Showing posts with label 1973. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1973. Show all posts
1/10/20
12/14/18
2/13/18
2/12/18
2/6/18
7/4/17
White's Pit Stop - Rod & Custom, 1973
The staff here at GO! Tower have been having a great time flipping through a recent shipment of old magazines, including some very groovy hot rod magazines from The Early Seventies. This ad for White's Pit Stop features a terrific ink drawing that is very typical of the hot rod scene of that time.
At the time this ad ran, in April '73, White's was located in South Holland, Illinois. I wonder what's there now.
Hmm. Looks like White's was bought out by a shed and some recycling dumpsters. That's a bummer for the hot rod set. No, wait! According to the Ultranet, White's is still around. They just moved to Schererville, Indiana! They have a FaceTube page and everything! Pretty cool!
The drawing in this old ad is so nice, it'd be great if some hero would make a shirt out of that rodded-out truck, right? It would look the most authentically vintage in a single color, like an independent gearhead shop would have done back in 1973. Nothing too fancy. Can do!
Incidentally, if you're from White's Pit Stop and you're just finding this post, I hope you don't mind us using this ancient ad to give you some free advertising.
You can get the print in black or white on any shirt in any color you want. It may look best on a ringer shirt or something retro like that.
Black version:
White version:
Sample images:
5/25/16
Love & Romance Comics, Nov. 1973 - "Not His Type".
The Phil Are GO! Rummage Sale and Antique Store Assault Squad returned from a mission over the weekend, having suffered the loss of half their team, but it was worth it. Those brave grenadiers will not have died in vain, because we can now bring you this sizzling hot issue of Love & Fucking People Over Love & Romance from 1973. There are three smoking tepid stories in this comic, but just like always, they put the burning moist cover story way in the back, to make sure you read the whole thing.
It's the positively throbbing story of a young Tommy James on a doctor-ordered solo vacation in Hawaii, without any of The Shondells to cramp his style. Sure, he's under the assumed name of Jonathan Dolman, a mild-mannered accountant whose whole life seemed to be planned out for him. He was the perfect target for a brazen hussy and her partially weaponized black bikini! What mayhap? Don't not read this flaming limp tale of infidelity and secretly being Tommy James! We now present for you the entire seven-page account of one milquetoast undercover Tommy James, and temptress Gina Shaw's diabolical plot to milk his toast! Read - Yes, read! - with your very own eyeballs "Not His Type"!
So there you have it. The lesson is this: If you're an undercover Tommy James who flies to Hawaii with the sole purpose of writing postcards while wearing a ski sweater, you will definitely have a determined, horny blonde climb into your pants, forcing you to dump your girlfriend over the phone. And thereby will you find lasting happiness, and you will definitely not instantly leave that woman for the next woman who shows you her bikini.
The other lesson is that if you're a determined, horny blonde and you wear a swimsuit, the most mild-mannered Tommy James will absolutely betray his girlfriend to nail you. Also, you will be happy forever, because he will never dump you just because a different woman puts on a bathing suit. Ever.
This comic book is rich incopyrighted useful graphics! Please enjoy these 1000 px square avatars of Tommy and Gina, for use in whatever chat forum service application board you kids tend to use these days. You're welcome!
Also enjoy the prancing lady who may or may not be fleeing from a giant heart. You're still welcome!
It's the positively throbbing story of a young Tommy James on a doctor-ordered solo vacation in Hawaii, without any of The Shondells to cramp his style. Sure, he's under the assumed name of Jonathan Dolman, a mild-mannered accountant whose whole life seemed to be planned out for him. He was the perfect target for a brazen hussy and her partially weaponized black bikini! What mayhap? Don't not read this flaming limp tale of infidelity and secretly being Tommy James! We now present for you the entire seven-page account of one milquetoast undercover Tommy James, and temptress Gina Shaw's diabolical plot to milk his toast! Read - Yes, read! - with your very own eyeballs "Not His Type"!
