"Every Laugh Means Money"

Every time Sid Smith makes a stroke of his pen, millions of people laugh.

You can't see them in this picture, though. They are standing behind the desk, just out of camera range. This is why Sid looks a little self-conscious. It is hard to work when people guffaw every time you make a little mark on a piece of paper. The noise is distracting. And they keep whispering and chatting and asking for more snacks.

But Sid has another problem, too. A rogue cartoon man named Andy with a tiny head has escaped from the funnies and is hanging around, kibitzing, giving Sid a headache with his sighing "Oh, Min!" every two seconds. And that's not all. He wants to tell Sid how to draw her, and what she ought to be saying ("Oh, Andy! I really love a man with a pinhead!") 

Andy and Min earn big money for Sid Smith every day.

Well, maybe - when they're not hanging around his desk wasting time. Federal Schools ought to tell people how to get the cartoon characters motivated to go out and actually do some work. Maybe they could take the comic strips over to the newspaper office.

And while they're at it, they might want to usher all those millions of people out of Sid's workroom. Just tell them the reporters down at the Bugle have better doughnuts.

Many, many thanks to Modern Mechanix for this glimpse into Sid's thrilling life (from Physical Culture, March 1922).

Kitten With A Whippie

No groovier product
Than hair stuff in a can
Has ever been made for the Kids by the Man

Hey beatnik, it's heavier
Than double spelt bread
And never was there a more Grateful Head

For conditioner drips
When you're high on good karma
Your freak flag is flying but soap's messing your dharma

Though alternative lifestyles
May include tilting-head power
To avoid getting stuff in your eyes in the shower,

The Establishment thinks
It would be very funny
To see the Young Folks spend a whole lot of money,

For aerating makes volume
So what looks like a lot'll
Be half what you got when it came in a bottle

So draw headbands and peace signs
To make your head trippy;
But one thing is quite clear: no true hippie is Whippie.

[From LiveJournal.]

Fun Fact: the Urban Dcitonary says that whippie is now used to mean a wealthy hippie - a hippie-crite, you might say. And Mr. Whippy is British (and New Zealander) ice cream - there was a Mr. Whippy truck in A Hard Day's Night, that's how I know. And I took the title from the 1964 Ann-Margret movie, link here.

Typewriter Follies Of 1940, Starring the Big Dither

I guess if that's what a manual typewriter makes you do, I ought to be doing a big MGM type song and dance all around the house, since I have spent the morning assessing old drafted chapters from the various versions of The Mystery Novel.

But since I do not own a large pole or a plastic cylinder thing - or know an office boy with a drum - I will probably just sing a little. Quietly, though.

From now on, I'm probably going to intersperse the slightly-better-thought-out comic posts with little dispatches like this, because I hate the thought of closing down Kitchen Retro. I mean, it may come to that as I put in the hours necessary to really get a working version of TMN going but - I love my blogs. I really do. But I was looking at my dashboard this morning and realized that I have over 600 Virtual Dime Museum posts and over 700 Kitchen Retros, which is a lot of blathering, isn't it?

I am never sure about the idea of a writing blog to correspond to TMN, because with mysteries you do not want to give away TMI (har har) - but maybe I'll end up doing something more closely linked to creative writing and just update the present blogs, say, once a week or so. Oh, but then I'm back to 3 blogs and that's no good, no good at all.

Or perhaps I will just do one blog about writing and books I read, since reading more is one of my goals this year too (and that helps with writing, of course). I've joined a challenge to read at least 4 Victorian novels this year (I believe I can do that, at least!) - but Victorian matters belong on my other blog, I guess. Sigh.

I'll keep you posted.

Advertisement from Life, 1940, big version here.

Peas Peas Me

No no, this is not what has you blushing. Please pick a better, less annoying reason from the following:

I am blushing and ineffectually hiding my face with my hands because

a. I have matched my dress and my shoes to coordinate with a box of frozen peas (including the yellow accents, so have clearly given this a lot of thought).

b. I made a horrible looking dinner and splotched it with those self same peas, like acne on a face.

c. I have just realized that when he says things like 'he's never seen or tasted anything quite like this!' that it isn't necessarily quite as positive as I had thought a minute ago.

