Vintage Ads from the Great Depression or “Are You Gonna Eat the Rest of Your Paste?”

1931 Saturday Evening PostLast night, I was browsing through this 81 year-old Saturday Evening Post (I’m trying to catch up on my reading), when I came across this ad:

This ad states that in 1931,  Gluey Paste was used in over half of schools in the United States.  It doesn’t say what the other half used,  I’m guessing Pastey Glue.

And since it was the Great Depression,  it’s also probably safe to assume  that whether it was Gluey Paste or Pastey Glue — it was certainly the favorite breakfast choice for United States school children everywhere.

Underneath that ad was this happy thought:

Dr. Scholl's SolvexAs the ad so carefully blurts out, if your feet (and toes) are itchy you, could have anything from Athlete’s Foot to Gym Foot — maybe even going so far as to have contracted a case of Golfer’s Itch which is apparently a subsidiary itch of the athlete or the person who frequents a gym.

The ad also mentions ringworm right after mentioning
Golfer’s Itch.  So apparently back in 1931, it was common place to contract ringworm while golfing.

Of course, it was nothing to worry about since Dr. Scholl’s Solvex could be used as a remedy and purchased for a buck.  And if that didn’t work, you could always steal some Gluey Paste or Pastey Glue off some United States School children and give that a go.

And of course, what man could hold his head up in public without:

Apparently in 1931, there were two ways to wear one’s hair.  Brushed or Well Brushed.  The pinnacle to which one could aspire hair-wise in 1931, was to have “well brushed hair all the time,” in addition to a “healthy scalp” (Apparently a healthy scalp wasn’t a given and there were a profusion of unhealthy scalps to be encountered at every turn that one must politely ignore.) 

The ad goes on to imply that in order to get both well brushed hair all the time AND a healthy scalp simultaneously, one must pour liquid hair dressing on one’s head taking great care to smell it first. 

If it was unscented it went on the head-; if  it was scented it went on the head of lettuce.

It goes without saying, of course, that said wearer should thoroughly saturate the hair and scalp in order to get that freshly applied “oily glow” hence the catchy name: Glo-co

So there you have it, Dear Reader!  And what did we learn today?  Let’s review in case you suddenly find yourself whisked away to the Great Depression:

  1. We learned that in 1931, Pastey Glue and Gluey Paste were an important part of every child’s breakfast.
  2. We learned that in 1931, if you didn’t have ringworm, you probably weren’t a very good golfer.
  3. We learned that in 1931, men with oil dripping down the back of their necks had healthy scalps.

Until next time . . . I love you

The Day Frieda Flerf Got Lost In A Bag of Skittles

The Day Frieda Flerf Got Lost in a Bag of Skittles

While eating Skittles, Frieda Flerf suddenly found herself inside the bag hopelessly pinned between a red one and a yellow one. As she began gnawing her way to freedom she heard Mama calling, “Frieda!”

–The Weekend Trifextra Writing Challenge, Week 8: Write a story in exactly 33 words. The word “lost” must be in the title but not in the 33 words!

Frieda if you can hear me wiggle a yellow.

Until next time . . . I love you

Linda’s List of Generic Excuses for Awkward Social Moments!

Dear reader we’ve all been there!  We’ve all been visitors at the Awkward Moment Hotel.  Checking in on our own accord then unable to check out gracefully once the social faux pas has been made.

Awkward moments like:

  • Asking when someone’s baby is due only to find out that not only is the person not pregnant, said person happens to be a man.
  • Inadvertently running over someone’s foot in the parking lot.
  • Making a humorous comment about somebody getting hanged to the person whose loved one just got hanged the day before yesterday!

Of course, I haven’t actually done any of these as yet. . . but it’s still early in the day.  Therefore, I have taken the liberty of coming up with a few simple excuses –generic, one-size fits all excuses, — if you will —  that we can keep up our sleeves should we find the need to smooth over  “things” with a  friend, a boss or the occasional nun.

Linda’s Generic Excuse #1:

Let’s say you happen to be strolling along the waterfront when you come across a big-bellied man whom you mistake for a pregnant woman and blurt out,  “When’s the baby due?”

As soon as you realize your blunder, you can quickly counter with Linda’s generic excuse #1:

“I’m sorry, my glasses are on back order,”

This should confuse the issue long enough with the longshoreman (or whomever) so that you can run away and take safe haven in the nearest strip joint.