[Plot analysis and Graphic Gifts posted after the comic.]
 |
| Cleverly disguised! Could this scorchingly turgid story be the inspiration for Tommy's much-covered-by-wedding-bands hit "Mony Mony"? |
So there you have it. The lesson is this: If you're an undercover Tommy James who flies to Hawaii with the sole purpose of writing postcards while wearing a ski sweater, you will definitely have a determined, horny blonde climb into your pants, forcing you to dump your girlfriend over the phone. And thereby will you find lasting happiness, and you will definitely not instantly leave that woman for the next woman who shows you her bikini.
The other lesson is that if you're a determined, horny blonde and you wear a swimsuit, the most mild-mannered Tommy James will absolutely betray his girlfriend to nail you. Also, you will be happy forever, because he will never dump you just because a different woman puts on a bathing suit. Ever.
This comic book is rich in
Also enjoy the prancing lady who may or may not be fleeing from a giant heart. You're still welcome!
 |
| Click for 1000 px. |
 |
| Click for 1000 px. |
 |
| Click for 1200 px. |
2/17/16
Shake and Bake - Formula euuh, and your new online advocate is here.
This Shake'n Bake ad has little to recommend it. Yeah, it's from 1973, so, silly clothes, but just barely silly. So why's it here? Two things. Ricky Bobby and your new avatar. Let's giddyup.
Talladega Nights is pretty okay. It's no Anchorman, but nothing is. In the movie, for a reason that the characters are unable to explain, Ricky Bobby and his teammate Cal Naughton, Jr. use the catchphrase "Shake and Bake!!!" as if it's meant to intimidate their opponents. So, that's why this ad reminds me of that movie.
As always, Sasha Baron Cohen steals every scene as the villainous French formula 1 driver, Jean Gerard. Here is his line that, for me, is the biggest laugh of the movie, which is delivered by Cohen with flawless, absolute commitment. Any excuse to watch this scene is all the excuse you need., and today it's chicken from 1973. When this movie pops up on TV, I watch until Gerard says this line, and then the show's over, as far as I'm concerned.
So anyway, the other thing we need from this ad is the chicken leg kid. He's not looking at his parents. he's staring at the basket of crispy golden brown Shake'n Bake. He looks like the production manager tried to teach him how to smile earlier that afternoon. Also, his shirt (shirts?) is (are?) frikkin' weird.
He'd make a really good profile picture or avatar for whatever forum or on-the-lines chitchat application you use, except that when we crop him square, which all online thingamabobs appreciate, his chicken leg is out of frame. This is child's play for the Phil Are GO! Graphic Blandishment and Photoshoppery Brigade. Get in here, you clowns!
Here is Monsieur Shake et Bake, in crispy JPG et PNG file formats, so your site's backend has no excuse to refuse the image. You're welcome!
As always, Sasha Baron Cohen steals every scene as the villainous French formula 1 driver, Jean Gerard. Here is his line that, for me, is the biggest laugh of the movie, which is delivered by Cohen with flawless, absolute commitment. Any excuse to watch this scene is all the excuse you need., and today it's chicken from 1973. When this movie pops up on TV, I watch until Gerard says this line, and then the show's over, as far as I'm concerned.
"My name is jean Gerard, and I am a racing car driver just like you, except I am from formula euuh. I am zuh greatest one in zuh whole world. I have been following your career with great interest, monsieur Buubie."
So anyway, the other thing we need from this ad is the chicken leg kid. He's not looking at his parents. he's staring at the basket of crispy golden brown Shake'n Bake. He looks like the production manager tried to teach him how to smile earlier that afternoon. Also, his shirt (shirts?) is (are?) frikkin' weird.
He'd make a really good profile picture or avatar for whatever forum or on-the-lines chitchat application you use, except that when we crop him square, which all online thingamabobs appreciate, his chicken leg is out of frame. This is child's play for the Phil Are GO! Graphic Blandishment and Photoshoppery Brigade. Get in here, you clowns!
