Get a lift with a Camel! - Olympikcy!

Just in time for the end of the Olympics, we've found something Olympicky! Camel cigarettes were the secret ingredient to Olympic gold in 1935! Observe!

We found this ad in a 1935 copy of Fortune magazine, the favored periodical of the Monopoly guy. The ad clearly proves that Olympic speed skater Jack Shea used Camels as part of his post-race recovery regimen. They restore his "pep". See, cigarettes provide an "abundant supply of stamina and energy".

That's a laugh. Maybe it'll be funny to look up how Shea died. That should only take a second. Let's see.. clickety clack... aah here it is.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Shea_(speed_skater)

Jack Amos Shea... mumble mumble... nickname "The Chief"... mumble mumble... American double-gold medalist... mumble mumble... died January 22, 2002, aged ninety-one. Say WHAT? Double you tee eff?

https://www.sports-reference.com/olympics/athletes/sh/jack-shea-1.html

Shea's son (1964 and 1968 Olympics) and grandson (2002 Olympics) were also Olympians, and it was just before the 2002 Olympics, where he would have watched his grandson win a gold in the skeleton event, if Jack hadn't died in a car accident shortly before the games. So, what took him out was a car accident. He didn't seem to suffer some dreary and horrible decline due to lung cancer.

Jeez. Even though this doesn't fit the conventional narrative, there's still not much reason to run out an begin a long and fruitful tobacco habit. But wow. Ninety-one.

Anyway, who else owed their lifelong success to Camels? A draftsman, a store manager, a tree surgeon, and this lady: Mrs. William Wetmore. See, since it was 1935, she didn't get to have a name. She was simply an appendage of her husband. And he, in turn, gave her a new appendage in the form of a new surname to replace the old clunky one she was born with: Wetmore. Man, I wish I could think of a joke about that, but nothing springs to mind. Ah well, I'm sure something will come up. So what did Missus Billy Wetmore do with all her Camel-fueled energy?

She was a... "New York society leader"? Good for her. The headlines are full of unfortunate stories about societies that wind up on the wrong side of the law because they don't have anyone to lead them. I don't know how many times this week I've read about misguided societies holding up liquor stores or shooting smack under a bridge. Damn shame. Thanks, Mrs. William Wetmore! And thank, you, Camels, for all our pep!

Oh yeah. The Camel Caravan is promoted at the bottom of the ad. That was a radio show. It sounded pretty much like you'd expect - tootling clarinets and horns that sound like they were recorded in somebody's nose. Here, smell for yourself. Hear for yourself. You're welcome!

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Kensitas - Never heard of them. "That's good!"

Who-sitas? Kensitas. Sorry, never heard of them. That's because I'm a yank, and Kensitas is a Scottish-owned UK-only brand of cigarette. Yes, "is". Turns out they're still around, and probably still rhyming it up somewhere. They sure are rhyming it up a bit in this ad, found in a 1952 copy of Picture Post.

Yep, 1952 sure loved itself some rhyming ads. The hope was that an ad in catchy limerick form would stick in the mind in the same way that "Blimey, I'm addicted to nicotine. I need a cigarine!" sticks in the mind. Incidentally, "cigarine" is a cockney blithering gibberish rhyming slang for "cigarette" that I just made up.

This ad shows us all three types of Englishperson, each with very strong opinions about Kensitas. Spoiler alert - they like Kensitas:

The tousled but pretty ex-con who still wears the handcuffs of her arrest as a reminder of what she is willing do for a Kensitas. Her waist is the same diameter as her head, which not only indicates that she could easily wear the handcuffs as a belt, but also shows us that you really can smoke yourself thin - "That's good!"

The merry seaside deck chair rentsman, played tonight by John Cleese, who judges seaside visitors by whether they smoke Kensitas, or are "a right bastard, that one". Don't cross the chair rentsman. Your bum is in his hands. "That's good!"