Linda’s Generic Excuse #2:

Now let’s say you run over somebody’s foot in the parking lot — a scenario we’re all bound to experience at some point in our lives.  No more filling out police reports!  With Linda’s Generic Excuse #2,  all you have to do is roll down your window and shout,

“I’m sorry, my crutches are on back order!”

This quickly implies to the injured party that 1) you have no control over your feet, and that 2) you are trying to do something about it but haven’t been very successful!

And then simply drive off.  No muss, no fuss.

Linda’s Generic Excuse #3

Now let’s say you go to a gathering and quickly take center stage telling a long, drawn-out, humorous story about somebody being hanged.

When suddenly, you remember that your hostess’s husband, Joey,  just got hanged day before yesterday.  Of course, it could be awkward when said hostess busts into tears, runs out of the room and is inconsolable for days . .  but not any more!  Thanks to Linda’s Generic Excuse #3– you now simply say:

“I’m sorry, my medications are on back order.”

This little phrase says everything without explaining anything.  If uttered along with a tear or two, the hostess will not only remain your friend, she’ll probably be happy to drive you home.


So there you have it, Dear Reader, no more awkward moments!  Now that you’ve got all the excuses you’ll ever need,  get out there and mingle!

Until next time . . . I love you

Don’t Know What to Eat? I Know, Let’s Ask the Government!

I don’t know about you, but often times I’ll go to my refrigerator and open the door and stand there for days on end trying to decide what to eat.

Not only does this kind of thing waste valuable electricity, it also wastes valuable time that could be better spent checking for days on end to see if it’s warm enough to go outside.

Well, I’m happy to report, Dear Reader, all this has changed! Changed because of this 1942 American Red Cross Food and Nutrition booklet I chanced upon at the thrift store!

Let’s now turn to any page at random, shall we?

This looks like an interesting page. Let’s take a closer look.

Let’s call this “Man–Moderately Active,” Herbert.  As you can see, Herbert isn’t too happy with his job down at the factory. Well, who can blame him? Drilling holes in a 2×4 for no apparent reason all the live-long day tends to suck the joy out of Herbert’s me time.

Herbert’s only hope for happiness today or any day is that his wife will be cooking him a nutritional supper planned by the American Red Cross in conjunction with the U.S. Department of Agriculture to insure that Herbert gets a well-balanced meal so that he can live on indefinitely to perform his duties down at the 2×4 hole punching factory!

This Housewife is Herbert’s wife, Herberta. As you can see, she is wiping out a bowl which is her primary duty as Herbert’s wife. Uh Oh! Herberta doesn’t look like she’s planning a supper for her husband that would be deemed appropriate by either the Red Cross OR U.S. Department of Agriculture — let alone in conjunction with!

It isn’t because Herberta hasn’t read . . . no make that memorized The Red Cross Food and Nutrition booklet she was issued at birth back in 1922, it’s just that Herberta will never get this bowl wiped out if she doesn’t keep wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping . . . Plus she really doesn’t give a rip.

This boy–12 is Herbert and Herberta’s son Herbie Jr. As you can see, even though Herbie Jr. is only 12 that doesn’t keep him from looking, acting and dressing like he’s 47.

But just because Herbie Jr. always dresses age inappropriately in a white-dress shirt, tie, sweater vest, sports jacket and — I’m just guessing here — spats, Dear Reader, doesn’t mean that Herbie Jr. is over-compensating for the fact that his parents are losers. He just likes to dress up! God bless his Herbie Jr. soul!

The Chart that DoEsn’t Explain Everything!

This chart represents what the American Red Cross in conjunction with the US Department of Agriculture must insist that Herbert eat if he is to properly punch holes in a 2×4.  The columns in this chart represent “shares.”

As you can see, for example,  if Herbert shares his Vitamin B1 with 20 people and his Calcium with 37 people, he’ll  soon be the picture of health and the apple of the collective eye of the American Red Cross, I’d be willing to bet.

Of course, this means his wife, Herberta, is going to have to cook for upwards of 60 dinner guests every night but a small price to pay for the betterment of  the United States of America’s 2 x 4 hole punching industry.

Ok, but something tells me Herberta ain’t  gonna like it.

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifextra Week Seven Weekend Challenge: A Justified Exclamation Point

The barbecue’s rotisserie was assembled and soon a delicious aroma wafted from the meaty morsel skewered thereupon.

“Mommy, my guinea pig ran away.  Little Suzy cried.

“No, “Mommy laughed heartily.  “He’s barbecuing.”

Little Suzy cried!

If you would like to enter, go to

Aliens Secretly Study Humanity Under the Guise of a 1960’s Sandwich Cookbook.