Here is Monsieur Shake et Bake, in crispy JPG et PNG file formats, so your site's backend has no excuse to refuse the image. You're welcome!
 |
| Click for 1000px JPG. |
 |
| Click for 1000px PNG. |
 |
| Click for big. |
1/14/16
DIY Decor 1973 - The fab floor.
Is your house an ugly dump? Sure! It's 1973! Who's isn't? Let's get busy de-uglifying and totally fabulizing your pad, man! Do you hip to what the jive is? Of course you all of those things! We had so many great ideas, we had to number them just to keep them in no particular order! Shew! Let's get to hammering!
What are using for a hamper right now? The floor, of course! Here's a way to actually have a hamper without feeling like you're submitting to The Man. Make yourself a groovy jeans pocket hamper and hang it on the door! It holds literally several things before it basically becomes a denim sphere, and that's when you know it's time to do some laundry... if that's your thing! What it is, my man!
Are you tired of being jealous of the Molen Rnomjs that live across the street? Sure! We all do! Those smug Dutch sophisticates! Well, here's their secret: that's just an ordinary front door with monograms and stuff cut out of plywood and glued on! This project is so simple you don't have to wait to come down before starting! And best of all, it's guaranteed not to bring down the property value of all the other houses on the street - ever!
This wallpaper backsplash will last for years and years. The heat and moisture of the stove top will just bounce right off of it and never, ever soften the wallpaper paste holding it up there. Good thing, too, because you'll never want to take it down! Neither will whoever buys your house after you die! This is one groovy idea that will be evergroovy.
Time is money, right? Sure! We all do! Show the world how money your time is by spending several hours of your time dolling up this five dollar lawn chair. Sew this lawn chair cover with directional arrows to help you make a perfect two-cheek landing, even after a few glasses of "zero"... whatever that is! Right on!
Do you have some creepy sort-of-French stuffed dolls that need punishing? Well, give them something to think about with this home made doll stockade. Just cut some perfectly good red acrylic and hinge it with 1" piano hinges on the back. After a few days stuck in this thing, those dolls will think twice, you bet! What did they do to deserve this? Just look at them. They know what they did! Thanks for ratting them out, lion... or maybe bear?
Does your couch just sit there, and never float out from underneath you when you're about to sit down? Enough of that! Hang your couch from the ceiling and start swinging! Live in an apartment? Well, don't let Old Man The Landlord tell you what you can't do to his or her building that isn't your property! You may need to go into the apartment upstairs to add some fender washers to the ends of the lag bolts that poke up through the floor, but you just know they'll understand the importance of swinging. By the way, a couch this wiggly may not be the best for saving sex on, but that's what the front yard is for! Sock it to me!
What are using for a hamper right now? The floor, of course! Here's a way to actually have a hamper without feeling like you're submitting to The Man. Make yourself a groovy jeans pocket hamper and hang it on the door! It holds literally several things before it basically becomes a denim sphere, and that's when you know it's time to do some laundry... if that's your thing! What it is, my man!
Are you tired of being jealous of the Molen Rnomjs that live across the street? Sure! We all do! Those smug Dutch sophisticates! Well, here's their secret: that's just an ordinary front door with monograms and stuff cut out of plywood and glued on! This project is so simple you don't have to wait to come down before starting! And best of all, it's guaranteed not to bring down the property value of all the other houses on the street - ever!
Do you have some creepy sort-of-French stuffed dolls that need punishing? Well, give them something to think about with this home made doll stockade. Just cut some perfectly good red acrylic and hinge it with 1" piano hinges on the back. After a few days stuck in this thing, those dolls will think twice, you bet! What did they do to deserve this? Just look at them. They know what they did! Thanks for ratting them out, lion... or maybe bear?
Does your couch just sit there, and never float out from underneath you when you're about to sit down? Enough of that! Hang your couch from the ceiling and start swinging! Live in an apartment? Well, don't let Old Man The Landlord tell you what you can't do to his or her building that isn't your property! You may need to go into the apartment upstairs to add some fender washers to the ends of the lag bolts that poke up through the floor, but you just know they'll understand the importance of swinging. By the way, a couch this wiggly may not be the best for saving sex on, but that's what the front yard is for! Sock it to me!
