Family Hour

Joke #1 - "Honey, there was some stuff that happened at the office today, and, umm... well, you always liked Mexico, right?"

Joke #2 - "Let me know when you're done crocheting the crossword. Oh, hey... could you put in fewer questions about the middle East tonight?"

Joke #3 - "Oh, Judy, I'll be ever so glad when your other father comes back from the shop. This loaner model squeaks when we... uh... 'hug'".

Joke #4 - "Mom, Dad... I've decided to give myself up for adoption. Don't worry. It's nothing you did."

Joke #5 - "Honey, guess what? I got a raise today and I think we can afford it. So, I've decided to grow a second moustache!"

Joke #6 - "Thanks for being so good about my shadow coming to dinner on such short notice, dear. He says our souls were delicious..."

Joke #7 - They all went silent. Judy was still laughing at mother's story about the funny dog she saw, but she knew it was time to be quiet. The clock ticked. Margaret held her breath. Where had she written down the priest's number? She knew by the look on David's face that he was about to have an emotion.

Joke #8 - "My knitting's almost done! Judy, be a dear and step into the other room while your father tries on his new thong."

Joke #9 - "Mom, Dad... We're doing okay, right? ...because Dad got a raise today, right? Well, I've been thinking of having a second dolly. There's an awfully nice boy at school who wants to be the father."

Joke #10 - Margaret put down her crochet and sighed. He "didn't give a damn" about the roast beef. He "didn't give a damn" about the neighbor's dog, or hosting bridge night. It was still within the thirty day trial period. Maybe she'd send back her Clark Gabletron and exchange him for the Buster Keatontron? The sex would surely be better, for one thing.

Joke #11 Submitted by Fil, who is not to be confused with our founder, although he may very well be GO!Mother and little Katie were still able to put on a fake smile whenever the late Alan Hale Jr's shadow would, once again, begin to ramble on about "little buddy" this and "dooop!" that. Father's feigned interest was getting less believable every time.

[Commenter jokes will be added to the post.    -Mgmt.]


Lucien Lelong's "Indiscrete" - Randall and me.

Here's an eye-opener. In otherwise-buttoned down 1947, the surprisingly straight Lucien Lelong released a perfume titled "Indiscrete". That's a little on the nose, don't you think?
I mean, sure, perfumes are an industry built on the fantasy of passion and irresistible sexual something or other. Surely some women of the era concealed secret dreams of promiscuity. But "Indiscrete"? Wowzers!

You know what's the definition of "indiscrete"? Being a closet hussy who buys a bottle of perfume with the word "indiscrete" written on it. The bottle is shaped a little like a dress or skirt, and the detail at the bottom of the bottle is more than a little vaginal. Well, say what you want about old Lucien, but he can't be accused of sending mixed messages. I'd be interested to see the bottle that Lucien's cologne (you know, for men) comes in.

Other evocative new scents available from Lucien Lelong...

-Randomly Chosen
-Barely Selective
-Not At All Careful
-Open For Business

*Ring ring*

Editor's desk. This better be good.
Oh hi, Randall. What's the good word in the Research and Googling department this morning? Yeah. The perfume post. Good stuff, eh? "Open for business", hah! Good, I tells ya. I'm on fire, baby. Never been funnier. Anyway, what can I do for you?

Yeah. It' was called "Indiscrete". Can you believe it? Leave it to the French!  In 1947, no less! Pretty racy!
I- wha? The hell you say. No...
Of course I know what "Indiscrete" means. Kinda careless and like a floozy. You know, "lacking discretion". What am I, some kinda dope or somethin?
Get the eff oh.
Fine, I'm looking it up. Clickety clicking as we speak.
Well son of a.
"Indivisible or not divided into parts." "Often confused with 'indiscreet'". God dammit.
Well, hell, man! That's a perfectly serviceable name for a perfume. You know, "inseperable" and romantic crap like that! That's not funny at all! What the eff am I gonna do? I got all these great jokes written and they just turned to bupkis! I got no post! I'm stuffed, Randall! I'm gonna look like a chump!
We're gonna lose sponsors! When we get some, I mean.
Oh, I suppose you knew the difference between "indiscrete" and "indiscreet" all along, mister U of I? Did you learn all that vocabulary while you were wearing the husky costume for nearly half a season's worth of away games? Yeah, go and shut up. If you already knew, then why'd you have to look it up, too?
No, YOUR ma!
Look, maybe we can assume that most people don't know those are two different words. I mean, we didn't, so why would anybody else? Oh shut up, you did not. Poser.
Oh, listen to you: "We mustn't rely for the ignorance of our readers. It is our goal to inform and educate..." Just listen to you. Frikkin' wanker. Wrap yourself in editorial integrity all of a sudden, your majesty. Your carriage is ready.
Too bad. The post runs as-is. My decision. Not yours. Eff you.
Nobody's gonna know the difference, so quit whining. I have half a mind to fire you. Promote your assistant into your position so I can fire you. I'm absolutely gonna fire you. Stop talking. STOP TALKING!
Oh wouldn't I?
Go and research something, mister integrity. You didn't know what "indiscrete" meant either so shut the hell up. Get to work so I can fire you.


