Welcome Dear Readers! Good News! You are just in time for our Slightly CreepySeventies Fix, where we look at pictures from the seventies that make us shudder and feel slightly sick to our stomachs because they are so weird and creepy.
It’s the kind of perverse pleasure only the Slightly Creepy Seventies can provide!
Today we’ll be making fun of this treasure from 1970:
“Well, honey, I like the new Seventies kitchen remodel, sure, but where will we put our books?”
Nothing epitomized a Seventies carefree childhood like a random ladder to nowhere.
And no Seventies bathroom remodel worth it’s weight in Mr. T gold chains was complete without a primitive seventies tanning bed.
And of course, every Seventies remodel had to feature a pool made out of horrendous “bricks of the seventies!”
We all love Edgar Allan Poe,it’s just that sometimes he tends to get a bit carried away! Oh great, here he comes. Now whatever you do, please, please don’t get him started on Annabel Lee . . . too late! Now you’ve gone and done it!
“What? Did somebody say Annabel Lee? It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea . . . “
Just for future reference, Edgar, saying many and many is the same thing as saying many – I know you’re into writing so I thought I’d pass that along.
“That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee”
No, I don’t know her, but I have heard of her.
“And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me”
Uh . . . OOOKAAY . . .
“I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea”
Really? Google says you were 27 and she was 14, but nevermind, keep going.
“But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee”
Shouldn’t it be: “My Annabel Lee and I”?
“And this was the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee”
So you’re telling me the wind was jealous of you and Annabel Lee? Oh something’s blowing alright, Edgar, but I’d have to say it probably involves smoke, a skirt and the direction of up — if you know what I mean.
“So that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me”
Uh, I have a feeling those high-born kinsmen were her parents, and if they were smart, they didn’t let her play with you anymore.
“To shut her up in a sepulchre, in the kingdom by the sea”
Hold on a sec while I google sepulcher . . . Let’s see . . . it say s a small room or monument where a dead person is laid . . . WHAT? Am I missing something here?
“That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee”
Hold on! Whoa! OK, I don’t like the direction this is going in. I’m calling your psychiatrist.
“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”
It’s too late to be all cheery now, just get in the car, Edgar.
“Oh, the beautiful, Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee and so all the night tide, I lay down by the tide . . .”
Yeah sure, Edgar. You just keeeep telling yourself that. Watch your head . . . that’s right. What’s that Edgar? Where are we going? We’re just going for a drive, Edgar . . . it’ll be fun!
“Oh my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea . . .”
Listen, Edgar, why don’t I see if I can find a happy song on the radio . . . until we get there . . . not that we’re going to the Institute . . . no-no, we’re just going wherever the jealous wind blows us. . . it’ll be fun!
And there you have it, Dear Readers, yet another futile attempt by this blog to cheer up literature’s most gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of the Bible According to Gregory. Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday school this morning, shall we?
Biblical Wrestle Mania: Almighty God vs. Jacob the Ladder
Jacob was a twin who was born holding onto his brother’s heel. Why anybody even noticed this is odd because Jacob’s twin brother, Esau (pronounced Achoo) was born entirely red and covered with fur. A fact that Jacob’s parents were happy about because it meant they would never have any trouble telling them apart.
The twins’ mother, Rebekah, liked Jacob best because she was partial to children who didn’t shed; while their dad, Isaac, liked Achoo best because he preferred children who could double as a comforter in a pinch.
Jacob was a napper
One day, on his way to visit his relatives, Jacob saw a nice, big, fluffy stone (which in those days was called a pillow) and lay down to take nap. He dreamed God’s angels were going up and down on an escalator (which in those days was called a ladder).
In the dream, God told Jacob he was going to give him lots wives and kids and animals and slaves, which made Jacob so happy he told God he would kick back ten percent of his profits to Him.
When Jacob woke up from his dream, he consecrated his nice, big, fluffy rock pillow to God by pouring some consecrating oil on it which he always carried with him for impromptu consecratings.
One night, Jacob decided to take his family camping at the God Campgrounds down by the Jabbok River. So Jacob’s two wives, two concubines and his eleven children all crammed into the family ox cart. Jacob also brought along all his cattle, donkeys, sheep, goats, and slaves. Jacob was a notorious over-packer.
An Angel Picks a Fight
That night Jacob realized it was going to be way to noisy to sleep so he sent his family and his animals and his slaves across the Jabbok river. Then he fluffed up his rock and was just drifting off when an angel wearing a wrestling outfit showed up.