4/22/15
An Oak Tree, 1973 - The Tate Modern, London.
Last week, some colleagues and I wound up talking about modern art. I was reminded of an exhibit I saw at the Tate Modern museum in London, way back in 2005, by Michael Craig Martin in 1973. There are those who regard all modern art as a waste of time, but in general I love it. The MCA in Chicago and the LACMA in Los Angeles are full with a lot of brilliant stuff. That said, it really can be a haven for the lazy fraud, desperate to be artsy but lacking any kind of actual ability. In other words, wankers.
"An Oak Tree" is a glass of water on a glass shelf mounted about seven feet above the floor, presumably to prevent museum visitors from spitting in the art, or, god forbid, drinking it. There is a printed caption mounted on the wall, explaining why the glass of water is an oak tree, converted by Martin's Powers Of An Artist. If he's having a joke on the art world, the museum doesn't seem to be in on it. I was given to wonder what art works were turned down in favor of displaying An Oak Tree in what is surely some very expensive London real estate.
It's possible one would argue that this art work, of al the exhibits in the Tate, obviously left the strongest impression on my mind, since I talk about little else I saw there at the Tate. I counter that by pointing out that I remember little from the year I spent in Seventh Grade other than the experience of having my nose broken. This doesn't make it a wonderful thing, nor does it mean that I'm happy with my experience of crunching bone and surprising amounts of blood. Leaving a strong impression is setting the bar pretty low for art. Spending a night in a dumpster would leave a strong impression on a person, but that doesn't make it brilliant work of genius. However, if there were people who would regard sleeping in a dumpster as their art, they would definitely find a welcome home for their work at the Tate. It's true that we're still talking about An Oak Tree over Forty years after it's creation, and some would insist this is a fine testament to it's quality. Please remember that we also talk about the Black Death after all these years, but that hardly qualifies it as an achievement. This is not true of all of the exhibits at the Tate. About ten percent of the stuff there is really interesting and/or exciting.
Here is a photo of An Oak Tree, complete with it's caption, the full transcribed text of which appears below the photo.
Q. To begin with, could you describe this work?
A. Yes, of course. What I've done is change a glass of water into a full-grown oak tree without altering the accidents of the glass of water.
Q. The accidents?
A. Yes. The colour, feel, weight, size ...
Q. Do you mean that the glass of water is a symbol of an oak tree?
A. No. It's not a symbol. I've changed the physical substance of the glass of water into that of an oak tree.
Q. It looks like a glass of water.
A. Of course it does. I didn't change its appearance. But it's not a glass of water, it's an oak tree.
Q. Can you prove what you've claimed to have done?
A. Well, yes and no. I claim to have maintained the physical form of the glass of water and, as you can see, I have. However, as one normally looks for evidence of physical change in terms of altered form, no such proof exists.
Q. Haven't you simply called this glass of water an oak tree?
A. Absolutely not. It is not a glass of water anymore. I have changed its actual substance. It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.
Q. Isn't this just a case of the emperor's new clothes?
A. No. With the emperor's new clothes people claimed to see something that wasn't there because they felt they should. I would be very surprised if anyone told me they saw an oak tree.