Trade School Sonnets - HOD60 Precision Machine vise

HOD60 Precision Machine Vise, I know your heart
and my sight is clear.

Though your grip is legend
your heart is like unto breaking.
For, though your love is that
which moves you to hold
with fierce might,
there needs be tenderness,
or you may lose she who you most cherish.
Though your jaws are flame-hardened,
did that flame warm your soul
so you may treasure without hurt,
embrace without anguish?
Dear HOD60 Precision Machine Vise,
my heart knows your heart,
which is shaken by fear
of losing.
Fear not, handsome vise!
In the gentleness of a tender embrace
do you fix her heart to yours.
And that is the mystery of might.
So, turn your handle,
which is indexed for parts.0001 inch or less.
Turn your handle and loose
your clamping surface.
For in that tender snare
can she ne'er flee.
She will be yours.

You are available with a swivel base. Add $45.


Lee Westerner - King of the mild frontier.

It's easy to view the fifties with super rose-colored glasses. The late fifties, even more so. There was still a nice blend of fifties squareness with sixties craziness seeping in around the edges. It's easy to get the idea that everything was cool looking and wildly futuristic. Then there's this: the western trend.

"Demand is terrific!" I think that's more of a wish than a statement., as in "Demand is a terrific thing to have!" Just like wearing a "Life of the party" hat or an "I'm hilarious" t-shirt. If it were true, you wouldn't need to tell everyone.

Burbling up from the pre-teen end of pop culture thanks to the popularity of Davey Crocket and stuff like that, there was a "trickle up" effect that had suburban teens and possibly adults dressing kind of cowboyishly. Even if you've never seen a steer and can't tie a knot, you could dress like a hard-workin', ruff 'n tumble, injun-shootin' cowboy and get in on the trend of ethnocentric entertainment.

Lee made it easy for visually illiterate men to match their clothes. What matches your beige denim trousers? Your beige denim jacket! Garanimals wouldn't be invented for another twenty years or whatever, and no self-respectin' cowboy gives a hoot about understanding the rudiments of color theory. That's fer girls!  So, identically colored denim is the very thing for a young man struggling to find his role in a still-conservative-for-now late fifties Eisenhower administration. Hyper-butch head to toe denim, the great outdoors and a cartoonish image of ruggedness are what make a man. Apart from the advent of Garanimals, know what else will happen in twenty years or so? Hyper-masculine personal imagery will come to embody a very different subculture than it does in '58.

This scrappy high school junior is listening to records with his best gal... or, at least he was a second ago. His work is done here, and now it's time for him to take his record and spread the word about Cliff Richard to every town on the prairie, one sophomore at a time. Thanks, Denim Man, for bringing Cliff to the people and teaching us about being a man. And thanks for being so non-threateningly rugged in your beige Lee-sure suit.

Let bigger = click.


Little Ads - Opportunities for the enterprising enterpriser.

Disclaimer: all fees for carpet cleaning will be paid in cartoon money, negotiable in Toon Town. Also, flesh-women may or may not not stare lovingly at your cartoon money. Trainees are advised to beware the advances of opportunistic flesh-women, and to favor companionship of sensible, trustworthy toon women.

In the fall of 1939, Rice Farm was raided by the Melrose Vice Squad. Howard Street's largest bird porn ring was broken up, and the proprietors of Rice Farm were indicted on counts of bestiality, sexual slavery, and being friggin' weird.

Students will be given a carburetor as "training camera" at no extra charge.

