Me? A real Electronician? Golly!

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Old Crow - The Greatest Holiday Tradishin

Granted, I'm not a career alcoholic, but I've never heard of Old Crow. I'm pretty sure I've seen the brand in cartoons, but I never thought it was a real brand of alcohol. Apparently some guys decided it was good to give their brand of bourbon that "hillbilly chic" that every brand longs for, by naming it Old crow.
Unless you're some kind of employable non-drifter weirdo, you're hep to the jive that giving and drinking Old Crow has been a holiday tradition since 1835. A reasonable question may be "Where? Says who?". Don't be a cheater. That's two questions. The tradition probably began in the marketing offices of Fortune Brands, and from there, it thundered in popularity all the way to the advertising department of Fortune Brands, just like the Old Crow Arbor Day Drunken Tree Chop And Limb Reattachment Festival.

Why is the declaration of tradition printed on a paddle? For the traditional Holiday Ass-Paddling, of course! Those who fail to remember that Old Crow is a holiday tradition are spanked by a wooden paddle with the tradition rationally explained in "ye friendly olde typeface". A reasonable question may be "A real tradition doesn't need a sign or advertising for people to remember to do it. A tradition is a specific practice of long standing, and as such, shouldn't need a reminder." Well, that's not a question. What's the matter with you? You obviously haven't been drinking enough bourbon. Go have some now, and then come back with your question rephrased as a belligerent slur. And try to have those little spit bubbles at the corner of your mouth.

 Why not try making your own Old Crow holiday punch this holiday season? Just look at the picture and make your punch look just like that. Here, let me help you...

1. Acquire large bourbon bowl. A whiskey urn or tequila basin may be substituted.
2. Add Old Crow Kentucky Bourbon till you're worried your holiday gathering may be too booze-centric.
3. Sprinkle in orange hemispheres, dotted with maraschino cherries. This is to remind your toeheaded hilljack guests that they like boobs, I guess.
4. Insert sock.
5. Serve in girly little teacups that your drunken hick friends are likely to eat or throw at each other. Then settle down for the greatest tradition of all, filling out the Holiday Police Report.

Magnavox TV Credenza - Yee Haw!

In the era of Gunsmoke and Bonanza, is it any wonder that televsision sets looked like they were built by the Apple Dumpling Gang? Everybody's couch had twisty armrests and everybody's kitchen table had wiggly spindle legs. At the time, colonial styling was so popular that you could buy pants with wainscotting around the lower legs and crown moulding in place of a belt.

 

In 1968, if you wanted a home theater experience, you probably bought an all-in-one package like many people do today. Unlike today, after lugging home a giant box in your Rambler, you dragged the thing into your living room, had spinal surgery, and then opened the giant box. You then pulled out... a giant box only a few inches smaller than the box it came from. This box wasn't made of cardboard. It was probably made of wood and some plastic that looked like wood. If yours was a real fancy family, it maybe had barn doors on the front that could hide the screen, for when cowboys come to visit.
The screen was no bigger than about 24" measured diagonally, and was roughly hemispherical, like watching TV projected on the surface of an astronaut's helmet. Not only did this make you feel more excited about the upcoming moon landing, it also allowed people to view the screen from 90 degrees to the side of the TV set. Also, it reminded you that you were futuristic, because, as anyone will tell you, by the year 2000 everyone will live in domed cities.

In the top of your new entertainment console was a record player, for all your Johnny Mathis needs. Or, you could watch I Love Lucy while listening to The Doors in case you wanted to go insane. If the turntable broke, you had to call in a carpenter to come fix it.

In 1968, entertainment was simple. Cowboy shows and family comedies for mom and dad. A picture of balloons for the kids. This was mostly because they were all hopped up on "the drugs". It hardly mattered what was on. They'd be just as happy watching a box of cereal. Just to mess with them, mom and dad would apparently lay down some sod in the family room instead of carpet. This way,  the kids would think they were watching TV in the back yard. Don't ask why - it was the sixties, and the seventies wouldn't make much more sense.

Columbia Cartridge Club - Squarin' the Night Away

Many people old enough to have a mortgage or buy shamwows with a credit card still aren't old enough to remember record clubs. But, they used to be the most popular way to buy music. Well, they were a popular way to buy music. That is to say, they were a way to buy music. Actually, they were a way for several people to buy music once and then immediately hate that way of buying music.
For everyone under 30, here's how they worked.

1. You subscribe to the club and immediately get from one to ten albums free. You chose from maybe a hundred or so albums listed in the ad. Nomatter what you chose, your shipment would always include one Captain and Tenille album. This is the last time you ever have a choice in your life as a club member.

2. Every month, the record company sends you The Monthly Selections, and you pay full price for the albums. It was usually around four albums, and every member gets the same records. No choice. Why would you want to choose? What's wrong with you? Giving people choice is bad for business, you communist.

3. The very day you receive your first set of shitty albums, you regret ever signing up and begin a life-long resentment of the record industry that still shows you new facets to your capacity for loathing to this very day. You can send the records back for a refund, but in discovering how shitty the albums are, you had opened the package, and now you could enjoy repacking the albums and paying shipping charges. The business model of the record club relies heavily on people's laziness and procrastination, as there was usually a time limit on returning your albums. How's that for customer-oriented marketing?

4. Upon quitting the club, the record company would send you a friendly letter reminding you that your membership obligation didn't expire for one to one thousand years in the future, and as such, suicide would only transfer your membership obligation to your heirs. Because of this clause, there is a woman in Baraboo, Wisconsin who is responsible for purchasing over six hunderd LP's, 8-tracks, and cassettes every month featuring bands she neither likes, nor has ever heard of, apart from their occurrence in the monthly music shipment, delivered via CH-47 helicopter to her roof, courtesy of the Columbia Music Club. Due to the financial burden of her inherited contractual obligations, she declares bankruptcy every four hours, and the record company has resorted to claiming her monthly membership fees in organ "donations".