Q. Was it difficult to effect the change?
A. No effort at all. But it took me years of work before I realised I could do it.
Q. When precisely did the glass of water become an oak tree?
A. When I put the water in the glass.
Q. Does this happen every time you fill a glass with water?
A. No, of course not. Only when I intend to change it into an oak tree.
Q. Then intention causes the change?
A. I would say it precipitates the change.
Q. You don't know how you do it?
A. It contradicts what I feel I know about cause and effect.
Q. It seems to me that you are claiming to have worked a miracle. Isn't that the case?
A. I'm flattered that you think so.
Q. But aren't you the only person who can do something like this?
A. How could I know?
Q. Could you teach others to do it?
A. No, it's not something one can teach.
Q. Do you consider that changing the glass of water into an oak tree constitutes an art work?
A. Yes.
Q. What precisely is the art work? The glass of water?
A. There is no glass of water anymore.
Q. The process of change?
A. There is no process involved in the change.
Q. The oak tree?
A. Yes. The oak tree.
Q. But the oak tree only exists in the mind.
A. No. The actual oak tree is physically present but in the form of the glass of water. As the glass of water was a particular glass of water, the oak tree is also a particular oak tree. To conceive the category 'oak tree' or to picture a particular oak tree is not to understand and experience what appears to be a glass of water as an oak tree. Just as it is imperceivable it also inconceivable.
Q. Did the particular oak tree exist somewhere else before it took the form of a glass of water?
A. No. This particular oak tree did not exist previously. I should also point out that it does not and will not ever have any other form than that of a glass of water.
Q. How long will it continue to be an oak tree?
A. Until I change it.
Lastly, it seems a strategic mistake for the Tate Modern to place their "donations, please" box at the exit of the museum, as opposed to the entrance. Asking for money after the visitors have seen all the exhibits affords the thinking patron the opportunity to blow a snot rocket into the money slot, and then to shrewdly explain to the angry staff "That's not a lump of snot. That's one hundred pounds. I have converted the snot into money without altering the accidents of the snot rocket. I am a powerful artist. You're welcome."
"An Oak Tree" is a glass of water on a glass shelf mounted about seven feet above the floor, presumably to prevent museum visitors from spitting in the art, or, god forbid, drinking it. There is a printed caption mounted on the wall, explaining why the glass of water is an oak tree, converted by Martin's Powers Of An Artist. If he's having a joke on the art world, the museum doesn't seem to be in on it. I was given to wonder what art works were turned down in favor of displaying An Oak Tree in what is surely some very expensive London real estate.
It's possible one would argue that this art work, of al the exhibits in the Tate, obviously left the strongest impression on my mind, since I talk about little else I saw there at the Tate. I counter that by pointing out that I remember little from the year I spent in Seventh Grade other than the experience of having my nose broken. This doesn't make it a wonderful thing, nor does it mean that I'm happy with my experience of crunching bone and surprising amounts of blood. Leaving a strong impression is setting the bar pretty low for art. Spending a night in a dumpster would leave a strong impression on a person, but that doesn't make it brilliant work of genius. However, if there were people who would regard sleeping in a dumpster as their art, they would definitely find a welcome home for their work at the Tate. It's true that we're still talking about An Oak Tree over Forty years after it's creation, and some would insist this is a fine testament to it's quality. Please remember that we also talk about the Black Death after all these years, but that hardly qualifies it as an achievement. This is not true of all of the exhibits at the Tate. About ten percent of the stuff there is really interesting and/or exciting.
Here is a photo of An Oak Tree, complete with it's caption, the full transcribed text of which appears below the photo.
 |
| "Oak tree". Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Wikipedia. |
[Begin artist's text.]
Q. To begin with, could you describe this work?
A. Yes, of course. What I've done is change a glass of water into a full-grown oak tree without altering the accidents of the glass of water.
Q. The accidents?
A. Yes. The colour, feel, weight, size ...
Q. Do you mean that the glass of water is a symbol of an oak tree?
A. No. It's not a symbol. I've changed the physical substance of the glass of water into that of an oak tree.
Q. It looks like a glass of water.
A. Of course it does. I didn't change its appearance. But it's not a glass of water, it's an oak tree.
Q. Can you prove what you've claimed to have done?
A. Well, yes and no. I claim to have maintained the physical form of the glass of water and, as you can see, I have. However, as one normally looks for evidence of physical change in terms of altered form, no such proof exists.
Q. Haven't you simply called this glass of water an oak tree?
A. Absolutely not. It is not a glass of water anymore. I have changed its actual substance. It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.