Jacob: May I help you?
Angel: I came to wrestle you.
Jacob: Wrestle me? I haven’t wrestled since high school.
Angel: You never forget how. It’s like riding a bike.
Jacob: Okay, give me a sec while I change into my wrestling garb.
Angel: Why did you bring your wrestling garb if you haven’t wrestled since high school?
Jacob: I like to be prepared, okay? You got a problem with that?
Angel: Well besides being three-sizes too small, your wrestling garb has consecrating oil stains all over it. I’m going to have to wrestle you to the ground just because you look so stupid.
Jacob: Oh yeah wing boy? Bring it!
Jacob then proceeded to get the angel in a half-nelson and started plucking out his feathers. The angel immediately cried uncle but when Jacob let go, the Angel sucker punched Jacob and dislocated Jacob’s hip. (The blow would have shattered Jacob’s hip if Jacob wouldn’t have been such a big believer in calcium supplements.)
Angel: Okay okay you win, Jacob. You can stop plucking out my feathers now!
Jacob: Not until you bless me!
Angel: I can only bless you if I change your name to Israel first.
Angel: Because that’s my favorite name, but I also like Karen. Would you rather be Karen?
Jacob: Fine. Call me Ishmael.
Angel: You mean Israel?
After the match, Jacob realized that the angel he had just wrestled with was God, and that Jacob had seen the face of God and yet he was still alive! So Jacob decided to name the place upon which he and God had wrestled, Peniel — which means “Thank God for Calcium Supplements.”
And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday school this week. Please check back next week to find out what Gregory learned in Sunday School.
Welcome Dear Readers! Today, let’s do something we haven’t done in a while. Let’s poke fun at albums covers! Let’s start with this one:
William Holden was a major movie star in the 50’s and 60’s and possibly even the 70’s. I’m not much of a researcher as I prefer to make up my own facts to save time, but anyway my point is — William Holden can’t paint!
Notice how that outfit Suzie is wearing isn’t anything like the one Bill is painting? (You don’t mind if I call him, Bill, do you?) Also, Bill doesn’t look very committed to the task. I have a feeling he’s holding a bottle of vodka in that hand we can’t see. Don’t you think so, Bill? (You don’t mind if I call you Bill do you?)
I don’t know how William Holden died, but a long time ago, I remember seeing a sign in someone’s bathroom that said “William Holden Slipped Here.” So I have a feeling his death was rather untoward.
Which is why we won’t go into it here, Bill, as this is a humor blog, and, as such, steers clear of unpleasant topics unless it’s laugh out loud funny like, say, the always popular topic of baby eating. But I digest . . .
Oh and you can’t see it, Bill, but on the very top of this album in the leftrightno left oh who cares corner, it says this album was recorded in “New Orthophonic” high fidelity. Which I guess means it’s for people who have to wear shoes on their ears for medical reasons. (Not really, I’m just making that up . . . at least I think I’m making it up . . .what do you think, Bill? )
Let’s move on to the super-cheery Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, shall we, Bill?
Okay, Bill, which one do you think is Tommy Makem? They all look alike to me, Bill. Do you think that maybe Tommy Makem is a Clancy half-brother? Maybe he’s the brother nobody knew about until Tommy came a’knockin’ at the door one day with a big announcement? A big announcement that . . . well we won’t go into that unpleasantness here, Bill, as this is supposed to be a humor blog and as such steers clear of topics about things like, say, the illegitimate makin’ of Tommy Makems.
Apparently, if one can believe the album blurb, the Clancy Brothers are Irish. There’s no mention of what Tommy Makem is. Who cares? He’s really starting to get on The Clancy Brothers’ nerves anyway. In fact, I think even though this album is called The First Hurrah! I have a feeling it’s The Last Hurrah! for poor ol’ illegitimate half-brother, Tommy Makems, don’t you think Bill?
But, Bill, let’s not worry about such things now, Let’s move on instead to An Hour of Tchaikovsky!
Okay, don’t look now, Bill, but this Tchaikovsky Groupie seems to have her hand hopelessly stuck in her hairdo! Naturally, she’s confused because she only used seven cans of hairspray on her hair — when she usually applies 43! ( Apparently Tschaikovsky’s been getting into the hairspray cabinet again, what are we going to do with him, Bill?)