Feel free to add a reason d, if something pops into your head. Otherwise, have a good Monday and I'll see you all later. I can't believe I updated both blogs on the same day. That just isn't going to happen very often anymore. I blame Monday, though do not know why yet. I'll think of something!

You can see a bigger version of this lovely 1948 ad here. And for no other reason than the title pun and, well, I feel like posting a video, here's a classic Beatles clip that is way, way better than a box of frozen peas:

The Importance of Ovaltine

Hooray! here comes Mummy
With more Ovaltine
I'll pour it on Colin
Who hasn't quite seen

He's busily gulping
And quite unaware
That soon there'll be malted
All over his hair

But Mummy suspects
That my motives are cryptic
She looks awfully grim
Perhaps it's the lipstick

I smeared on this morning -
I look nearly forty!
Never mind, it's what ladies
Wear when they are naughty.

And that's what I am,
As Mummy well knows
So have some more Ovaltine,
Colin - here goes!

[From the British magazine My Home, December 1955.]

The Green Stampede

It's Friday, let's play a game! How many of the "lovely gifts" from Green Stamps can you find in Mrs. Irish's house? I've made this one extra-large so you can see better.

I'm guessing the pink plastic grapes and the orange dishes that match the plastic oranges (I think they came as a set).

The doggie? The Where-the-Wild-Things-Are Scary Plant in the background? You be the judge.

If you can't see anything interesting, feel free to make things up.

Slightly boring Fun Fact: I went to the Green Stamps store once with my mom in the late 60s - yup, there was at least one in Manhattan! And I don't remember much, but there seemed to be a lot of brass tube-y items like cheap TV stands. I don't think we went back after the one time. But she used to paste those Green Stamps in the little books like nobody's business. Did anyone else go to the Green Stamps store? Do tell!

******
My friend Barbara at the delightful if I didn't have a sense of humor has asked some of us to post a favorite picture on their blogs. Now about a million years ago I posted some family photos over at Virtual Dime Museum, my history blog, and one of my favorite photos ever happens to be over there...so I am going to direct you to this photograph, taken in the early 1890s at Rockaway Beach in Queens, which features my grandmother and her brothers and sister.

******
I said it over on Virtual Dime Museum but it probably bears repeating, because I know that not everyone reads both blogs - I am working seriously on a mystery novel (which takes place in Victorian-era Brooklyn, with a female detective, so VDM links up with my research pretty well, mostly). I am really having to consciously allocate daily work time for it. So - I will really try to keep up with all of my favorite blogs, and comment when I can, and Twitter (and do a little bit of  EC)  - when I can, just not as much as before...

The Treatwich Anniversary

Well, is Wednesday an anniversary? Hmmm. Let's see. Not this one. And not most Wednesdays. Unless you say today's an anniversary of last Wednesday. That's true. Is it an excuse for cake and a party? No, not really.

But is it an excuse for a Treatwich?

And what might that be, I hear you ask (I know you're not really asking, but let's pretend you are). I believe it's a sandwich, but involves the following variables:

- "a different kind of bread" (I've got two kinds, stale and fresh, which do you think he'd like?)
- "his favorite spread" (I've got peanut butter or a bedspread, so let's go with the former)
- "the meat he likes best" (if you're a vegetarian, you're out of luck, no treatwich for you!)
- oh, and lots of plastic processed cheese!

What sort of process goes into this cheese product? Never mind. It has "really rich cheese flavor." And it has little olive slices for eyes, winking up at you. What a treat. "When lunchtime comes, he'll get the message!" Ah, the message. What sort of message would that be? let's do the math:

1. Different Bread + Favorite Spread + Liked Meat Product + Fake Cheese = Treatwich. Please explain why fake cheese is an integral part of this equation, if you can.

2. Wednesday + Treatwich = Anniversary of X. Please determine the nature of X, using your imaginative powers.

3. Now multiply the number of fake cheese slices in the Treatwich to estimate the dimensions of Y, the Expected Anniversary Present.

4. And finally, calculate the number of weeks the Treatwich may be deployed as a gift-inducing scheme. Please show your work.

Advertisement (Good Housekeeping, October 1965) thanks to the wonderful TJS Labs.

