Song of the Magic Cheese Chips

Decidedly unusual?
Well, yes, we all agree
A chip that's made of Magic Cheese
Whatever that may be

Is not the usual sort of thing
You drop into hot grease
But this will make you smile all day
For profits will increase.

"No complicated work" unless
Hot oil's not your métier
Or unless a bubbling vat of orange
Bits gives you dismay.

No house-to-house! No large machines!
The stores will sell for you -
A goldmine made of Magic Cheese
For men - and women, too.

A big and fluffy mystery chip
Is what any bon vivant
Desires in a delightful snack:
It's just what people want!

Yes folks, this is the very thing
For easy part-time pay -
This frying gig relaxes you
After scrubbing pots all day.

What's in this Magic Cheese, you ask?
We really cannot tell
It's orange and it's salty
Perhaps that rings a bell.

Thank you Heather for the ad. I've seen some other fun Magic Cheese Chip ads, all from the early 1930s, so I guess this one is from then, too.

Tennis Fun With Dick and Jane

Dick and Jane are playing tennis. But they are not having any fun. Even though tennis is quite good fun.

What can be the matter?

Oh look. Dick has spotted Beth on the next court. Beth is smiling at the tennis instructor. See Beth's teeth sparkle in the sunlight!

Dick is really checking out Beth. Boy oh boy, what a smile! Now Dick is smiling too. He does not notice Jane.

Uh oh, Dick. Jane is mad as a wet hen.

Dick is not thinking clearly today. Otherwise he would not say that he finds Beth's smile quite fetching. No, Dick, no. Jane does not like this sort of conversation.

But Dick blunders on. He suggests that Jane use Dr. West's Toothpaste. Just like Beth does. Then Jane will have white teeth. Dick thinks that this advice will make Jane happy.

But Jane is not happy. She has had this problem with Dick before. She says: so this time it's her smile that you admire! Dick is a two-time loser.

Why look at Beth again, Dick? Why, Dick, why? You know that Jane is going to hit you with her tennis racket any second now.

But Dick is enchanted with Dr. West's Toothpaste. He cannot help himself. Dr.West's Toothpaste, after all, is Double-Quick.

Just like Jane and her tennis racket.

See Dick duck and run for cover. Run, Dick, run.

[From Ad Access, where there is a bigger version.]

The Mysterious Cupcake

I cannot resist a good bit of over-the-top hyperbole - especially when it comes with a surprise filling. This ad takes the cake, as it were. It was written by a frustrated poetic genius. He was also suffering from a sugar high, not surprisingly.

These little cakes are paradoxical: on the one hand, they only cost a dime and you can scarf them down while you watch Howdy Doody or stuff them in your lunchbox with that tired bologna sandwich. And they come in a cellophane wrapper. Very pedestrian, really.

On the other hand, consider "The Famous Hostess Secret-Blend Flavor of Chocolate from the African Gold Coast and the Blue-Green Jungles of Brazil." These Hostess people are serious gourmets, traveling the world to perfect their snack cakes. I guess you could almost believe this, as long as you hadn't actually tasted them.

And the Twinkies? They taste like they were baked "in a heavenly oven." You'd think they might want to put that sort of thing in a fancy box - not cellophane.

But then we come to the mystery of the filling, which Hostess likes to refer to as the "surprise inside." Oh, what can that be, do tell? Why, it is something referred to as "creamed-filling." Not cream. Creamed. Creamed something-or-other. Nobody is sure what it is. Aside from its being - surprising. Is it something the Hostess master chefs found in their culinary travels to the Blue-Green Jungles of Brazil? Whatever it is, they aren't saying.

[From Life, June 11, 1956, big version right here.]

