the good old days

Speaking from personal experience: this is totally what women in a factory look like.

Well, nowadays you really have to wear steel-toed leather boots for safety, but other than that… totally.

But, uh, seriously — it very well may cause that. I can’t guarantee it won’t. I hereby refuse to accept any liability if you’re reading this on an airplane and suddenly get eaten by Gorgo.

Go have some fun yourself at the Warning Sign Generator.

Comic books weren’t the only source of questionable (or ridiculous) advertisements back in the day. See page 2 of an article about photography in April 1930 Popular Science…

Yeah, birdhouses. That’ll make you rich.

That’s a modern equivalent $48 to $72 an hour. (I found this one extra funny because my father worked in a lawnmower repair shop while he was in high school. Even though it was the 50’s, I still don’t think he was making $4 an hour…)

At least this stuff is funny, because you can think, “Poor sap, buying instructions on how to make hundreds of dollars building birdhouses!” and laugh a bit at his expense. The modern version is endlessly repetitive “stock tips” and “business secrets” cramming my inbox…

Office Courtesy: Meeting the Public (1952) reminded me slightly of why I quit a job years ago — I wasn’t willing to put up with the bullshit Barbara has to, although it’s her job to do so and it wasn’t mine.

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I’m amused by the mild undercurrent of familiar touching between the two roommates. I really doubt it’s the impression Encyclopaedia Britannica Films intended to portray, but hey, it’s 1952, an open-minded time that accepted everyone’s sexuality. But we’re here to learn about secretarial attitude, not lesbians!

It’s mildly fun to see Barbara and Ruth sitting there sniping about Mr. Franklin’s secretary (who, frankly, deserves it). Apparently future secretaries were best educated by showing them snarky bitchery. But it also drives home how annoying it really is to be a secretary. Do everything, be cheerful and friendly to everyone… jeez, you even need to swallow your gum whenever the boss walks in the room.

When I worked at a small company, I was eventually moved to a office by the front door. It’s a 30-person company, so I was asked to “chip in” by answering the door and greeting guests (when I objected, I got a lecture on my lack of team spirit). It was incredibly annoying; I constantly having my work interrupted, and it didn’t make it more “fun” if I had a cheerful, positive attitude towards whatever strange visitor was dropping by. (And I did have a cheerful, positive attitude, at least on the outside.) I’m an engineer, not a secretary, and so it was infuriating to be put in that position; it was one of the reasons I was happy to leave.

Shortly after I did move on, they hired a receptionist (who doubled as an HR something) for that office, but had an impossible time finding another manufacturing engineer to do the many things I had done… teaching another valuable lesson, prioritize your employees’ workload based on what you really need. They lost a lot more man-hours by having an incompetent engineer and a cheerful receptionist.

Grandma knew how to be thrifty. She used everything. None of this modern wasteful throwing away of, for example, calf’s heads.

Calf’s Head Surprised

And the dish set before them,–O dish well devised!–
Was what Old Mother Glasse calls “a calf’s head surprised.”
—MOORE.

Instructions: Clean and blanch a calf’s head, boil it till the bones will come out easily, then bone and press it between two dishes, so as to give it a headlong form; beat it with the yolks of four eggs, a little melted butter, pepper and salt. Divide the head when cold, and brush it all over with the beaten eggs, and strew over it grated bread, which is put over one half; a good quantity of finely minced parsley should be mixed; place the head upon a dish, and bake it of a nice brown color. Serve it with a sauce of parsley and butter, and with one of good gravy, mixed with the brains, which have been previously boiled, chopped, and seasoned with a little cayenne and salt.

Of course, this is from an 1864 cookbook, so it isn’t really grandma, it’s great-great-great-grandma. And she was probably chided by great-great-great-great-grandma for wasting the skullbones. You can make … uh … calf bone stew with that.

Of course, I’m sure you’re all wondering how the hell you’d carve a calf’s head, right?

Commence by making long slices from end to end of the cheek, cutting quite through… With each of these slices serve a cut of what is called the throat sweet-bread, which lies at the fleshy part of the neck end…. A little of the tongue is usually placed on each plate, and about a spoonful of the brains…. Many persons consider the palate a dainty, and it should always be offered at table to the guests or members of the family.

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Some of the advice is good, like “wash and peel fruits and vegetables that were exposed to fallout.” Some is a bit more questionable, like piling hay around your barn to protect your livestock. All of it is amusing, though.

I’d love to get my hands on a copy of some of those brochures, particularly “Your Livestock Can Survive FALLOUT.” I doubt they’re terribly common, though…

Ike The Bike is your narrator and guide through the 1978 film I Like Bikes. While its pacing and slow narration seem best suited to grade schoolers than 16-year-olds in drivers ed, it’s clearly trying to warn new drivers about the difficulty of noticing bicycles and the importance of keeping an eye out. Full of bike-car safety lessons and 70’s fashion… and a wee bit of drivel.

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The film centers around Lisa, who used to like — nay, love — bikes when she was younger. However, as soon as her license arrives in the mail (yes, kids, the license used to take time to make), she drives over her bike with a car. Yes, she runs it over. No more bikes for her, just that gas-guzzling boat of a Cadillac! But Ike still optimistically insists that she likes bikes, showing many situations in which she has a chance to demonstrate that by watching closely for bicyclists and not running THEM over like she did her own bike.

At about 10 minutes in, Ike goes on a minor tirade about the fragility of bikes. “Little things upset us” can also be read as a caution to the car-driving world — bikes are touchy and swift to anger, do not incur their wrath! That’s the lesson I’d like to leave you with today… some day, bicycles will rise up against their automobile oppressors and retake the roadways of the world. And they’re just the gateway vehicle for the dreaded unicycle riders.

In the 1930’s…

Skippy Peanut Butter
Improved by HYDROGENATION

Hydrogenation? What’s that? Sounds scientifickal!

Since partially hydrogenated vegetable oils are cheaper than animal source fats, are available in a wide range of consistencies, and have other desirable characteristics (e.g., increased oxidative stability (longer shelf life))…

Improved by making it cheaper, smoother, and longer-lasting, I guess, but also full of tasty trans fats.

Originally seen at Serious Eats

In celebration, let’s review Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Crazy fairies, magic love potions, and a bit of bestiality, what’s not to like?

The ultra-condensed version:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
By William Shakespeare
Ultra-Condensed by David J. Parker and Samuel Stoddard

Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena: We’re all in love with each other the wrong way around.

(Everyone goes into the woods. They have wacky experiences, pair off correctly, and live happily ever after.)

THE END

Photo: Vivian Leigh as Titania, 1937

Uh, ok, so there isn’t really that much of an age-old problem of fake food. However, in 1934, Van Olkon and Arthur Cohler (two names you’ll probably never hear again) solved the problem of melty fake food.

In typically over-the-top Modern Mechanix literary style, the article waxes (ha ha!) poetic about the delectable treats that can be made with this process…

Green peppers filled with gleaming macaroni, and topped with rich yellow cheese, turkeys roasted and fairly dripping with delicious gravies, and even chocolate candy are duplicated in wax with a naturalness that is unbelievable.

The chocolate candy would be the easiest of those foods to make.

But anyway, the process of simply casting a turkey (or whatever food) in wax to make it look realistic is cheating. It’s like if Michaelangelo had covered a guy named David in plaster and used that as a mold for the statue, instead of sculpting from marble. Quite realistic, but not particularly impressive — especially since David would have probably had a rather horrified expression on his face while being smothered in plaster.

I suppose you don’t care much about artistry when you want durable fake food for your display window, though.