“Hey, sorry about your goat, guys! I have to go open a chain of questionable chicken restaurants, I’ll be back to settle up later.”
Honestly, I have no idea what is going on with this postcard. The guy with the giant plaid butt, the Va-va-voom lady with the impoosibly tiny feet, even the skinny guy in the closet, they all seem to be angry about something. The images this scene conjures are deeply disturbing.
An old postcard from the Outrigger Prince Kuhio, featuring some people sitting around in the lobby wearing Leis (Am I spelling the plural of that correctly?) Teresa can’t take me anywhere; I would drop my lei in the nearest trash can.
These are probably timeshare salespeople waiting to pounce on people coming down the elevator if our trips to Las Vegas are any indication. It should be illegal to harass tourists. People have only so much vacation time and spend a bundle to do it. For some, it’s a once in a lifetime trip. LEAVE US ALONE!
Typically, I will take a postcard and add some wiseacre or snarky comment or caption to make it more “honest”. This one, however, is plain and simple, a plea for the recipient to stop whining, because “dis ain’t no morgue”. I don’t know what you would send to cheer up someone who worked at the morgue.
It should be noted that this postcard was printed a scant few years before a global flu pandemic. At that point the thing to do about someone sniffling, would be to get as far away from them as possible.
When I was in boot camp, they usually just yelled and banged garbage cans. It didn’t matter to me, I was usually awake, hearing people that got up even earlier marching in the distance, or at least the wind whistling off the lake.
This card was sent to Billie R. From Virgil, and I have several of them, I suspect she kept them all her days. As far as I can make out, it says;
Hello Billy! I received your sweet letter today and was sure glad to hear from you. I guess that I did tell Eddie that you were working every day, I allow that (something) short of hands…. He would give you a job while school was out but it would be too much on you for regular work. You need to rest and play while you are young and can enjoy yourself —-
Truer words were never spoken, Virgil!
P.S. What is the guy in the next bunk dreaming about?
I came across this very old postcard in a lot I purchased a while back. This family is glad to pose on their little hill and with their (reindeer?)
Let’s pause for a moment and have some sympathy for mom.
So I was thinking, what’s up with the hill? Turns out that it’s their house, like this other Lapp family from the same era.
I see only three ladies, and apparently four guys came on this trip. You would think that that having the extra guy out on the lake instead of cramping their style would be a good thing? I would rather go fishing than hang around with these cranky fucks too.
We were mulling over where to go on vacation this year. I had a crazy idea, we have a box of random postcards (because that’s what packrats do)… My idea was to blindly grab a postcard from the stack, and go there on vacation.
It would be wonderful to go to Mrs. Henderson’s Crown Point Chalet. Alas, this postcard is almost 100 years old. Her health failing, she sold the Chalet in the late 1920’s, and opened a small dining room in Portland. The depression caused that business to fail, and Mrs. Henderson died broke at age 58. This is from the MountHoodHistory.com website. I am assuming that Mrs. Henderson was a widow.
She should have put a picture of one of those home cooked chicken dinners on the back.
There’s a lot going on in this Dodge City postcard. At first I thought the guy in the street outside the cigar store had slipped in some horse poop, but it looks like the Man in the Yellow Hat has given him lead poisoning. Curious George would be appalled by TMITYH’s dark side.
The guy in the yellow shirt at the bottom right, had a WANTED flyer for some dude, and as luck would have it that dude just came up behind him. But the look on his face! Keep your cool man! This old west reenactment show was all very entertaining… Until I saw they hung a guy from a tree on the hill! At the rate people are being shot or hung, pretty soon it will be a ghost town.
Here’s a postcard from the sleepy little town of Oil City, Pennsylvania – but wait! In the lower right, you can clearly see three ex-convicts in drag preparing to rob the post office- doesn’t seem like that would be a lucrative target, but what do I know; the only thing I have stolen is my wife’s heart. The sender wrote, among other things;
“…Am working hard this summer. No joking, I am working 10 hrs. a day and most of the time with a pick and a shovel at that. It certainly does me good.”
He’s a better man than me, I would be whining like a loose fan belt if I had to use a pick and shovel for 10 yours, in the hot Pennsylvania August sun.