Sheep Of Fools

Little Boy Blue
Leave your muffiny house
Wake up and do something,
Give that hussy a blouse.

Yes, some girl in her skivvies
With glances perturbing
Is upsetting the sheep
But what's more disturbing

Your sheep look like people
All a-smirkin' and struttin',
Look like Danny Kaye's cousins,
If his cousins were mutton.

How does she do it?
Those sheep must like floozies;
So they're trotting to Hollywood
To audition for movies.

Must we all wear this get-up
If we shepherd a flock?
Yes, if you want to wow movie folks,
Or else livestock.

[Ad courtesy of Retro Ads and Graphics. I really like Danny Kaye by the way, he was amazing in White Christmas and Hans Christian Andersen. But when I saw those sheep faces that's who I thought of - I don't know why the sheep have to have human faces. This gal, by the way, is the cousin of the Three Bears floozy.]

Toast-Trouble At Our House

One more crack about burnt toast, Mr. Smith, and you'll lose a perfectly good wife! What do you expect from an old toaster like ours?

This isn't just about the toast, one suspects. In two succinct lines, Mrs. Smith has implied that:

1. She's sick of his horrible jokes.
2. She, in contrast, is "perfectly good" - unlike him and his rude cracks about the food.
3. He has not supplied the home with sufficiently shiny and new things. In fact, it is quite a flophouse - and he's lucky she didn't elaborate.

So what will Mr. Smith do? Apologize? Offer to have a balanced and therapeutic discussion? No - it's off to the appliance store instead, where spending money makes everything right again. Mr. Smith turns to the psychologically wise salesman, who has a bunch of shiny things to unload on the customers. Mr. Smith plays right into his hands, in fact:

We're having toast-trouble at our house. If you've got a toaster that couldn't burn toast on a bet, that's the one for me. [Translation: I need a toaster that so fool-proof that even Mildred can't louse up the toast.]

Ah, toast-trouble. It's a common marital problem. Next will come the revolt of the rissoles, the kitchen-counter-revolution and, finally, the dinner-hour casserole catastrophe.

So Mr. Smith brings home a Toastmaster and says to the strangely-radiant Mrs. Smith, "This ought to solve the problem, dear."  [Translation: This ought to shut you up. I hope. Although my jokes about burnt toast really were very funny.]

And yet - the next morning, she comes out with this very curious statement. Not unadulterated coos of joy about her marvelous new Toastmaster toaster, oh no:

"John, I can't bear it! You're mild as a lamb every morning. What'll I do, now that you don't have burnt toast every morning?"

What does she mean, what'll I do? Did she like the burnt-toast jokes after all? Maybe that toast-trouble was keeping things  - exciting. Time to break out the emergency box of Rice Krispies.

[Horrifyingly big version here, from Life, February 19, 1940.]

Still Life With Radio, Envelope, Wise Guy and Nylons

[A 50s Classified Ads Poetry Prompt]

The Tinytone's annoying noise
Its tintinabulating voice
Will magic in my pocket work
And drive my neighbors quite berserk
They cannot tell whence comes the din
That never needs to be plugged in.

So I will sit and think upon
Addressing envelopes for fun!
And profit too; if every schnook
Who sent for the instruction book
Thought to increase their income bracket
They'd set up their own dollar-booklet racket.

Then some big wise guy on the train
Says the Tinytone drives him insane
"Well," says I, "I am still the king
Of noisy toys that buzz and ring!
My book about Police Jiu Jitsu
Will soon teach me just how to blitz you..."

This did not alleviate his distress
My own required a cold compress.
So I abandoned thoughts of violence
To write up orders for cheap nylons
I hope they will not run or snag
But if they do, pray do not nag:
 
Just send your disenchantment on
To the Kendix Corp. of Babylon.

[From Popular Science, December 1951.]

Kreml and Punishment

You don't have to wear a wig to have "Toupée Hair."

And you don't have to look like a store mannequin.
You don't have to look like you're wearing eye makeup with that fake mustache.
You don't have to wear that toupée.
You just don't.

Why do you look like this?
Is it because you use too much water when you shampoo?
As the Kreml people say:

Stop soaking your head with water every time you want to comb your hair.

