the good old days

OK, there are a lot of things disturbing about this comic book panel. But look at their faces. (No, not the registration errors which gave her a white moustache, look at the expressions.)

She’s obviously manic. ‘Nuff said.

But him — Depressed? Disappointed? Actually a zombie who’s “wait” was not eating her brain until their wedding night? It’s kinda hard to tell.

It’s also worth noting that they tell you the wait WAS worth it, implying that after the tedious religious formality was over they dashed off to a convenient closet and — um — “stopped waiting,” then came back out to pose for this PSA picture.

My Own Romance #31 via Lady, That’s My Skull

The parents:

Our adorable offspring:

Images from TurnYourNameIntoAFace.com — you’ll get very different results if you include last names.

Yes, the mid-century married couple was a pair of crazies… at least, that’s what the advertising shows us.

Lidian of Kitchen Retro today featured another of those scary Lysol ads, this one showing an apparently sex-crazed wife trying to break into whatever room her husband has locked himself. Why has he barred the door, refusing to comply with her marital demands? Because she hasn’t used caustic floor cleaner to give herself chemical burns, and doesn’t smell hygienic.

There are just so many levels of creepy here. I feel sorry for anybody who was brought up in a world which thought an ad like this was insightful and compelling.

Since the New Depression is upon us and we’ll all be eating our own shoes for the foreseeable future, here’s a joke to help you enjoy the lean times.

Old Man Clackett was getting pretty long in the tooth. Sensing that his dying day was near, he figured it was time to confess his wrongdoings to those he’d sinned against.

“Maw Clackett, you come on in here,” he called to his beloved wife of 61 years. “I got to talk to you.”

Maw Clackett wheeled into the room. “What are you carrying on about, Paw?” she asked.

“It’s time I told you about my old pebble jar, Maw. You see, every time I was unfaithful to you I put a pebble in this here jar.” He showed her the jar, which held three pebbles.

“Well, old man, I reckon that ain’t too bad. To tell the truth, I got a jar of my own. Every time I stepped out on you, I dropped a bean down in it.” She wheeled over to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled a jar out from under the clothes.

Old Man Clackett winced. He hadn’t expected this. “Well then, let’s see it, woman.”

The old man smiled when he saw it. “I have to say I’m a little relieved. Nothing but two beans in that there jar. I can’t carp at you much about that.”

“Well,” said Maw Clackett, “That’s what was left in there after that mess of beans we had during the Depression.”

– via Slashfood

Now, any guy who thought they could get something that realistic was a fool who deserved to be parted from his money. (Pretty fail-safe business model, though. Who would want to sue the company for deceptive advertising, thereby admitting they’d bought a blow-up doll?) OK, it’s amusing to read copy that tries to sell the doll for pretty much everything except what we all know it’s designed for.

(We all know it’s an excuse for grown men to play Barbies, right? Right. Yeah, that’s definitely it.)

But seriously, the thing that most scares me is the “free 10-day home trial.” I can’t fathom how they could possibly accept a return if somebody decided they didn’t want it after all.

Via Found in Mom’s Basement.

The Etiquette Hell site is an interesting source for anyone who’s been involved in a wedding — as a spouse, as an attendant, as a parent, or even just as a guest. My particular favorite is the “bridezilla” stories, in which once reasonable women transform into raging bitches in their quest for one perfect day. And perfection must be achieved at all costs — financial, emotional, and personal.

But have you ever wondered what happens to those wedding-day-obsessed brides when the wedding day is over and they have to adjust to the real world once more? Thanks to Love Diary #16, we can find out…

Apparently, Crazy Bride doesn’t go away, it just transforms into Man-Hating Shrew (who luckily can be transformed yet again into Docile Damsel, just add water).

I have to sympathize with the bride, though. The whole episode is probably brought on by her simmering resentment of the groom’s insistence on having his hair dyed green for the ceremony.

Thanks to the discovery that cigarettes really aren’t quite as healthy as you might want them to be, it’s not common that everyone around you is a smoker. Going up to a complete stranger and asking, “Got a light?” is a lot less likely to work.

It’s also a lot harder to have a book of matches on hand even if you are a smoker — you used to be able to get them at any restaurant, bar, or hotel, but I think I’ve seen less than five such freebies in my whole life. Clues in mystery stories were often related to something scrawled on a matchbook. They were everywhere, and they were interesting.

Image from Millie Motts, whose blog is often full of pure awesome.

Ah, the classic tale of boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl in tragic bus accident…

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Actually, Tracy is just toying with Kevin’s heart to further her aim of saving all the lives on Bus 77. It’s a cursed route — Tracy herself is a ghost, since she died in a Bus 77 accident last year — but Tracy is ensuring that she will not have died in vain by coming back from the grave.

While it may see clumsy to merge bus safety instruction with soppy love story, the soppy love story shines through. You end up feeling really sorry for Kevin…

• because he’s so lonely that he will feel deep friendship for a ghost
• because the ghost seems to care more about bus safety (all the passengers on the bus) than him
• because she incidentally makes him look like he’s talking to himself thus neatly ruining his chances for forming normal, healthy friendships with non-dead people.

To wrap up, your driving safety lesson for the day: Parents of school-age children should not move to houses which may have cliffs or abandoned gravel quarries on the route from home to school.

Another fascinating story with very little information about what’s actually going on, from my family’s archived letters of yore…

Dear Mrs Bagnall–

This evening, in the heat of an argument, I said something which I keenly regret, something I regret, not only because it is not the truth, but because it is not what I believe. The world seems to be making somewhat of a cynic out of me and I forget sometimes that there are some people who are all that they appear to be and could not possibly be covered by my statement of tonight.

If you could realize the respect and regard in which I hold the friendship of yourself and Mr. Bagnall as well as that of Rosalind, you would also realize that I could not intentionally say or think of anything so utterly foreign to that regard as was my much regretted statement of tonight.

Please forgive me as an unthinking, impetuous boy who knows a worthwhile friend when he finds one but who is badly worried now for fear of losing the most sincere, the kindest, the best one of them all.

Honestly, hopefully, and sincerely yours,
Fred D. Morgan

Whatever Fred said, apparently not even this apology would make up for it. Rosalind married a nice boy named Paul about a year later

Spotted in Sweetheart Diary #50, January 1960…

Uh, what is a “Dial L for Love” compact?

Weird. Why would you need your phone number on your makeup — in case you forgot who you were, or wanted to call yourself?

Luckily, they included an explanatory one-page comic.

Wow. Product placement at its absolute worst. Bad product, too.

Advertisements in comic books are continuing to convince me they were the stupidest possible things ever. Urrrgh.