Dobbs' Loud Hat

Suburban Zeppo, he's gone too far
He's just a turkey in a big pink car;
His suit is shiny, the wheels slide
Suburban 30s guy is going for a ride

But his old tweed suit is too demure -
A Gamebird hat from Dobbs is thus de rigeur
Splish splash, field and streamwards he will dash
The economy of fashion
Is an unforgiving passion -

Dobbs Loud Hat is a Town and Country steal
You will buy, you will buy, you will surely buy
Dobbs Loud Hat comes in Mallard, Grouse and Teal
Don't ask why, don't ask why, just go out and buy

In Newmarket
And Hopatcong
They all know that it won't be long
He counts his pennies
As he had oughter
And draws fedoras on his nice desk blotter -

The Dobbs are ready, they're in the store
They're $7.50, why not buy three or four?
Or special order them, you'll look so fierce!
The Dobbs Hat will fit over your ears.

Dobbs Loud Hat makes a man look really silly
But he'll buy, don't ask why, it's no use to try
Add a yellow Ascot, the excuse is being chilly,
And he'll buy, by and by, ads would never lie...

[From Life, November 6, 1939; am also making fun of "King's Lead Hat" by Brian Eno, from the album Before and After Science (1977) - an old college favorite of mine. I didn't parody the whole thing because I didn't want to test anyone's patience too much!]

Touché, Trushay!

Mind that plate, won't you, while you're checking out your manicure. And just so you know, an early model (i.e., Pre-Rhinestone-Age) Liberace is lurking there behind you. I have a different take on the Efficient You versus the Enchanting You, though:

Efficient Me:

I stumble into the kitchen in old jeans and a T shirt and cardigan. Observe that there are dishes in the sink, a cat meowing in front of its food and water (which look fine to me, but not to her), and all sorts of stuff on the table. What is that stuff, anyway? Huh. Maybe I should do those dishes. Maybe I should think about dinner. I look in the fridge and wonder what's in the plastic containers. What's for dinner, what, what? Try and think. But I am busy thinking about mystery plotlines and something I saw in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in 1883 and how we're almost out of laundry detergent and - aw, forget it...

Enchanting Me:

Hey, I "want to look my best for a BIG evening." Sure, why not? What's that, anyway? Takeout sushi and the Olympics on TV, probably. Maybe I will wear my formal jeans (no patches) and that T shirt I got secondhand that says "Vancouver 2010" on it. I could try and find that T shirt, I guess. I think it's in a drawer somewhere. And I am supposed to use Trushay hand lotion, because it will make me look Enchanting. Cannot find any Trushay lotion, as it is from 1950s. Will make do with whatever is around house. St. Ives is around, I think. Not enchanting, but it probably works. Wander off stage right, hunting for takeout menu and hand lotion.

[1950 ad is from Ad Access, where there's a big version.]

Mind the Airplane, Gertrude!

Boy, that airplane is flying a little close, isn't it? The happy orange people have not seen it, though. They are just too busy enjoying their very own Pleasure Island which Dr. Pepper gave them. That's not a bad gift, coming from a little can of soda, is it?

This is the sentence they want us to complete. Best answer takes the island (it's in the Bahamas, apparently):

Dr. Pepper heads the list of things I'd want on my Pleasure Island because....

(a) ...because otherwise I won't win the island, will I?
(b) ...because it tastes better than salt water!
(c) ...because it is the perfect beverage to drink with whatever we catch or fruits that bonk us on the head.


On a closer reading, I think you are just getting a trip there - not the title deed to the island or anything. But still. That could be good. However, Dr. Pepper is not heading my particular List of Things to take to an island retreat. My list includes Things like a Kindle, dark chocolate, a reservation for luxury accommodation and a boatful of money. Oh, and Diet Coke with Lime, sorry, Dr. Pepper. (Guess I would not have won this, anyway, I wasn't even born yet!)

How about you? What do you want to have the most on your island retreat?

[From Life, June 23, 1961, big version over here.] 

A Spoon For the Misbegotten

-Gee honey, that's swell. Look at that spoon! You are incredible!