Just stop that right away. All that water is bad, bad, bad for you. You know where it's got you? Looking like a mannequin zombie. With Moe's Three Stooges hair, after it went to the beauty parlor for a perm, stuck on your head. And a false mustache you stole from a rogue barbershop quartet.

And a giant wax doll's head.

This is not a good look. You know it and so do we. No wonder you look a trifle depressed. Fortunately, Kreml is here to cheer you up.

Kreml is "a marvelous oil-tonic." Exactly what you need! Once you start using it, you will not require white eyeshadow from the 1960s. And you will be happy:

It is a joy to use, and a boon to sufferers from "Toupée Hair."

As for your other issues, Kreml does not know what to tell you. But not soaking your head in buckets of cold water is a good start, anyway.

]This bizarre 1935 ad is from Ad Access, large version here (or rather over there, at Ad Access)].

A Snapped Crackled Pop

Let's just take this ad one bit at a time. That is about all anyone can handle, I think.

1. She was a wise one, my mother. She'd never said boo to dad in the morning...

No one wants anyone else to say "BOO!" to them in the morning, so I guess I'm with the dad on that point. But surely, refraining from saying boo to people is not evidence of superior wisdom. Mother, you will have to do better than that if you want to join Mensa.

2. ...until Kellogg's Rice Krispies told him off when he poured on milk or cream.

So it is OK for the cereal to say boo? And not only say boo, but actually tell him off? Folks, cereal doesn't generally have anything to say in the morning. Or any time. Blame grumpiness - or the fact that it's an inanimate foodstuff, but crunching and crackling just isn't a conversational gambit.

3. Dad's growl always changed to a grin as these scamps chattered up at him.

And speaking of grumpiness: Dad has got a little anger-management problem (like many guys in old ads). Either that, or he is in actual fact a bear, and this is his natural way of verbalizing. Goldilocks had better stick to porridge and not try to grab dad's Rice Krispies. They may be delicious, but growling usually means stay well back. Ask David Attenborough or that Mutual of Omaha guy from the 60s.

4. "Snap! Crackle! Pop!" they'd scold. "Laugh! Chuckle! Laugh!" he'd answer.

First he growls. Everyone is scared. Then he starts interacting with the cereal, ordering it to laugh and chuckle? Oh boy, that is even worse. Everyone clear out, dad's getting loopy with the cereal again.*

5. Then mother would let us all talk.

But strangely enough, we were all speechless by now.

Want the terrifyingly big version of this 1954 cereal incentive? Right here!

*This is why mother has hidden the Fruit Loops, probably.

Doc Glueky Is In the House

Let YOU repair my furniture? Like I'm going to let an adhesive-obsessed friend of Snow White's into my house, armed with a bottle of  super-glue. No thank you, Doc "Glueky." I guess that is an in-joke, your name. I don't get it though.

What sort of doctor are you, anyway? If you cannot remember your pants in the morning, I hardly think that you are up to making diagnoses. Still, I suppose that it is nice of you to offer to repair my furniture (though the implication that it is all falling down around us is a trifle rude, you must admit).

Perhaps the Wicked Queen could hire you to glue her magic mirror back together. And you might want to suggest a course of self-esteem-based therapy as well. Or maybe you could repair a few gingerbread cottages. The Necco Wafer roof tiles do tend to fall off when it rains (they melt, too, but that's another problem). And Grace the Card Table Lady from yesterday's post could have availed herself of your services before rushing out to buy new card tables. She might want to work on the whole issue of peer pressure, too, while you're at it.

From Popular Science, April 1941.

Social Blunder No. 1

Much may depend on dinner, but even more depends on card tables.

Imagine this: you're a 1940s housewife named Grace, and you're sitting in the diner a booth away from a group of your most catty and particular friends. Why are you sitting there alone in the first place? Hard to say. Maybe you're waiting for someone.

Or maybe - just maybe - you are being ostracized because of the bridge party you held the other day. You must have spent too long on the toast wheelbarrows and not enough time on checking how the furniture is holding up.

You can't help but overhear what they are saying: 

She's a lovely hostess, but those shabby old card tables are a disgrace!

Shabby card tables are Social Blunder No. 1. They spoil the fun of a party!