John made $42.50 in one day in his NEW Business, and is also a pair of identical women.


Heublein Cocktails - So glad you could join our little party.

This ad is very confusing. What's with the strange picture?
Click for slightly larger.
The idea for the product seems interesting to me - pre-mixed cocktails in a bottle. I'd be more likely to try those fancy mixed drinks if I didn't have to know how to make them. I can't make wine or beer, but I'm not expected to perform the final assembly on those before enjoying them. Why do cocktails enjoy the DIY status? Is it that everybody likes theirs mixed a little differently? If everybody made their own beer, you could say the same thing.

I always just pick up a bottle of wine or a twelve pack of Stella and call it a day, so I'll leave it to the more experienced drinks mixers to educate me in the comments. The question being "Why didn't this catch on?" Please enlighten.

Anyway, back to the bizarre choice of photo. Why is the guy's wife a secret? He looks like he's kissing her on the head, assuming there's a human back there.

Is he married to Lord Voldermort? Or maybe a Bond villain?

I've seen this scene before. The audience and I have entered the room, maybe holding a Walther PPK, leveled from the hip, of course. Husband Man is doting on the figure in the chair, obscured by the camera angle. He hands one of the drinks to the unseen person, and then calmly turns his head to look at us, because we totally haven't surprised him. They both knew we were there the whole time. Chilling.

Time to say something clever like...

"I prefer mine with vermouth, but thanksh anyway.*"
"Happy hour's over, Gingrich. Time to go down town."
"Hey! pre-mixed drinks! Neat! Why didn't these ever catch on?"
"I should be shooting you a bunch, instead of talking."
"Bryce! I had no idea! How long has this been going on?"
"Happy hour's over, Saruman. On your bike. Let's go."

Then the unseen sitter says something understated and lethal like...

"Nagini, KILL!"
"Mister Largo. At last, we meet. A drink before parting?"
"Fred MacMurray, KILL!"
"Prepare to get shot in the face... by the power of Isengard!"
"Ah, Mister Largo. So good of you to come, but I'm afraid you're too late. The Huge Frikkin Laser is already targeted and the controls are locked out. Say good bye to your precious LegoLand. Prepare to be made dead."

Then there's some kind of scuffle, frackas or bru-ha-ha and I save the day. Or I'm captured and rescued by Sophie Marceau in a shiny silver bikini, who has decided to switch sides at the last moment because she super wants me and we do it in an inflatable Zodiac while a model of the secret base explodes all over the place a little ways off, which would also be good.

*indicates simulated Connery


Frontiers of the Advancement of Science's Frontiers

New science stuff today, sent in from our 1957 bureau, stationed in the Eisenhower era. The '57 bureau chief requested we send them a decent television. Sorry, guys, it's against policy. It could upset the flow of history. I'm sure you understand.

Meanwhile, get ready to science up, readers!

With the initial popularity of the Lord of the Rings books, Collins Publishing produced the Porta-Palantir, which allowed lucky owners to easily communicate with Sauron while on the go. The handheld device was powered by Brylcreem.
Michelin announced a breakthrough, by finding a use for post-consumer tires as road material. Minimal processing requirements keep costs and prep time low. Michelin representatives then trumpeted the introduction of new enormous tires compatible with the new tire-based road surfaces, after which they spent several minutes reassuring reporters that they were serious.

RCA records has recalled their entire library of  "Omni-Vox" extra-loud records for the blind. The marketing team at RCA has been sacked, even though executives admit is was "a little funny".

Private "Man Detector" inventor has met with difficulties in testing his invention, as the device also seems to detect women, children, dogs, tables, trees, donuts, staplers, and the Earth itself. The inventor has defended the science behind his device by insisting that "It's a very masculine world we live in".


Mr. Headlights - Safety first.

Joke #1 - "Okay, I am now in position. If someone will gently drive the car forward, this cylindrical drill will extract a perfect core sample of my torso. I think you'll all agree that this will advance science."

Joke #2 - Ken's newest set of lights would require additional power, but that was okay. He had some room in the battery trailer to squeeze in a few more batteries."

Joke #3 - "We can leave in a minute, honey. Oh, hey, can you hand me the rest of the lights?"

Joke #4 - "And because he chose to put the watermark over in this corner of the picture, you could, if you wanted to, easily crop it out and use this picture for anything you like."