Q. Isn't this just a case of the emperor's new clothes?
A. No. With the emperor's new clothes people claimed to see something that wasn't there because they felt they should. I would be very surprised if anyone told me they saw an oak tree.
Q. Was it difficult to effect the change?
A. No effort at all. But it took me years of work before I realised I could do it.
Q. When precisely did the glass of water become an oak tree?
A. When I put the water in the glass.
Q. Does this happen every time you fill a glass with water?
A. No, of course not. Only when I intend to change it into an oak tree.
Q. Then intention causes the change?
A. I would say it precipitates the change.
Q. You don't know how you do it?
A. It contradicts what I feel I know about cause and effect.
Q. It seems to me that you are claiming to have worked a miracle. Isn't that the case?
A. I'm flattered that you think so.
Q. But aren't you the only person who can do something like this?
A. How could I know?
Q. Could you teach others to do it?
A. No, it's not something one can teach.
Q. Do you consider that changing the glass of water into an oak tree constitutes an art work?
A. Yes.
Q. What precisely is the art work? The glass of water?
A. There is no glass of water anymore.
Q. The process of change?
A. There is no process involved in the change.
Q. The oak tree?
A. Yes. The oak tree.
Q. But the oak tree only exists in the mind.
A. No. The actual oak tree is physically present but in the form of the glass of water. As the glass of water was a particular glass of water, the oak tree is also a particular oak tree. To conceive the category 'oak tree' or to picture a particular oak tree is not to understand and experience what appears to be a glass of water as an oak tree. Just as it is imperceivable it also inconceivable.
Q. Did the particular oak tree exist somewhere else before it took the form of a glass of water?
A. No. This particular oak tree did not exist previously. I should also point out that it does not and will not ever have any other form than that of a glass of water.
Q. How long will it continue to be an oak tree?
A. Until I change it.
[End of artist's text.]
The Wikipedia article on Oak Tree mentions this (below). Gotta love the Australians.
It was once barred by Australian officials from entering the country as "vegetation".[11][12] Craig-Martin was forced to inform them that it was really a glass of water.
Lastly, it seems a strategic mistake for the Tate Modern to place their "donations, please" box at the exit of the museum, as opposed to the entrance. Asking for money after the visitors have seen all the exhibits affords the thinking patron the opportunity to blow a snot rocket into the money slot, and then to shrewdly explain to the angry staff "That's not a lump of snot. That's one hundred pounds. I have converted the snot into money without altering the accidents of the snot rocket. I am a powerful artist. You're welcome."
7/11/12
The Make-Out Jam
Joke #2 - "A modern day warrior, mean mean stride. Today's Tom Sawyer, mean, mean, pri- mmph!"
Joke #3 - "But, Lord Featherstone, how can you play your violin without a bow? Where's your bow? ...OH! Lord Featherstone!"
Joke #4 - None could ever be said to have mastered the instrument known as the "womanophone", but a little over 60% of the human population made fevered attempts throughout history. Possibly the most complicated instrument to play, it involved blowing into the mouthpiece and careful manipulation of the bellows, all while delicately fingering the valves.
Joke #5 - He's got woodwind. Huh huh huh.
John Joseff helps us flesh out today's surprisingly hard-to-write captions list with Joke #6. Thanks, JJ! - The Phaaaaaaaantom of the Opera is heeeeeeere, inside your pants
Joke #6 comes to us from one of our new regulars, MisterFancyHotBalls_2. Thanks, MFHB! - "Let me smell your breath, Eunice - Aha! Drunk again! I should have known better when you said you wanted to Fiddle with my Instrument!"
[Commenter jokes will be added to the post. -Mgmt.]
 |
| Click for big. |
8/25/10
Kids clothes 1973 - Future nerdfect.
To become eligible for these fine garment units, see your object registrar and simply fill out the requisition form, and transmit
your inquiry via the next communications beam.
8/16/10
Chef Boy-Ar-Dee - Make your own "pizza holocaust".