Now, in 2009, record companies are still finding new ways to punish their customers. From Sony BMG's rootkit disaster, to DRM, there's always another way for music publishers to make music buyers angry and take away their choices.

Yeah yeah, big deal. Look at these happy squares, swinging away the night, thanks to Generic Man's two new 8-track cartridges. Well, presumably he owns a third one, which hopefully is already playing. Otherwise, the couple in the background are doing what, exactly? Are they in their pre-dance pose, ready to rock, as soon as Generic Man chooses between Little Green Apples and Goin' Out of My Head? Maybe the man with Tiny Legs Syndrome (TLS) is just standing around looking normal, and the lady in the groovy dress is recoiling in horror? I'll assume that Little Green Apples is playing and she's recoiling in horror.

Olds Cutlass F85 - Can't Make Fun

Sorry. Can't make fun of this. It's a really great painting of a car and that's about it. As usual, click for a much larger version of the picture. Very pretty.
Back before the whole computer thing took over the art biz, every advertising agency had amazing painters for this kind of stuff. There are still incredible painters like this around, but they're few and far between because there's much less need for people who can paint. More often, an artist may achieve notoriety among peers by being a good photo retoucher. Some people even call themselves artists when all they do is comp different photos together and smear around the pixels. In my opinion, an artist is able to work from scratch. Start with a blank sheet of art board and draw it, shade it, scan it (if you have to), render it. I mean, the artist here, of course, had photo reference of the car, and probably the people, and the house. However, scanning and actually inserting photographs into your file and then passing it off as your own work just crosses a line in my mind that I think is professionally and artistically fraudulent. But what do I know? If someone pays you to do it, it must be okay, right?

It's not surprising that in this ad, the car is the star of the show. It's rendered very sharp and super realistically. It's still fun to note that the people are much less clearly defined. They're painted more impressionistically, with vague features and rough brushwork. This is no mistake. It's just a way to keep the emphasis on the car. Funny thing, though. Although the characters and care are seemingly from two different universes - that of realism and impressionism - the kids' reflection in the hood of the car is where the two worlds collide.

It's a little odd to have the vague and blotchy humans sitting in the car, but it's a little more weird to have the blotchy parents' kids reflected in the laser sharp hood of the car. Of course, this makes more sense than having the kids' reflection appear perfectly clear when they themselves are loosely rendered. It's just amusing to see.

The grill on this car looks like an electric shaver. That's not necessarily bad. I like this grill. Of course, lots of cars looked like that at the time. There are some positively hideous grills on current models.

One last thing.Auto makers at the time (1961) were still infatuated with airplanes, even though the tail fins and pretend jet engines had been mercifully abandoned. There's a little jet airplane shooting through the "Cutlass" logo. It's hard to let go.

Madam Rowley's Toilet Mask

Hello, modern Gentle-Ladies and Prostitutes! Are you ugly? Have you ever heard the following from a suitor? "Egad, milady! You have the countenance of a hedge-vole!" Or this: "Madam, I believe that your blemishes are malignant and unbleached."

Madame Rowley wants to help you appear less repulsive and suffer from fewer complexion blemishes. By the remedial employment of her Toilet Mask, you can un-do the injuriousness of cosmetics and head-powders otherwise used by the foolish woman to perpetrate the larceny of illusory youth.

Worn thrice weekly, the Toilet Mask is filled with liquid-bleach and conveniently affixed to the face by the vigor of straps. As the lady tends to her other various daily ablutions, her complexion is being scorched free of spots, blemishes, gnomes, and pock-crevices, with no further endeavor carried out, apart from frequent face-washing with tepid water, application of burn tincture and fortnightly eye-bathing!

Your man-visitors and liasoners will find your face more healthful and tender. You will have the appearance of a younger woman, with skin like a delicious haddock fillet! All you need do is take care to keep the face away from open flame for three hours after treatment.

We would like to entreat you to send away for our illustrated treatise, with full particulars, via post-mail. Beware other toilet masks conveyed to the public by charlatans and market-usurpers! Order your trade-marked toilet mask today from Madam Rowley.

Fleischmann's Booze - Magic Moments

Ron and Flossy had been planning this evening for weeks. They had to get this right. Starting over in a new town could be so stressful. The whole Community was judging them. Fortunately they had Fleischmann's Various Boozes to smooth the way.

The city had just finished remodeling the courthouse, and Ron had scored most of the siding from the work site. It lookd perfect in their living room behind the cabinet containing the remains of Vlad Tepes III, which they had picked up on their trip to Bucharest.

The Frobes had complimented Trudy on her choice of gastric green embossed wallpaper behind the Mary Queen of Scots sofa from the Super Swirlicue line. The nearly-matching armchair hadn't been available in the same shade of Revolution Blue, but it all worked out. They just upholstered it with the wallpaper. It looked so nice next to the Christmas fern!

As the Fleischmann's started to flow, the party really started to take shape. The Dlundricks and Frobes were mingling nicely. Trost and Flossy were staring deep into each other's eyes while Ged and Fortuna kept pouring each other new drinks.

This was going to be the best swinging party ever. And in the morning, Ron and Trudy would harvest their organs and have them exported to Honduras just in time for afternoon tea. The cleaning lady would throw a fit, but she'd get over it... with help from Fleischmann's Various Boozes!