Joke #5 - Then Ken realized that the lights under the bumper could be much bigger. All he had to do was modify the suspension, making the car ride several inches higher. His wife would notice that, though. Hmm. He'd better go and make all her shoes taller.

Joke #6 - "... and Oliver has run himself over! What a great twit!"

Joke #7 - Ken's newest set of lights would require a little more power, but that was okay. The larger alternator could fit in the front seat. He could put a hat on it and drive in the carpool lane.

Joke #7 - "Now, I'm going to just lie here and wire up the new air horn. Whatever you do, don't start the car, which, I might add, has the keys in the ignition, and press the center of the steering wheel. Also, you mustn't put the car in drive. You absolutely must not do either of those things right now. I'm not kidding. ...or turn on the lights. You also mustn't do that either. Whatever you do, you truly must not do any of those things I just said.... even a tiny bit."

Joke #7.5 - "If I hear one more joke about 'why not just get new glasses or drive in the daytime', I swear I will come right over there and, well, don't make me come over there."

Jokes #8 and 9 came in quickly from Fil. BAM and BAM! Thanks, Fil!

Joke #8 - "Stop mocking me, sun!"

Joke #9 - Bodies were strewn across the highway, each bearing its own blood-soaked parka. Twisted, metallic heaps, once Vespas, dotted the roadway. As Merle worked frantically to remove their telltale headlights which now freckled his own vehicle, he could hear someone, or something, approaching. He stopped to calculate the time remaining before the entity reached him. He knew all hope was lost as he could just make out the opening aria to the soundtrack for 'Quadrophenia'.

Joke #10 is a very auto-savvy entry from Jim Dillon. Thanks Jim! - It's like I said last month, Mrs. Filson. Once you start picking these things off, you gotta keep on top of them or they'll get away from you. On a Nash like this, the only other way is a complete front-end transplant.

Jokey help from Brain Thought for #11. Thanks Brain! - I made a Back To The Future reference last time, but what the hey, it works better this time:"No, no, no this suckers electrical! But I need a nuclear reaction to generate the 1.21 jigowatts for the high-beams..."

'Nother Brain Thought thought for our bright car. Thanks Brain! #12 - This guy is the reason there's laws against this sort of thing now.

Brain Thought could not stop if he wanted to. Take THAT, old picture! #13 - You wait and see Dave, you just wait! You laughed at me with all the headlights and now we see how well that works. Well, when I get this external turbocharger installed...well, you just wait and see!

Joke #14 comes to us from John Josef stationed in a terrifying future world of mechanical predators. Thanks, John! And remember they mostly come out at night, mostly. - Hank's giant internal combustion spider was complete. Now to find some little hybrids to feed it...

Joke #15 is from Fil, who cann't stop pummeling this old defenseless photograph. Well pummeled, Fil! - "Pull my finger."

Joke #16 is a mysterious offering from an unnamed commenter who wishes to remain nameless, but I think it's our old friend Anonymous! - "If one more person laughs when I say 'petcock'..."

Good thing he didn't say "ball valve" -ed.
[Commenter jokes will be added to the post.    -Mgmt.]

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Roach Designs Iron-On Transfers - The road to coolness, stage 2.

Today's ad is another gem found in Whitman Comics that will help me become one of the cool kids, and inevitably be invited to sit in the back of the bus. Instead of selling me posters to enradden my groovatorium, today's ad is an opportunity to cool up one of my numerous blank undershirts, which offer no hipness in their natural state. Back in The Seventies, you could buy iron-on transfers, which could be (duh) ironed onto a t-shirt or, as is also recommended in the ad copy, a pillowcase.
These iron-ons were printed on thick vinyl, sometimes with sparkles cast right into the plastic. After twenty or so trips through the washer, the printing would often go away, leaving you with a strange silver blob on your shirt in the shape of your former bad-ass graphic. Also, they didn't breathe at all. If you took off the shirt and looked in the mirror, you could see a pink sweaty spot on your chest in the exact shape of the design. This was handy if you wanted to trace it in felt tip marker onto your skin. Mom would love that. So, the un-breathability of these things makes the idea of sleeping on a pillow with one of these graphics applied to it sounds super comfy, don't you think?