Innocent cookbook or alien agenda?

I know it’s hard to believe, but after carefully examining the above peculiarly worded cookbook from the 1960’s — it quickly became apparent to me that this is not a cookbook at all, but, in actuality, is a scientific study of the human race conducted by aliens from the planet Zorin! 

Shall we turn to the first page? 

Sandwiches for the Small Fry

As you can see by this heading, the aliens are going to great pains to make us believe that they have full command of English language idioms.  Apparently they think these children are idioms.  Apparently they think the entire human race are idioms!

The aliens go on to explain to their fellow Zorinians that sandwiches in the small fry’s  “carried lunch”  should be “made of bread” and that fruit should be eaten out of  the small fry’s “hands” and that “milk should be sent from home in a small vacuum bottle”. 

The aliens stressed that Zorinians should not confuse  “Small Frys”  with “small order of fries” even though both are equally delicious.

Let us move on (quickly!):

 Taste Tempters for Teens

After much concentrated  study, the aliens have ascertained that this is a fair representation of  the typical eating behavior of the human “teen”.  And they go on to state that “teen-agers are a mystery”  — adding that “boy or girl their appetites are immense” even “staggering.”   The report emphasizes that  human “teenagers” have a “bottomless appetite” and an “endless thirst.”  Information that probably raised a Zorinian eyebrow or two (or seven).

The aliens were careful not to get too close.

Next the aliens attempt to enlighten Zorinians about the mystifying behavior of:

Picnic Packables:

As you can see from this heading, when  it comes to alliteration, the aliens are definitely on-board the human-language train!  Even going so far as to use the word, “packables”.  Well they aren’t billions of years more advanced than us for nothin’!

At first, the aliens were in total disarray as to what the father figure pictured above was doing.  But after intensified study,  the aliens came to the conclusion that this particular human being’s lower appendages had collapsed by a whopping fifty percent (perhaps from carting around Picnic Packables?) and when that happens, human beings must squeeze a circular object with their “hands” for prolonged periods of time in order to restore proper appendage positioning.

The aliens got a good laugh out of this one!

Well that’s all we have time for today, Dear Reader, but rest assured there are plenty more Secret Studies by Zorinians about the Human Race hiding within the pages of 1960 cookbooks and I plan to expose every single one of them or be abducted trying!

That is my pledge to you.

Until next time . . . I love you

Thrift Store Find: Nuclear Cheese!

I was wandering around my local thrift store on the prowl for the weird, the crazy or the strange — keeping my eyes peeled for the unusual, when guess what I found!

An LP featuring the ominously cheerful Guy Mitchell! That’s what! 

A guy in Love Guy Mitchell Glenn Osser and his orchestra

The first line of the album blurb reads:

This charming collection of ballads by Guy Mitchel has a dual theme; all songs are concerned with romance, and all of them deal in a sense with nature and the outdoors!

I don’t know . . .  judging from the piercingly maniacal gaze of Guy’s baby hazels, I’d have to say Guy is a guy you don’t want to get involved with.  And when I say get involved with I mean accidentally bump into while waiting in line at Target because before you can completely utter the phrase “excuse me” — Guy will have fallen deeply, passionately and hopelessly in Stalker Love.  

And just when I was thinking, thrift store shopping just doesn’t get any better look what I found right underneath Guy!

Sing with the Four Roses Society

The Four Roses Society! A society consisting of eight of  cheesiest human beings to have ever so much as hummed.

If you’ll notice, all the men are drinking straight shots of whiskey, except for one man who is no doubt holding two bottles of Jack Daniels behind his back. (We can only hope.)

One of the songs listed on the album is “Home on the Range”  I like to think that’s what they were singing when this picture was taken.  Which would explain all the howling by the dog, them and you, the listener.

And finally, Dear Readers, just when I was thinking life, itself, doesn’t get any better  I found this!

Pasar Dalam

Pasar Dalam!  Whatever or whoever they may be!

The blurb on the album cover begins:

Wilt u lets welen over de background van deze plaat, wat betreft repetities enz ja . . .

I’ll try to translate this for you as best I can under the circumstances of me not knowing how to speak whatever language this is.  I believe it says:

Will you let us welen over the background of the van please? What? Why are you bereft about that? I’m tired of repeating myself, enz ja . . .

However riveting the above passage, this is not the reason it caught my eye.  I actually noticed the way the guy in the front row is holding up the lady in yellow —  I like to think her name is enz ja . . .

Until next time . . . I love you