||[Dec. 10th, 2008|11:12 pm]
The moon is getting close to full again. Two more nights. This will be the last full moon of the year. I might get to see it, since the clouds that are due probably won't cover the whole sky Friday. By Saturday, rain is likely, and on Sunday and Monday the nocturnal temperature will drop low enough to make snow possible. We'll have to stock up on stuff, in case the roads get dangerous. And I do hope the power doesn't fail. Don't want to freeze in the dark before the year is even over. And if it does snow, it will be just in time to bury and freeze the mulberry leaves that are beginning to drop in large numbers. Then after they thaw they'll be all slimy and gross when I have to rake them. Ech. It would be best if the snow would hold off until January. |
Is it just me, or is there some serious vintage innuendo in these ads I stumbled on at Flickr?:
Who can resist the superb, nutty flavor of Dry Sack?
Shiny wood, smoke, pretzels? Miller makes it right? (Dude! You're wearing a wedding ring!)
Anticipating something tasty thanks to Bud!
Ah, love the 1950s!
Those ads remind me of 50s Playboy. My father had a small collection he used to allow me access to, to make sure I turned out "right". The ads for Borkum Riff pipe tobacco really turned me on!
My dad, too, had a stash of magazines I had access to, but they weren't Playboy. He had upward of a hundred issues of Railroad Magazine
. That magazine's most memorable ads were those for the Charles Atlas
body building course.
The Charles Atlas cartoon strip ads told me that if I allowed myself to be a 97 pound weakling, the beach bully would knock me down and kick sand in my face and embarrass my girlfriend, but if I took the Charles Atlas body building course (Dynamic Tension!), I would develop a perfect body and could punch the bully and have girls clinging to my huge arm and admiring me.
I never took his course, but eventually discovered that the muscled guys at the beach were far more likely to be posing for each other than harassing random skinny guys, anyway. To this day, I've still never had a muscular beach bully take any notice of me at all.