I thought I'd burst holding back my laughter when her table collapsed and hot tea fell on Mrs. Brown's lap!

I'm surprised her husband stands for it! It's a sign of poor housekeeping!

And Grace thinks: How can they be so HORRID! 

Yes, Grace, they certainly are a horrid bunch. No doubt about it. In fact I believe that Social Blunder No. 2 is dissing someone when they're in earshot. And Social Blunder No. 3? Mrs. Brown could tell you that one, I bet: someone getting hot tea dumped in their lap is not cause for hilarity, you horrid hussies!

Then later that same day.... 

Grace went home and told her husband about that shocking experience; she couldn't bear facing her friends again...BUT...

But of course she sends her husband down to the store to buy some - everybody, all together now! - Samson Card Tables! There is a strange, unnerving gleam in her eye as she tells him: 

You go right down and buy 2 or 3! We'll show those women!

Oh, we certainly will. And we'll also make sure Mrs. Brown is in charge of the boiling hot tea next time, too.

[From Life, February 19, 1940; big version here.]

Under Hormel Conditions

What is that sizzling sound I hear?
Get up! It's Spam and eggs, my dear.

Get up and face a monstrous fate,
This ruthless Spam-filled china plate

Which hovers right above the bed
And aims directly at my head.

I do not like Spam in my face
I do not like it any place;

I do not like the parsley there
Nor plastic eggs that seem to stare

Unblinkingly at gentlemen
Awakened at Not Yet a.m.

Yes, frightening is that smile so bright
Appalling in its grand delight

She from the kitchen daily springs
With plates of mottled oblong things

He vows to hold his head and neck fast
Concealing them from such a breakfast:

Please go, and take your ersatz ham:
I do not like fried eggs and Spam.

[From Vintage Ad Browser.]

Important: Please Read! And Update Too

A kind reader has just let me know that when he visited Kitchen Retro recently there was some malware on one of the widgets. I am trying to fix this as quickly as I can and I really hope that no one else has has this problem. I am taking some of the widgets off the blog and am going to try to clean things up and find out what's going on. My apologies to anyone who has had to deal with this and I'll keep you as updated as possible...

UPDATE: I have just taken Statcounter off my sites, because I just ran a virus check on my computer and boy, was there a lot of malware coming from Statcounter - which I only just put on my sites a couple of weeks ago. Never again! Am going to keep checking but - fingers crossed - this may well have been the problem.

I've also cleaned my own computer of some malware stuff and put various ad and flash block add-ons onto Firefox. I will do more of this as I go, but am cleaned up as far as I can go, for now.

I am also thinking that maybe the malware came via an Entrecard blog. That is totally possible, as many people have had this problem in the past. Therefore, I will be limiting my EC drops in future (there's a time element there, too, as you EC people know!) - I realize that this won't necessarily solve the problem but should make things safer all around. I was returning everyone's drops (as much as I could) but in the light of this issue that is not a good idea. If anyone on EC has advice on dealing with malware I'd be grateful to hear it. Am going to continue to monitor things and if you do have a problem please let me know (and apologies, as I've said, in advance).

ANOTHER UPDATE: I've put the Ad Block, Flash Block and No Script add-ons on and also something Firefox has called Web of Trust (WOT). Been on a bunch of news sites and blogs, everything checked out with the little WOT icon. BUT when I went to Entrecard it was yellow and rated it "Unsatisfactory"!! So I got off of there. I would like to e mail them but do not want to get back on the site. Just want to let people know - I mean, I never heard of WOT before today but it did not like the EC dashboard at all. Anyone have any experience with this?

So Much Depends On A Toast Wheelbarrow

So - the toasted wheelbarrow.

This work of genius is from Sadie LeSueur, the lady responsible for the Lifesize Rice Hen (and many other dreadful yet comical things, but we can't do them all at once, it would be too much in every sense of the word). You may have been wondering how to serve up that creamed chicken stuff you will be giving the ladies after bridge. Or creamed tuna after canasta. Either one.