Anyway, homeroom is almost over and I haven't even chosen my super bad design yet. I need to get to work. The state of bargain-priced comic printing in 1976 was such that the little thumbnails in the ad were a challenge to make out. You can almost read some of them if you blur your eyes, like you would for a magic-eye print. This is gonna take a lot of squinting.

Design 5015 - This is clearly a design celebrating Chancellor Weslejijele, from Alexandre Dumas classic The Count of Monte Cristo. Weslejijele was the man who provided the official seal on the letter that Baron Danglars used to have Edmond Dantes falsely convicted of being a secret Bonapartist, and sentenced to life in the Chateau d'If. Treacherous and corrupt, he was a badass of the gilded age. A shirt like this will not only get me beat up by the back-of-the-bus kids, but also extra credit in Literature. No way.

Design 5006 - It's, uuh... I don't know what this is. While I do admire ambiguity, the cool kids will not like me "messing with their heads". Result: ass-kicking. No way, man.

Design 5022 - With the help of self-imposed blur-o-vision, I can just make out the shape of a guy on what looks like a ten-speed bike. It could be something to do with the Tour de France. The movie Breaking Away wouldn't make road cycling cool for another three years, and everybody knew that BMX was The Shit in '76. Also, the sissy rainbow is just begging to be punched. Veto!

Design 5049 - While I do understand the humor in ducking down and shouting "Hey! Balloons!" when there are none about, the cool kids would never get a Python reference that obscure. All they know is that goddam "spam" bit. So they'd just assume I really liked balloons... and getting punched in the nuts. Negative!

Design 5052 - Pepsi logo in a puddle of black with a plastic picnic knife stuck in it. Again with the compelling ambiguity. Again with the "stop messing with our heads". Again with the GTFO.

Design 5051 - Pretend lady tie. Hmm. This will show the cool kids that I'm a hit with the girls, but also that I'm professional, and have some disposable income. I think this may be just the ticket. Kids want to be nice to you when they think you may some day own the factory they'll inevitably work at. I have found my super cool t-shirt design! Who do I have to thank for this? Who am I sending my money to?

Gandalf again! I should have guessed. The border around the whole ad looks just like his staff. I look to the East on the dawn of the fifth day and Gandalf comes to me in my hour of lameness to bring me a super-cool t-shirt iron-on transfer! Thanks, G!

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Murine & Vitalis - Before and after.

I hope you're sitting down, dear readers. Or at least, I hope you're leaning against a load-bearing wall. Brace yourselves. STANDARDS OF BEAUTY CHANGE OVER TIME! I know. It makes you want to run straight off and punch an old person, but don't do that. You need to at least wait till he or she complains that all cars look alike nowadays.
Vitalis was The Shit in the fifties. The Wet Look was in. The trick was to get the wet look without putting slime in your hair. Now, I've never tried Vitalis, but I'm curious what the stuff feels like. By the time I was aware that hair could look bad, there were already loads of space-waxes available in ten ounce tubes at the store. Vitalis was already "dad stuff" when I hit the hair product scene.

Anyway, see the guy in the top picture? Look at his hair. What a loser. His hair won't be cool for forty years. If he were in the year 2000, the marlin would be all over him, wanting his caviar, or whatever. But here in 1957, he's so square, he has to wrestle that marlin onto the boat. He's trying to give the fish's nose a hand job and the fish only wants to stab him in the brain. Poor jerk can't even get any play from a fish. If he had Vitalis in his hair, he could be giving a woman's nose a hand job on his boat!

See? In the bottom picture, he's all Vitalised up, and an actual human woman is presenting her nose for some serious hand jobbing. He's just about to begin the nasal handy as the shutter clicked. Jump to 2000 again, and she'd be pepperspraying his nose-holes, what with that grampa hair he's got.

Okay, shuttle back to 1941 for this Murine ad. before we had right-wing true believer Ben Stein to show us what eyes should look like, we had to settle for women's eyes, as seen in this Murine ad.

It's another before/after good/bad comparison. Trouble is, I don't see the problem with the top set of eyes. Now, to be fair, I don't think this is a generational thing. It's not like a man in 1941 would look at them and go "eew". I think it's just a lame choice of pictures. Those eyes could look a lot worse.

The bottom set of eyes say "Don't you think it's about time you clean up your room?" Those could be your mom's eyes, which is fine, of course. However, the top eyes don't look like mom eyes. The top eyes say "How about we mess up your room?".