The grizzled old sea captain, who once had something on his mind, but that was ever such a long time ago. He always keeps a Kensitas wedged between his teeth and lip, somehow. You may think he's steering the boat, and that the helm just drifts artfully out of the image, but nope. That's his entire boat now. Hey, didn't he set sail with a full crew aboard his vessel? Never you mind. Stare into the emptiness of his briney blue gaze and know that the sea keeps her secrets. "That's good!"

Bet you didn't notice, but each of the three types of Englishperson are 1000 pixel square images, if you click through them. This means you can save them for use as your personal profile picture in whatever it is the kids are using to yammer back and forth at each other about last night's episode of 13 Reasons Why when they should be watching for the light to turn green again. Put your fucking phone down and drive your fucking car, you narcissistic prick!

Aaaanyway, you're welcome for your new avatar/profile picture! "That's good!"

Old Gold - Just make it stop.

Dad used to relax with a cigarette. In fact, he probably relaxed maybe twenty-five times per day. What this Old Gold ad is ignoring is how un-relaxing his relaxation may be for anyone else in the house who doesn't enjoy the smell.

When dad would light up (which was more often than the times in which he wasn't lighting up), I'd shut my bedroom door and stuff a t-shirt in the gap underneath it, in a pathetic and futile attempt to keep the stink out of my room. The sitnk seemed even more intense on a bright saturday morning when it was the first sensation to wake me up, instead of, say, the smell of eggs and toast. Good times.

So, in this ad, the boy is practicing his violin in the family room? Couldn't he go practice in his bedroom? Or, maybe he's putting on a little recital for his dad? Or, maybe this family lives in a single-room yurt? That was big among LIFE's readership in 1945, right? Lots of middle-American yurtdwellers? Too many unanswered questions, man.

Anyway, you may, in the last few days, just want this shit to stop. Changing the profile pic on your FaceTube account isn't going to make that happen, but sometimes nothing will. Not in the near term, at least. But it may give your friends a laugh, though.

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Maybe you identify with the boy, whose early attempts at music went unappreciated by your parents? Hey, at least they rented him the violin, right? That's not nothing.

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And there's mom, too. She doesn't have a strong role in this little tableau, probably because this is 1945. (Well, the ad is from 1945. This is not currently the year 1945. We still live in The Future, but this shit is just getting started, so you never know.) But whatever. Here's the tolerant and dutiful mom and wife who, for some reason, loves both of these narcissistic jerks.

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Have a smoke. Do whatever gets you through the night. It's alright. It's alright.

Lucky Strike Half & Half Tobacco - Your bastard avatar is here.

In a slight breach of procedure, we posted the Old Bastard Whiskey ad from yesterday without also offering a nice thousand-pixel avatar of Old Bastard himself. He'd look pretty good as your profile picture or whatever on your forum, chat service, or social media thing or whatever, right?

He came from this Lucky Strike ad from a 1936 issue of Popular Science. He's way bigger than when we shrunk him down to be the figurehead of Old Bastard Whiskey - plenty of resolution to get a good image. That was nice of him. What a nice bastard he is!

The ad copy reads like they just invented language. No idioms at all. "Cool as the summons 'The boss wants to see you.'" "Your password to pleasure!" It sounds awkward on the one hand, but on the other hand, why embrace cliche and worn-out phraseology? "People who love to say "think outside the box", I'm looking at YOU.

Check out the cool telescoping tin that the tobacco came in! Apparently, it was a chore reaching deep into an emptying tin to get out the last of the tobacco, so they made a can that shrinks as you go. Weird. It looks like it had rolled edges. What's with the "no bite" thing? Ah well. Who knows.

A neat custom can like that would be judged "cost prohibitive" by today's don't-give-a-crap-but-pretend-we-give-a-crap standards. A little common sense would be a great thing to see in package design today.

For example, "easy tear" lunch meat packages whose rip cord completely fails to actually open the bag.

For another example, they should abandon the design of any mayonnaise -type jar that's just tall enough to totally smear the handle of a butter knife as you try to retrieve the last of the mayo from the bottom. That plinkety-plinkety sound is the harbinger of messy fingers.