Don't, don't just shovel creamed something-or-other into a pastry shell or a vol au vent, please! It will be so much more cunning to serve it in little toasted-bread wheelbarrows. And Sadie will tell us just how to make them. This is exactly what she wants us to do: 

TOAST WHEELBARROWS

Body - 3 1/4 x 2 1/4 x 2 inches - cut 1
Handles - 1 3/4 x 1/2 x 12 inches - cut 2
Legs - 1 3/4 x 1/2 x 1/2 inches - cut 2
Wheel bars - 1 3/4 x 1/2 x 1/2 inches - cut 2
Wheel - 3/8 inch thick; 1 1/2 inches in diameter - cut 1

Use one day old, unsliced bread. Cut pieces according to measurements. Snip out the inside of the box shaped body to form a container, using scissors to remove the bread. Leave a half inch wall. Dry out all parts of wheelbarrow in oven, but do not toast at this time. Fasten legs to back end of body with toothpicks, letting one end of toothpick go through the leg and the other end go through the body using the entire toothpick for this. Fasten handles on in horizontal position at the upper edge of the body in the same manner. Stick toothpicks at the top edge of the body in a slanting position; fasten wheel bars to these toothpick extensions; put wheel between bars; press bars against wheel and fasten in place with a short piece of toothpick. 

The wheelbarrow is now ready to be brushed with melted butter and toasted in the oven to a light brown. Fine textured bread is best to work with when making wheelbarrows. These can be filled with creamed chicken and mushrooms and are very attractive.

Everybody still awake? Anyone completely exhausted just reading this? Yes? I think that's everybody.By the time you're ready to brush the Wheelbarrows with melted butter, you'll be ready to lie down on the couch for a few days with a magazine tented over your head.  I know I would be.

But let's say you did manage to make six or eight of these. You might want to use wheelbarrows as your theme for dinner, too - why not, after all the time you have spent cutting out little wheel bars from bits of bread? Popular Mechanics (February 1945) to the rescue with their Ranch Style Salad Service, complete with salad-in-a-wheelbarrow and a chicken-coop sort of thing for the crackers.

Spry ad from Life, July 26, 1954. I added the wheelbarrow thing at the bottom, it didn't really say that, of course. And thank you, William Carlos Williams, for the title idea.

The large version of the salad wheelbarrow and friends article is here and here. I'm warning you, though, it looks like a lot of work. The guy in the second page has big circles under his eyes.

The Comical Cigarette

Oh, at last. Finally. At last at a popular price! Because you can just imagine how exclusive and expensive this used to be, right?

It is just what we've all been waiting for: a cigarette dispenser/ashtray that looks like a toilet. When you pull the string attached to the tank, a cigarette pops out. What a joker that cigarette is.

It's comical - attractive - useful.

Comical? Depends on how much you've had to drink. Attractive? That's a comical idea right there. Useful? I guess.

Whatever shall we do with this thing?

Why, put it in the den! Show it to your party guests, it'll get everyone making the most sparkling conversation you can possibly imagine. But only have fun with this at "parties in the home." Do not pack it up and take it someone else's party. That would not be fun at all.

I saw something a lot like this once in the early 1970s. It was just the ashtray part. And they kept in in the bathroom on top of the toilet tank, not in the den. It was not attractive or fun though.

[From Billboard (where else?), December 18 1948.]

On The (Makeup) Case

Oh, so DuBarry discovered it, did she? That must be the Sherlock Holmes in pink chiffon wearing pink lipstick. And pink earrings. I see she has a magnifying glass (not pink).  Must have left the pink deerstalker hat at home. Or maybe that's missing, too.

Her detecting style? Groping around a black velvet backdrop, while making serious eye contact with the camera. It's not everyone's style, but this is how she solves a tough case. That's not a vacuous look on her face, it's her Deep Thinking Expression. Where did all the pink makeup go? Where IS it?

Um, the Missing Pink is not missing. It is right there. Hiding in plain sight. Nice twist. I'm really  looking forward to the sequel, Maybe It's Maybelline: or, The Mystery of the Hidden Blemishes.

Of Rice and Hen

In 1958 a lady called Sadie LeSueur wrote a book called Recipes, Party Plans and Garnishes,which tells you all sorts of things such as how to make toast look like wheelbarrows, and cabbages look like Spook Heads - and rice look like a life size hen.

