‘er up.
And Dad wasn’t left in the dark. Roy could talk shop and spill the tea. He was worse than a gossiping hen.
Makes you want to travel on the wide, open road, don’t it, folks? Well, maybe in late May…
Even slim-hipped WWII vets can’t make three a comfortable proposition in this booth. Reaching for his Coke, he’d knock a bottle over. How is the fellow in the middle supposed to move? Can he breathe with his pal’s pipe smoke literally four inches from his face?
Hair adorned with flower, a hostess at New York’s Stage Door Canteen offers birthday cake to servicemen.
Those of you denied birthday parties may have not even received cake this year. You can’t trust the local bakery to have prepared it covid-free. Perhaps you had to make do with queso de Swiss like Senor Gonzales here.
But from all us at “I Don’t Get It,” here’s wishing you a much better 2021!
Chair carriers support travelers and their goods as they painstakingly make their way up the steep steps from the Kialing River in Chungking, 1941. And they didn’t even have Asics with good arch support. The provisional capital of China, not under Japanese occupation, would suffer from continuous terror bombing by the Japanese air force until 1943.
Below, conscripts of the Chinese Nationalist Army walk through the city on labor detail. Makes social distancing seem like a walk in the park.
Today, what we called Chungking is now Chongqing, but it still looks a bit congested for my taste. You wouldn’t catch me on that tram.
Honestly, before today, I only associated the word with old Chun King ads.
But today, I am sheltered-in-place and more educated than before.
And glad I don’t live on the Yangtze River.
During these heady times, it’s hard to refrain from going stir crazy. But keep in mind that cabin fever is always better than lowgrade fever. Even the President said a hell-to-the-no when Birx mentioned her fever.
In the words of Nirvana, stay away.
Running out of ideas for solo activities? Well, let’s take a cue from history.
You could make a pyramid, reminiscent of the wonder of the world. You will be self-isolating, so no one will see your Daisy Dukes or judge your ale intake.
You could bundle up under the covers and read a good book, or just the Cliff’s Notes.
Catch up on the funnies in your paper.
You could science up and create a vaccine.
Or spend time with microfilm. How long has it been?
Try tobacco! And maybe write the Great America Novel while you’re at it!
Lie on your bed (but first take your saddle oxfords off because the virus can stay on the soles of your shoes for days) and think about yesterday, when all your troubles seemed so far away.
Pick up the telly and place a call to an elder relative whom you usually avoid because conversations with them are meandering and taxing and oppose your belief system.
If spring has sprung in your town, pack a sack lunch and head over to a nearby park, spray the entire bench with Lysol, sit down, and enjoy a snack, while hearing the mating calls of the doves.
And if you are part of the unfortunate “essential” few who have to be in public, remember to wear your mask.
Today we spotlight the students of WHHS in 1978. “Let us out! Let us out!” they shout to the hills.
Maybe you’re feeling like this girl right now. You can’t even.
Maybe you’re delirious with cabin fever, or you’re wearing the same shirt three days in a row, the one in desperate need of spot treatment with stain remover. Seriously, you need to Shout that out, girl.
No doubt about it, emotions are running high these days.
There might even be some name-calling going on.
But you can still make an effort to communicate with your spouse, maybe over a couple of Dr. Peppers.
Ladies, there’s no excuse not to don your “Foxy Lady” belt to entice him during quarantine.
Especially if he’s a super hunk.
And if he’s not feeling randy, you can always spend time with a good book.
Just remember: we’re in this together, and before long, we’ll all be hanging out again.
But for now, we’ll have to make do with drive-by waving.
She’s not listening to a word about Ken’s board meeting. Why? Because Old Forester, that’s why. It’s not called Old Banker for a reason, Ken.
But Meg’s not the only with her eye on the prize.
Behold, Irish eyes are smiling. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s a lovely day to be outdoors in the piney woods, jaunty green hat askew, sporting a thick gold wedding band, smell of beef charring in the air. Somehow, there’s an endless tap of beer in the park. Keep it flowing.
Why? Because dextrins and maltose and B-complex vitamins, like your doctor said. It does a body good, and pairs well with burgers and horseshoes. Cheers to healthful values!
I guess I don’t get the artistic vision of this ad. To me, I see a car unable to simply cross a shallow stream, a driver who has abandoned his vehicle, and a half-naked woman pressed against the windshield, foot whimsically in the air, brick at her side.
Of course, that’s sexist. SHE could have very well been the driver when the LSD kicked in. She drove right into a creek. She took her clothes off. She got on top of the car to get a better view of the melting dancing hippos inside. But the brick? I don’t get it.
I Don't Get It 