Fairness dictates that, in this most perfect of all possible worlds, people can put whatever they like on a disc of dough and call it pizza. After all, it's a free country (Canada, I mean) and who are we to judge? This is what fairness dictates. Go! Plaza is located in Chicago, however, and we have an opinion or two about pizza. Fairness can dictate all it wants. I'd like to invite fairness to screw itself.
We cannot blame the Germans for this atrocity. After their general naughtiness of 1940-ish, the Germans did their best to apologize by making Mercedeses and BMWses, even if they cost too much for nearly all but the douchiest of bags to afford.
No, we had the staff gourmands at Chef Boy-Ar-Dee to thank for this. In 1973, they determined that there weren't enough ways to eat their watery tomato sauce and powdered cheese concoction, and so the unholy union of sauerkraut and tomato sauce was born into an unsuspecting world. Yet another shitty pizza was inflicted on an the American market. The German Chancellor immediately called a press conference to desperately shout Germany's innocence: "Wir haben nicht diese!"
Just to keep people from mistakenly identifying the sauerkraut for Mozzarella (Heavens no!), they arranged the kraut into little piles. They look like little barrow mounds. If one was really clever, one could put little anchovies under them to represent tiny barrow-wights that sleep in chilled silence, eternally marking the years in stillness and darkness... because nobody's going to eat this rancid pizza!
We shouldn't expect much from Chef Boy-Ar-Dee. The product shot on the front of the box declares to the world their profound misunderstanding of what pizza should look like. A puddle of red with sprinkled cheese powder is NOT a pizza. Sure, they got the shape right, but that's a low bar.
I once had a "pizza" in a trendy sidewalk cafe' in Charlotte NC. It was a dough disc about 8 inches in diameter with no tomato sauce, swiss cheese and bits of chicken on it. This was also not pizza, but they also got the shape right. Maybe the list of requirements for pizzahood consists of a single bullet point: "round"? By this logic, I could easily say that last week I spent five hundred dollars buying a set of four new pizzas for my car. They have as much in common with pizza as Chef Boy -Ar-Dee's German pizza does, and they'll last as long before someone eats them.
No, we had the staff gourmands at Chef Boy-Ar-Dee to thank for this. In 1973, they determined that there weren't enough ways to eat their watery tomato sauce and powdered cheese concoction, and so the unholy union of sauerkraut and tomato sauce was born into an unsuspecting world. Yet another shitty pizza was inflicted on an the American market. The German Chancellor immediately called a press conference to desperately shout Germany's innocence: "Wir haben nicht diese!"
Just to keep people from mistakenly identifying the sauerkraut for Mozzarella (Heavens no!), they arranged the kraut into little piles. They look like little barrow mounds. If one was really clever, one could put little anchovies under them to represent tiny barrow-wights that sleep in chilled silence, eternally marking the years in stillness and darkness... because nobody's going to eat this rancid pizza!
I once had a "pizza" in a trendy sidewalk cafe' in Charlotte NC. It was a dough disc about 8 inches in diameter with no tomato sauce, swiss cheese and bits of chicken on it. This was also not pizza, but they also got the shape right. Maybe the list of requirements for pizzahood consists of a single bullet point: "round"? By this logic, I could easily say that last week I spent five hundred dollars buying a set of four new pizzas for my car. They have as much in common with pizza as Chef Boy -Ar-Dee's German pizza does, and they'll last as long before someone eats them.
8/3/10
Formica Bathroom - Get ready to regret it.
Guess who's back today? It's our favorite whipping boy The Seventies, here to teach us about all you can do with Formica. True enough. You can do a lot with Formica, but you shouldn't do it in your bathroom. Don't listen to The Seventies, people. Remember Disco?
Formica, in case you didn't know, and in case you slightly care, is made from resin (liquid plastic) impregnated paper, with a second decorative printed paper layer and a hard plastic layer on top of that. Yes, the plastic layer is made from Melamine, which you may remember from the much-publicized whoopsie of melamine-contaminated pet food and, later, powdered baby food, all brought to you by lazy and irresposible Chinese manufacturers in 2009. No, your Formica countertop is not going to make you sick unless you smoke it, or grind it up and snort it. Then again, this ad is from the seventies, so, you never know.