Anyway, you want your bastard avatar. Hold your horses. Here he is. Thousand by a thousand. Nobody's account settings should find an excuse to choke on a 1k x1k jpeg like this. He sure looks like he's just foreclosed on an orphanage, doesn't he? What a great bastard. You're welcome!

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Lucky Strike - A random string of gibberish means fine tobacco!

Poor cigarette advertisers. They have a tough job: Try to sell a product with no practical purpose, and one that which, when used properly, will ruin your health. So that leaves them with no option but to appeal to your irrational child-brain, and every kid loves rhymes, right?

In 1950, people had more time on their hands. This ad was on the back of LIFE magazine. So, it probably spent some of its time lying on coffee tables with this ad facing up. So, presumably,  people could be expected to spend six minutes mentally sorting out the jumble of images and disconnected thoughts that make up this ad. It's mostly random people spewing cigarette-themed nursery rhymes should do the job. And, don't forget to make them look so happy they're almost scary.

 Lucky Strike seems to understand the appeal of super simple rhymes, hoping they'll get stuck in your head. So, why then did they settle on "L.S./M.F.T." as their signature slogan? It's even got a slash in it, making it as catchy as the average internet URL. In their ads, the voice over guy chants it like he's trying to teach it to you. That's because he's trying to teach it to you. It's that catchy!

So what's with that sloppy little painting of a rabbit? Maybe back in '50 he must have been some kind of mascot that was so recognizable he needed no introduction?

Best of all is this startling postman. It's left to him to somehow weave the company's cumbersome slogan into a rhyme of some sort. He's up to the task, though, because he's hopped up on goofballs... and Luckies. He's got the energy to do is rounds, and still have enough juice left over to spend a few hours looking in your windows.










Imagine opening your mail slot to find these eyes staring back at you (see below). L.S./M.F.T. means "Stab You in the Eye With a Fucking Corkscrew."

This postman's got more work to do. He deserves a space in your hard drive's Nightmare Clip Art collection. Here he is with his mail pack filled in, after being cut off by the edge of the magazine cover. He can point and leer at just about anything you want now. Right click him into a nice dark folder where you can keep an eye on him, or just torture him like he deserves, with all the tools MS Paint has to offer. You're welcome!

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Tareyton Cigarettes - The warmth of a traditional Exmess.

If you're like most people, your childhood memories of happy Christmases are filled with images of your mom in her red velvet Christmas dress, posing on one knee in your blank, featureless living room, lit like a cafeteria. In the background, you may also remember a semi-convincing backdrop of Manhattan, and white painted Christmas tree, and under that tree are cartons and cartons of cigarettes. Aah, memories.

This is Mrs. Charles Amory, a New York and Palm Beach socialite, which means her only skill is being rich.... and picking out the very best Christmas presents for all the lucky people on her Exmess list! Surely all the friends and loved ones of Mrs. Charles Amory could feel the depth and bond of her personal affection with every puff, because discriminating people are discriminating enough to give the same carefully chosen present to everyone indiscriminately.

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Zippo - Santa the enabler.

This 1950 ad for Zippo lighters has a wonderful Santa comic in it. Hooray! The new one's out!

Zippo lighters. Blah blah blah. Windproof, etc etc. Yeah, yeah. You know what? Unless you're a habitual smoker, a Zippo is not for you.

You may buy a Zippo just to keep around, for those occasions when you need to make a fire, expecting the Zippo to be very reliable. It is reliable, so long as you use it every day and keep it filled. The reservoir in a Zippo isn't sealed in any real way. The two halves of a zippo slide together, and inside is a dense square of cotton, which keeps the fuel from sloshing around or running out. What this design doesn't do is keep it from evaporating away in a week or two. So, unless you're "on the junk" look elsewhere for your occasional firemaker.

Anyhoo, on to the comic!