Yes, it is true! Your rice need not look like a dish of rice at all. And as for making a simple ring mold out of it - hah! That is too boring for Sadie. She thinks that your guests deserve more. She writes: 

I have found that having a variety of molds for the food adds a great deal to any party...but the mold that attracts the most attention is one in the shape of a life-size hen. A rice hen surrounded by turkey hash and a garnish of parsley is always attractive for the main course. When the hen is unmolded on a platter I attach a bright red comb, cut from a pimento, to the top of her head, make eyes of cloves and paint her bill with yellow fruit coloring.

Yes, a lifesize rice hen will attract attention all right. Your guests will fall about laughing. Just imagining this spectacle gave people a case of serious giggles when I read this passage aloud.

But why is the rice hen surrounded by turkey hash, and not chicken hash? Perhaps chicken hash would be too distressing. And what about the wattle? I checked to see of hens actually have combs (they do) because I am a city kid and know nothing of hens, real or molded. They have combs and they have wattles on their little necks. Maybe you could make a wattle out of Jell-O.

I tried to find a picture of a Lifesize Rice Hen, but alas, Sadie did not include pictures in her book; and other people did not make them - or if they did, they refused to leave photographic evidence.

What I do have is an advertisement for Jell-O, endorsed by a hen; and an ad for a fabulous 1962 career opportunity in which you make a fortune ("turn concrete into gold") making beautiful "ornamental concrete hens." (For additional profits, you may want to paint their bills with yellow food coloring and attach some pimento combs.)

The Jell-O loving hen seems to be reciting the old nursery rhyme about Higgledy Piggledy, except that this hen is called Hickety and is, er, a hepcat. Hephen. This reminded me of one of my favorite Dorothy Parker poems, which will conclude this hen post perfectly:

Higgledy Piggledy, my white hen
She lays eggs for gentlemen;
You cannot persuade her with gun or lariat
To come across for the proletariat.

[The cement hen ad is from Popular Mechanics, November 1962; the Jell-O ad is from Life, November 14, 1955. Title from the 1953 Looney Tunes cartoon, a play on Of Mice and Men.]

Song of the Empty Ketchup Bottle

I wandered lonely as a bottle
That floats along in solitude
When all at once I saw tomatoes
Come bobbing past: "What's happening, dude?"
They called to me; I said at once,
"I think we're in a place called Hunt's."

Continuous as the stars that shine
Tomatoes floating everywhere;
Why did the factory make you swim,
What sort of river brought you there,
Dispatched from your ancestral vine,
Straight onto the production line?

Tomatoes! You are innocent
Of devious harvest plans to fetch up
Enormous quantities of you
The end goal being loads of ketchup;
And after you are minced and throttled,
In boiling vats, you shall be bottled.

O Hunt's! so fussy, as you say
About your wee vine-ripened friends
Tomatoes sailing through your maw
The saucy means to Huntsian ends;
How do I know these things are true?
Recycled bottle. Déjà vu.

[With apologies to William Wordsworth, who was inspired by some lovely daffodils, since he was born too early for Hunt's tomatoes.]

I got the actual scan from Life, December 20 1963 (at Google Books) but I actually found this ad thanks to my friend Thomas MacEntee who kindly pointed me towards Vintage Ads; this ad was there but it looked a little fuzzy, so I scanned it elsewhere. A really big version is here.

Oh, and it is Retro Tuesday! Yes. I forgot again. But it isn't too late, it's still Tuesday - so I'm in! This is hosted by my friend Tracy at The Crazy Suburban Mom. She has some amazing ads today, ranging from the frightening to the fabulous - so please go visit!

Sic Transit Gloria Magic Mummy

It may have been a little hasty of Murgatroyd's PR people (AKA the Franco American Novelty Company) to say that he was a bigger phenomenon than the King Tut Magic Mummy. There wasn't anything bigger than this in the novelty line in the late 1940s! King Tut had Mystery Action, for one thing, which is more than motionless Murgatroyd had. Plus he came in bright colors like Blue Raspberry Popsicle blue or Chemical Green Apple green. And his sarcophagus has that snappy red lining.