Formica's name is an interesting story, and one that I hold up as an example of a good product name, unlike made up nonsense like "Abilify" (a prescription drug) or "Altria" (Philip-Morris' fake name). The mineral "mica" was used as an electrical insulator in resistors in the early 20th century. Formica got it's name because it was originally developed as a "substitute for mica" in this application. Ding! Formica! It's a natural name that grew out of the product's function. All product names should be this way, not dreamed up by naming corporations, based on consumer focus testing and word association.
Is it fair to judge Formica bathroom panels by my memory of leaky, worn out shower stalls? Nope, but I'm going to do it anyway. When I think of Formica showers, I think of swollen, warped panels with black mildew coming from underneath. I'm sure there must be examples of Formica showers with properly sealed edges, but you know how memory can be: the gross ones really stay with you.
The idea behind putting Formica in your shower is that you can decorate your bathroom with godawful patterns, the same way you ruined your kitchen, only more water resistant... assuming you don't skimp on the silicone caulk. Hooray! More ugly everywhere! "Restraint" was a closed book in the seventies. "Too Much", by contrast, was a beloved, dogeared book with favorite passages underlined and highlighted in the seventies. Passages like "migraine" and "retinal burns" were even circled several times.
Aww, why so mean? Well, here's a sample of the wallpaper I recently spent a day pulling down from my bathroom walls. It wasn't Formica, so it came off in curly sheets, rather than biohazardous planks with water bugs swarming out from behind them.
Spending two years with this cornucopia wallpaper in my bathroom was like brushing my teeth while staring at a Magic Eye print, except that the sailboat never appeared. The pattern just kept vibrating on all four walls until I felt like vomiting. Fortunately the toilet was always handy... not that anyone would notice if I just spewed on the walls.
The Seventies even shows us the miracle of a carpeted bathroom. Tired of that easy-to-clean, quick-to-dry hygienic tile floor in your bathroom? Solve that problem with carpeting, baby, and don't be such a potsy! Leave town for a week or two and a bathroom like this would be reclaimed by foot-high fungal growths when you return. You'd have to throw your body weight against the door to get it open, feeling the mushroom stalks snapping as the door sheared them off the floor. But that'd be worth it, as long as you have that warm, soft carpet beneath your bare toes, right? Screw you, The Seventies. You're an idiot.
Formica's name is an interesting story, and one that I hold up as an example of a good product name, unlike made up nonsense like "Abilify" (a prescription drug) or "Altria" (Philip-Morris' fake name). The mineral "mica" was used as an electrical insulator in resistors in the early 20th century. Formica got it's name because it was originally developed as a "substitute for mica" in this application. Ding! Formica! It's a natural name that grew out of the product's function. All product names should be this way, not dreamed up by naming corporations, based on consumer focus testing and word association.
The idea behind putting Formica in your shower is that you can decorate your bathroom with godawful patterns, the same way you ruined your kitchen, only more water resistant... assuming you don't skimp on the silicone caulk. Hooray! More ugly everywhere! "Restraint" was a closed book in the seventies. "Too Much", by contrast, was a beloved, dogeared book with favorite passages underlined and highlighted in the seventies. Passages like "migraine" and "retinal burns" were even circled several times.
The Seventies even shows us the miracle of a carpeted bathroom. Tired of that easy-to-clean, quick-to-dry hygienic tile floor in your bathroom? Solve that problem with carpeting, baby, and don't be such a potsy! Leave town for a week or two and a bathroom like this would be reclaimed by foot-high fungal growths when you return. You'd have to throw your body weight against the door to get it open, feeling the mushroom stalks snapping as the door sheared them off the floor. But that'd be worth it, as long as you have that warm, soft carpet beneath your bare toes, right? Screw you, The Seventies. You're an idiot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
