Phonegarden. Lamest band to come out of Seattle in The Nineties.
Hey, citizens of the timestreams! Couldn't you use a big friendly "hello" from Easter in 1960 right now? No? Great! To get you ready for Pointy Tree Day Season, here's a big juicy "hell-frikkin-o" from Easter in 1960, and Easter says you should have as many phones as you have rooms in your house!
|"Pick all the phones you want, human,|
it will not save you. Sssssssss."
Knowing this, you can guess there's no way an eight-year-old girl is holding up a basket (gripping it way way off center) with a telephone in it, with one hand, nowhere near her center of gravity.
Just in case you're not old enough to have ever used one of these phones, I should explain that you didn't actually buy your telephone. Bell owned all the phones, and their customers leased them on a monthly billing cycle. So, of course Bell wanted you to know how many pastel colors were available. They also wanted you to understand everywhere you absolutely needed to talk on the phone, just in case you were too slow to understand the word "everywhere". So, they kindly provided these serving suggestions, clearly labeled with room names, just in case you have a finger-thick segment of rebar bisecting your brain (making you the ideal audience from the perspective of every ad man ever born).
Bedroom phone: A useful plot device for those
late-night "there's been an accident down at the mill"
calls. Also for those nervous "No, that wasn't your
father and I. That was just the radio." calls.
Kitchen phone: So your husband can tell the salad
he'll be home soon.
where you keep all the candlesticks, rope, pipes,
revolvers, and poison.
Teen room phone: Not actually connected, so your
carefully stored teen cannot call President Faceless
Kennedy or Little orphan Faceless Annie for help.
Family room phone: So you can call the guy at the
TV shop to ask why Andy Griffith is upside down.
Also, to tell your teen's parents it will now be $10,503
because you need to get your TV fixed.
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