But not to worry, she is still managing to keep her composure. How? Well, thanks to the magic of eight gallons of foundation and 3 pounds of eye shadow, three-quarters of a pound of lipstick and half a pound of potato salad. No wait . . . that was her lunch.
Okay, well as you can see, Bill, I’m starting to get confused. So I guess it’s just as well that we are completely out of Album Cover, fun-poking time! Gosh where does the time go? Where, Bill? Where?
“As you know, children, we always observe National Rubber Spatula Day here at Connie’s Kindergarten Cuisine Academy and–” Miss Connie’s announcement was interrupted by a collective moan from the classroom.
“And,” Miss Connie continued unfazed, “I therefore will be reading to you from Scraping By — the autobiography of Ted Flerk who you will remember is credited with inventing the rubber spatula.
Miss Connie calmly opened to page one and began reading in a clear, strong voice as several students rushed for the door that Miss Connie had had the presence of mind to bolt.
“The story of how it came to pass that fateful day in Mother’s kitchenette, when I, Ted Flerk, invented mankind’s most important baking utensil, the rubber spatula, is, I suppose, a tedious tale, or, more precisely, a thorough recounting, if you will, of—“
Suddenly a loud boom erupted from the back of the classroom. Miss Connie looked over the top of her reading glasses. Charles was out of his seat.
“If you’re thinking you’re going to bust down that door, Charles, you’ve got another thing coming.” Miss Connie said mildly. ” Now, put down that battering ram and return to your seat immediately!” Miss Connie continued reading.
” . . . the events leading up to the day I thought of inventing the Rubber Spatula, including what happened while I was physically inventing the rubber spatula, itself, in addition to a detailed accounting of my life up to that point– “
Suddenly there was a mighty crash and a tinkling of glass. Miss Connie calmly put her finger on her place in the book and looked up. Several girls were helping each other climb through the jagged glass of the broken classroom window. A line of students was quickly forming behind them. Miss Connie chose to ignore the interruption and continued reading.
” . . . and exactly how I, Ted Flerk, was able to scrape every type of bowl known to man leaving no detail undocumented. . . “
At 3:00 sharp, Miss Connie bookmarked her place in the book, turned out the lights of her now empty classroom and went home.
Hello Dear Readers. Sadly, it’s not always good times here at the blog. Sometimes we have to take time out from our fun to try to cheer up America’s most celebrated crybaby creative writer, Edgar Allan Poe.
So Edgar, what have you been up to lately? I hear you thought up another good idea for a story. Do you mind if I ask where the idea came from?
“It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived it haunted me day and night.”
Well, don’t let this hurt your feelings Edgar, but your brain is freakishly large, so it probably catches a lot ideas, it’s casting a big net as it were. But it doesn’t need to haunt you day and night, why don’t you go over to Nathaniel Hawthorn’s house and play Parcheesi. You had fun last time, didn’t you?
I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire.
Well, great! It sounds like you and Nathaniel had a lot in common then, so what’s the problem?
I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture — a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold.
Well now listen, Edgar, everybody has their little idiosyncrasies. Look at you with the freakishly large brain. I bet Nat didn’t hold that against you? You’d be happier if you were less judgmental.
I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, thus rid myself of the eye forever . . .
Ha ha Edgar! That’s the spirit! A little joking goes a long way to brightening up one’s mood!
But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to work.
Ha ha Edgar! Oh I’m so glad you’re finally learning how to be a bit more playful. And what a straight face you’re keeping too!
I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever . . .
Ha ha ha! I think you might have just stumbled upon your inner comedian, Edgar!
I turn the latch of his door and opened it — oh so gently! and then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head . . .
You mean because of your freakishly large brain? ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . . Oh I’m laughing so hard, Edgar, my sides are hurting . . .
It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed.
Ah hahahahaha! Oh that funny melon head of yours! Ha ha ha!
And I did this for seven long nights . . .
Look at you, Edgar! I am so proud of you! I think you are actually cheered up this time. In fact, let’s just cancel that cheering-up appointment for next Tuesday, shall we?
With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once — once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him . . . his eye would trouble me no more.
Okay, well, anyway, I gotta get going. Nice chatting with you.
He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
Oh. Well, as long as you’re feeling better, that’s the important thing, I guess. But maybe we better keep that cheering-up appointment after all. How does next Tuesday at 2:45 work for you?
Join us next Tuesday at 2:45 Dear Readers, when we will be continuing our ongoing effort to cheer up Edgar Allan Poe.