In the first panel, we see a grumpy couple, upset because they can't smoke. Why? Their shitty lighter won't work! They obviously left their Zippo sitting unused for the better part of a month. What a couple of losers! In the background, we see the legs of Santa Claus, dangling festively in the fireplace. It looks like the burden of being an ageless seasonal icon was too much for Santa, and the romantic couple were going to celebrate with a quick smoke. What a bunch of jerks those two are.

What's this? Santa's not dead after all! "Let me get that for you, you dud!" Santa lights the lady's cigarette, proving he is the better man. We can only assume Santa made off with her (She's definitely thin enough to fit up the chimney.) and they got it on in his sleigh. Lesson to all men: if you want your lighter to work when you need it to get you "in the saddle", don't buy a Zippo. Get a 75¢ cent plastic gas station lighter and it will work every time. Then, Santa Claus won't steal your date and do the nasty with her on your own roof, emasculating you. The end.

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Spud Imperials - Spuds Hackenzie.

Soooo, it looks like there used to be a cigarette company called "Spud". Whatever oldness you have to be to know this, I guess I'm not it. That's nice.

Why would you name your company something as goofy as "Spud"? Well, if your a guy whose nickname is "Spud", like Lloyd "Spud" Hughes. Long story short, he was a man from Ohio who had the idea of adding minty flavoring to cigarettes to make the smoke seem cooler, or, if you're a "special needs" professional with a career in marketing, "Kool-er". I'll remind you now that your trademark will be more bulletproof if you make up a stupid spelling for an already existing word so that you can say you invented that retarded version of the word. Thus does marketing spread ignorance throughout the land. This is why so many people think "espresso" is spelled "expresso". It is also why the letter S has been all but supplanted with the letter Z in nearly all forms of printed advertising.

Anyhoo, yeah, menthol cigarettes. Since the smoke gives you the illusion of coolness, Spud then goes hog wild implying that their cigarettes are not necessarily "good" for your throat, but "less awful" for your throat. Notice that, in the copy, they're very very careful not to say that their cigarettes are helpful in any way. However, they very energetically imply the hell out of "they're helpful in every way".

"Spuds' exhilirating menthol seems to cut right through that cold-clogged tatse and bring you old-time smoking pleasure!".

"Seems" is subjective, and cannot be disproven.

"Voice husky? Smoke a pack of spuds! They're not a remedy. But many find them more agreeable, more pleasing, at times when they can't enjoy other cigarettes!" As good as "Severed femoral artery? Smoke a pack of Spuds! They won't help you save your leg, or deliver you to a hospital, but they won't make it any worse!" Also "Voice husky? Whack a hornets' nest with a pool cue! It's not a remedy, but it won't directly exacerbate your voice problem... until you start screaming from the stinging and the hornets fly down your throat... but that's not a direct effect, right? Try Spuds!"

This sentence describes second-hand anecdotes, which may or may not be completely made up, and also cannot be disproven. Also, "many" is subjective and basically has little meaning. The one smidgen of actual truth here is that "They're not a remedy."

"...does not produce irritating acrolein..."

This sentence only mentions one of the many irritants in cigarette smoke, and Axton-Fisher would like you to forget that.

"Enjoy the feeling of cool refreshment..."

Again, completely subjective, and meaningless.

But hey, this print ad is pretty innocuous, compared to this Spuds TV ad. This ad lets me enjoy the feeling of irritated bemusement when I can't enjoy other forms of advertising! Many find it more freaky, more condescending. Stare deep into his eye-holes and want a smoke.

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Pall Mall - Smoke in some grass.

The grass is green again, citizens, and that means it's time to think about mowing... but first, take a few minutes to lie face down in your lawn.

And when you're prone, enjoy a fine Pall Mall, for that can-barely-lift-my-head, don't-ask-me-to-get-up feeling. Nothing says nature like humping the lawn with a mild Pall Mall, "wherever particular people congregate": you know, lying on your face out in the yard.

Fatima Cigarettes - Season's breathings!... and Pointy Tree Day Card Reminder!

