I was listening to the Larry Miller podcast, he was going on about saving soap slivers in the shower, somehow mushing them together to form a bar sufficient to bathe with. Apparently that is how they roll on the island of Milleronia.
Larry would be thrilled to have one of these Soap Banks. I found them in my dad’s old 1951 Jensen-Byrd wholesale supplier catalog. You just put your odd soap slivers inside, get it wet, and let the DuPont Cellulose sponge get nice and sudsy. That generation had endured the Great Depression and they were keen on saving money.
I guess when your head hurts so bad that you can’t even stand the sight of a trademark stamp, you don’t care about side effects, but acetanilid will do a number on your kidneys and liver if you aren’t careful; it’s basically acetaminophen, and here comes the flu pandemic of 1917. Probably not a fun time to be a pharmacist either.
Back in the day, apparently you could get into the Saturday Matinee for what? A dollar? Thirty-Five cents? Nope! Just six 7-up bottle caps! You could probably find them in the alley behind Uncle Larry’s house, or ask your big brother who works in a diner!
PLUS! A real guy from “Soldiers of Fortune” with a treasure chest of free toys and stuff! See a movie called “Springfield Rifle”! If that’s not violent, there’s always the cartoons.
Chick Chandler, An acclaimed vaudeville actor, who played various wise guy types over the years, played Toubo. I like to think that he personally made these appearances. He seems like the kind of guy who would love that job. He was married to the same lady for decades, and they passed away at almost the same time, a day apart. A life well lived.
Since cellphones with the WAZE app installed did not yet exist in 1906, motorists of the day resorted to using confetti flung across the roadway to warn other drivers of a “police trap” ahead.
Since speeds were limited by the capabilities of your horseless carriage, I have to assume that such traps involved general police harassment, and perhaps a nightstick on the noggin. One would be well advised to purchase the proffered tickets to the Policeman’s Widows and Orphans Ball.
It’s 1946, the war is over, and Look magazine asks people what they want. to buy. Because apparently everyone has piles of cash now. They want a pony, a convertible, a cruise. But Dominic just wants a simple gold band…
“No, Dominic, I don’t know what you mean… Exactly what are you interested in having her do?” – Quebec girl’s dad
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.
Apparently some hippie took some newspaper articles and this deceptive invitation, and Mod-podged the hell out of this wooden cigar box.
You have to wonder if some Nixon supporters got all excited to read “You are cordially invited to attend the inauguration of Richard Milhous Nixon…” only to find that it’s just a come-on to round up some college students, pacifists, mothers of draftees, hardcore leftists, recreational protesters, and assorted filthy hippies. I don’t think it was too cordial either.
But what do I know? I was 8. Riding around on my Schwinn with the banana seat, getting my bell-bottoms caught in the chain. (I don’t know what happened to my chain guard)
Not sure where I dug this up from, but I am pretty sure my dad worked here or in a very similar situation, when he was a draftsman.
He once told me that for a while, they wouldn’t issue a new pencil unless you brought them your used-up stub, and they would measure it to make sure it was used up enough. Have you guessed Boeing yet?
The guy with the pipe seems to be looking at a vacation snapshot. It’s tough to get back into the groove after a nice vacation. You have to adjust your depth perception so your rut feels like a groove.
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.