Category Archives: What is it Now??
Scans & random Images of stuff I find in the street and from the vast dismal swamp of the interwebs etc.
So I opened my front door, and the mysterious Uncle Mikey had left me a 3’x2′ reminder of the restaurant founded by Matt “Bimbo” Chutich, who called himself “The Friendly Yugoslav,” where, at 7 years old, I liked to guzzle red pop, pizza and elaborate sundaes, throwing peanut shells on the floor, listening to live dixieland music and EVERYBODY AT THE PARTY GOT A STRAW BOATER HAT. Though it wasn’t actually straw but like styrofoam. I touched up the print because there was some hot fudge on her thigh….
Ah, the good old-fashioned days. These days, you put a picture like this up in your Popular Family Restaurant and everybody’s like….wait…yikes, man, is that girl like fifteen years old?? Jesus, Frank, we’ve got to get the children out of here-
Regardless, that was really thoughtful of Uncle Mikey- THANKS MIKE!!!! (who points out that she’s wearing an engagement ring, for whatever that’s worth)
It ALMOST makes me want to listen to Dixieland Jazz
I happened across these paintings at a Sideshow at the Saline Community Fair- some of the excellent artworks are signed by a fellow whom the internets can’t find named T. Frank, way back in ’80, so, like, that Spider Girl has been active for 27 years, which is impressive. Others are signed by Glen C. Davies of Illinois, and MEAH Studios did the main sign.
I think I just found my next career.
1. Not “I-75.” It’s the CHRYSLER FREEWAY if you’re motorvatin’ between Downtown Detroit and Pontiac, or the FISHER FWY from Downtown Detroit on Downriver
2. Ain’t “I-94″ that goes East to Port Huron and West to Chicago. It’s the EDSEL FORD FWY
3. It’s not “I-96 ” that comes out of Downtown and heads for Brighton, Lansing and points West, It’s the JEFFRIES (alternately known as the ROSA PARKS for the 3 miles between Ford Rd. and the Fisher Freeway, more recently)
4. It’s not “I-696″ running parallel to 11 Mile Road between I-275 and the Edsel Ford, It’s the WALTER P. REUTHER FWY.
5. It’s not “M-10.” It’s the JOHN C. LODGE
6. It’s not “M-8.” It’s the DAVISON
7. It’s not “M-39.” It’s the SOUTHFIELD FWY
…if you refer to TELEGRAPH as US-24, Le Nain Rouge will bite off your kneecaps
Listed here are the psychologically engaging aspects of this perfect postcard, which I purchased off the rack in Florida my own self maybe fifteen years ago during one of the intense theme-park and biological engineering research trips for Piggleyland:
- The amped-up hand-painted colors. Please tell me what that bikini color is: I cannot find a word. I’m not sure it wholly refracts correctly on my corneas
- The alligator is cruelly reduced and crudely cut & pasted, with probably literal paste
- The now-opaque reference to an ancient cigarette campaign wherein people would be punched in the eye for supporting cigarettes of choice (*see below for examples stolen from interweb).
- This clever turn of phrase, “Us Florida Alligators would rather BITE than SWITCH,” was SO VERY compelling and hilarious that several variant versions featuring different models can be found**
- In all variants, the alligator knows that he’s quoting a cigarette campaign, as evidenced by the otherwise redundant quotation marks in the word balloon. That’s a sophisticated, market-savvy reference for the average crocodilian from the Paleoscene
- I think this postcard probably post-dates the famous “WOW! We Alligators Do Have Fun in Florida/Louisiana/New Orleans” Betty Page postcard*** by some years, and I suspect the artist would admit it was derivative, unless an homage
- Nobody REALLY wants to see these poor women bitten by alligators: an American alligator bites at around 2,900 pounds per square inch (lions and tigers bite at about 1,000 psi. I myself bite at only around 175 psi when at the peak of righteous fury & bloodlust)-even small (or cruelly reduced) alligators have more than 80 razor-sharp teeth. Let’s face it: it could be pretty depressing to see some lady get bitten on the rear end by an alligator. But beyond the cheap frisson evoked by the common icon of Woman-in-Peril, these cards sell because the sight of sun-warmed flesh makes the reptilian brain hungry on some primeval level, don’t they? That tells us something about ourselves, doesn’t it? Or is it just plain slapstick, and I should shut up?
Here’s the postcard that haunts my nightmares:
**Variants from interwebs:
***Referent Betty Page postcards:
****Bonus Saucy Wow! Variant:
*****Bonus Alligator-Biting-Butt Card that looks terrifyingly realistic
******Lest you worry, here’s how it all turns out in the sequel:
“Oh Beauregard! Come here, Boy!”
Jefferson B.S.3, from Alabama, has an impressively loathsome record of legislation . But why bother listening to me about him, when you can hear what Coretta Scott King said about him the last time someone attempted to appoint this cracker: Read PDF below.