There's nothing like getting a carton of cigarettes for Pointy Tree Day, right, kids? That's why we love sending out our P.T.D. Cards with actual, real, undoctored cigarette ads on them. Here's one from Fatima Cigarettes that's the wrong shape to fit on a card, so it's a regular old post today. Who's cigarettes? Fatima, I guess!

I never heard of Fatima cigarettes before. Maybe the Liggett & Meyers Tobacco Company was just trying to cash in on all the supernatural kookiness surrounding the town in Portugal of the same name, where people think they saw miracles back in the early 20th century? That would be a shrewd business decision. "If we can get all Catholics to smoke our brand, we'll be eyeballs deep in yachts and prostitutes!"

Anyhoo, here's a fun game. Any time you see a photo of a reflective object, look in the reflections to see what the studio looked like. You have to kind of "unwrap" the shperical image, but it's not too hard. See this pink ornament? If you look into the mirrored surface, you can see the standard photographer's trick of building a white box around the product. You can see white panels forming a rough cube around the table, and what looks like a light behind a big diffuser of some kind. The camera is hidden in that black area in the center, just below the bright diffuser thing.

That's right, Ralph. Together, we're all learnding about the ancient art of photographying!

Pointy Tree Day Card get!

Hey, citizens! Our busy little elves (interns) are busily licking and stamping piles of Pointy Tree Day Cards and getting ready to send them out to various humans all over the globe. I haven't told the intern-elves that we have a bulk mailing account and there's no need for the stamps, but they seem to enjoy the taste of glue, so it's a win-win. It's not too late to get your Pointy Tree Day Card. What's the picture on this year's card? Secret! Ask for one and find out. You just need to send us some kind of physical address to philarego@gmail.com. Nobody will come to your house (except the mail human, of course), and we won't market any crap to you, and no salesman will call. We're far too lazy for any of that.

Lucky Strike - A first time for everything.

The Phil Are GO! Content Acquisition Team dropped this in my desk this morning. It is the least stupid and not insulting cigarette ad I have ever seen. There's no made up  pseudoscience about "your T zone", or bogus appeal to authority using smoking doctors. Of course, the ad isn't doing much, because there's just not much to be done, without lying to people. Picture of person. Picture of product, hoping you'll make the association and believe that if you use one you can get the other.

Of course, the idea of smoke ""tasting better" is a little weird, to the eyes of a non-smoker, but I suppose it can be true. "Better" is a comparative word, and therefore, subjective. It can't be proven or disproven.

But look at her, whoever she is, looking all "I don't need your stupid whatever you got". She doesn't make me want to pick up smoking, (especially when you think what her mouth must smell like) but she maybe makes me want to start my own auto repair business so I can tear out her page and put it on the wall next to the nail holding up the strap wrench.

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Marlboro - Read like a man.

The interwebs loves to point out that several of the Marlboro mans have died of smoking-related illnesses. Yes, irony is hilarious. But guess what? way way back in 1957, The Marlboro Man wore glasses and.... read books.

It seems like the current model of American machismo is as likely to have a guy burning books as much as reading them, but here's Marlboro in 1957 holding up a symbol of Yankee toughness in the form of a man who, apparently, is literate.

But wait, there's another thing. Marlboro Man was in the military - or, at least his hand was. This is more in line with the kind of image we have come to expect from mister imaginary tough guy. Just goes to show you what a complex guy a marketing tool can be. So, in what branch of the service did he do his serving? I don't recognize the tattoo at all. It's not any emblem from the USMC, or the Army, Navy or the USAF that I can find. Maybe it's a legal-safe military-looking thingy that makes you think what Marlboro wants you to think, all without ruffling the epaulets of the military brass? I dunno. Maybe one of our Alert Readers knows it. Please mention in the comments if you recognize the tattoo.

UPDATE: Thanks to Alert reader Missus Bug, we now know that the tattoo is an older version of the Navy pilot wings. Thanks, Mrs. B!

What's Marlboro Man Reading? Hard to say...
"The Deinttees of Nirdieree, by Sinsnam". Never heard of it. Must be over my head.

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