And please note the WARNING on the ad (from Billboard, December 18, 1948):

The manufacturer of the original KING TUT MUMMY is going to prosecute to the full extent of the law all imitators and infringers of this item. Be on the safe side buy the original in the blue and orange box called KING TUT, THE MAGIC MUMMY.

Or else! Or else you may find a few hundred of these things flying through the air to give you a smack on the head!

Well, but what does King Tut do? Oh, he comes to life with Mystery Action, that's all! You have to help, though. Just keep him in the plastic sarcophagus and then hand him over to someone else. He will fly right out of there, pronto. 

This is sort of like being half asleep on Monday morning and then realizing that there is coffee nearby. So you jump up, of course! Without flying through the air. Mostly. I wish I knew King Tut's secret. My theory is that it involves caffeine in some way.

Actually, I can tell you the secret because I found the patent, here. It has to do with magnets, one in a false bottom of the sarcophagus (if you want more details by all means please click on over to the patent and enjoy). If you want the mummy to stay put you tilt the sarcophagus so that the correct magnets line up. Hand it over to an unsuspecting friend, who will hold it lying flat - and King Tut jumps up like a Starbucks barista just called out that his Gingerbread Latte is ready for pick up.

You can see a picture and description of a green King Tut Magic Mummy here at Time Passages Nostalgia. The picture of the blue one is from Byemylife. Thanks to them, and to Rob's Puzzle Page, too, which cited the 1949 patent for this toy. They still make these today, by the way. And the gingerbread latte is from here, of course.

The Lizard of Awes v. Murgatroyd: Battle of the Plastic Lizards

Plastic lizards were in fashion - in kitschy circles - back in the summer of 1949. Apparently. How else to explain all the advertisements for them? Either they were popular or someone had a lot of plastic lizards left over from...something. I don't know what.

Anyway, for all the witty pun-lovers, there was the astonishing Lizard of Awes. Prepare to be stricken with awe as he - Jumps! Wiggles! Squirms! Wow, that really is awesome. And that's just the beginning, folks. This Beverly Hills native, made of genuine LA plastic, will also do - uh, nothing. That's it, really. Just admire him. He is a celebrity. He's the Lizard of Awes!

Maybe Murgatroyd can take up the slack here. Now, Murgatroyd is a New Yorker, so he is probably pretty tricky and urbane. You can "make yourself a load of dough" with him, because he is the "original lizard." Take that, Lizard of Awes! Murgatroyd was out there being fabulous when you were just a little plastic tadpole. Why, apparently Murgatroyd is even more of a profit maker than the King Tut Magic Mummy. That is why he is a little bit more expensive than the Lizard of Awes (40 cents more per dozen, to be exact).

The Franco American Novelty Co. begs you - and Murgatroyd begs you as well - do not buy imitations! Murgatroyd is the original, the only, the best! And - what does he do? Does he wiggle and jump like the L of A?

No. No, no. He simply IS. With a name like Murgatroyd, what else does he have to do but just stand around and look cool?

[Murgatroyd is from Billboard, July 9, 1949 and the L of A is from Billboard, Jun 11, 1949. As for the king Tut Magic Mummy, we'll check in on him later on this week. Because two plastic lizards' worth of kitsch is enough for one post, don't you think?]

The Faculty of Fine Eggs

Here's one more New Year's resolution we all may want to consider. Everybody put on your best apron, raise your right arm high and repeat after the little lady at the left:

I'll always make my cup custards with FINE EGGS!

They don't have to be perfect eggs, just - fine. But how do you know if your eggs are fine? The answer that springs to mind is simply to ask them how they are. The polite egg will always say: oh, I'm fine, how are you? And that is how you know.


Also, make sure that you are fine as well, before attempting to make custard. And if everything and everyone is fine, then go ahead. Oh, it's going to be a great year, 2010. It'll be our year for getting things done! And what are we going to do? We will, of course, be making many, many cup custards.

Which brings to mind another resolution: buy custard cups, immediately. And we'll all sing:

Should older eggs just be forgot
When dessert time comes to mind?
We'll make a cup of custard yet
'Cause I'm sure those eggs are fine.

This 1941 ad, from Woman's Day, is from the wonderful TJS Labs (where you can see this in a larger size, and maybe take down the recipe).