Messy, please! Hold the Murine.

Click for a big handy.

Click for big bedroom eyes.

UPDATE: Other erotic 'jobs that sound better than they are.

-Ear toejob
-Testicle kneejob
-Framing hammer spinejob
-Ear, nose, and throat job
-Carrot Top job


Anacin - Head grenade.

One of the best TV shows that never got enough airplay was The Tick, with Patrick Warburton in the title role. The Tick once had a headache, and described it thusly: "It feels like my head is gonna have a baby!!!", and later on he told Arthur to stop mentioning the villain because "it makes the brain baby kick". Fox never aired The Tick in the same time slot twice and then, naturally, canceled the show because "it didn't have enough of an audience". I wonder why. It's hard for a show to gather a following if it teleports randomly around the schedule with no advance warning. If you have a debilitating brain injury, you can have a bright future in Fox TV management. Your interview will be on the third floor of Fox HQ, then moved to the ninth floor without anyone telling you. You will then be criticized for tardiness.

Anyway, Anacin wanted to help you with your headache in 1958, and they were not above a little photo retouching to make their point.

However, Anacin was above delicacy and skill when it came to art. They hired a perfectly normal model, asked him to squint, and then painted in facial creases that defy all knowledge of physiology. That's one hell of a headache.

Well, maybe I'm being a little harsh. This ad printed at about three inches high and subtlety just doesn't read through a halftone pattern at that scale. Also, they didn't have digital technology to help them paint at microscopic scale. But I do! Let me help! As anyone on the internet can tell you, access to a copy of Photoshop qualifies you to use that copy of Photoshop and call yourself an artist!

Let's go in for a closer look at the situation. Hmm. There's work to be done here. That diagonal crease over the man's left eyebrow is pretty good, but some of the other lines unfortunately still make sense with our understanding of the human facial structure. Let's get to work!

Hmm. This is better, but all I've really done is darken the crevices that were already there. It's okay to start slow. I'm just warming up to the task. Let's see what other magic I can work.

He's looking pretty anguished now. All of his existing facial folds have been deepened to geological proportions, and I've added new fissures along fault lines that were never there before. This is better, but why stop at mere "improvement" when I can go for the gold?

Yes! That brain baby's kickin'! This ad is going to move a LOT of pills! I'm giving myself a raise! You're welcome, Anacin 1958!

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English Electric - 'Streuth!

It's been a while since we had a report from our 1952 London bureau, so... Utility update now, from our bureau in 1952 London! English Electric, bringing you better living, through not whacking your head on a kipper in the dark.
Here in Chicago, we've been conditioned to assume that, if ComEd is running ads telling us how nice it is to have electricity, they must be jacking up the rates, or deflecting another round of complaints from the Citizens Utility Board. Either way, a non-specific ad from ComEd feels like a thinly veiled threat to cut off the juice if we don't stop questioning them. I can't wait 'till Google figures out a way to provide some competition in the utilities marketplace.

Anyway, here's English Electric pointing out how nice it is to have the lights on. Fair enough. A little over ten years previous, the English were using their electricity to spot German bombers, so I don't imagine there was too much complaint about electric bills in'52. I don't even know how the English pay for their electricity. Direct from the consumer? Paid from the tax revenue? There's no way to find out, so don't even wonder.

Nice artwork in this ad, though. One signature is pretty clear: Clixby Watson. I know... "Who???". It took some experimental searching before I figured out his first name. Charles "Clixby" Watson (1906-1964) was a prolific commercial illustrator who worked in pretty much all media. He did the bottom painting of the people in the street. I can't imagine what he could do to look more English in that photo.

The signature on the top painting is way harder to read.
think it's Kenneth McDonough, an artist who seems to have done mostly paintings of air combat. His era is right for this ad, and the style doesn't look very different. It's possible I got the name totally wrong, though. Anyone? Anyone?

Anyway again, below are both paintings from today's ad, reproduced for you in gorgeous 2,000 pixel width. The top one looks about right for use as a wallpaper on my smartyphone. It doesn't have a focal point or anything, which to me says "phone wallpaper". The bottom one is a squeaky-clean ethnocentric picture of imaginary London life, and is less appealing to me. People always muck up a painting by being in it.

Get your rude finger ready to right click these little slices of Anglocana onto your hard drive in three, two, one...
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