-Yes, I can balance a spoonful of cereal right on one finger, see?

-I can't take my eyes off it! And if my hair wasn't slicked down with half a bottle of Crisco, it would be standing on end.

-Want to know my secret?

-Of course, dear.

-I put a dab of Elmer's glue on my index finger first. And now -

-Yes?

-I'm...just going to stay like this. It's quite fascinating. And - the Rice Krispies are really very...light. Nutritious, but - well, light.

-How are you planning to eat them? I mean, if the spoon's glued to your finger and all.

-I'm not planning to. Because - well, dear, maybe you didn't notice this but...the stylist for this photo shoot didn't use milk in our bowls.

-No? Why not? What stylist?

-Dear, this is an ad. Don't tell me you didn't know that! And there are a bunch of dry Rice Krispies sitting on top of what looks like yogurt, in our bowls. Those little Krispies sink in milk, you know. Well, eventually. And we've been sitting here a very long time.

-Wow, honey, you sure know a lot about breakfast! And science. Yogurt, huh?

-Or maybe they found my stash of Elmer's Glue in the cupboard. I can't take my eyes off the spoon so I wouldn't know.

[Rice Krispies ad from Life, July 9, 1956; Elmer's ad from Popular Mechanics, May 1952.]

The Kreml Three Stooges' Valentine's Day

Well, which Valentine are you?

SLICKER MOE

A love of Brylcreem and of oil
Will any head of hair bespoil
Moe adds a mustache and is able
To look like a shiny fake Clark Gable.*

FUZZY LARRY

Larry is terribly confused
And his hair is also much bemused
To see him in an awful rush:
He has not thought about a brush.

CURLY CURLY

No nyuk-nyuk-nyuk will come from him
His humor is quite stark and grim
Because his hat is smaller than his nostril
And as a cover-up is prepostril.

AND FINALLY...THE BONUS OUT-OF-CONTEXT ZEPPO!

Then there's the guy whose hair's a dreaml
Who smiles and primps and likes to beaml
He has a lot of self-esteeml
Because of course he uses  Kreml.

Happy V-Day from the Ersatz Three Stooges, and, of course, Kreml shampoo!

* Please note that at the bottom of the ad they say that Kreml is 80% olive oil! So how is that going to help Moe?

This 1942 ad is from Ad Access. Large version here.

The Kleenex Habit

If only Helen had made a habit of Kleenex, instead of - goodness, what HAS she been using to blow her nose? Those burlap handkerchiefs were clearly a big mistake. And now she has a Heavy Date. What can she do, besides coat her honker in layers of pancake makeup?

Luckily, she has - as do all 40s-ads cartoon gals - a "helpful" friend hanging around her boudoir.Who let her in, anyway? Did she climb through the window? At first I thought this was Helen's mother, but her mother definitely would know what was wrong (see #3).  Here's a quick guide to being a 40s Ad Friend:

1. Point out the obvious: "Gracious, Helen, your nose is red..."

2. Don't forget the unnecessary insult: "...as a stoplight!"

3. And then the - dare we say, nosy - follow-up: "What's wrong?" Bonus points: sound as if you are hoping for a Juicy Story.

4. Look appalled and bored at the answer: "That's what a cold does to me...raw red nose and dozens of hankies to wash." Eww, thanks for sharing.

5. Insult your friend's intelligence by acting as if she was a complete moron not to know about the Advertised Product: "Silly! Don't you know Kleenex Tissues are soft and easy on your nose during colds?"

6. Bonus insult: "Kleenex ends washing, too!" So don't put them through the wash, Helen, duh.

7. Wait for the desperate acceptance: "I'll try anything! I'll die if I'm not at my best for Prom!" Hand over giant sized box/tube/bottle of Advertised Product. (Odd note: Helen is already dressed up for the Prom, so the Kleenex won't help unless she makes a fake nose out of it and wears that.)

8. Cue the Happy Ending (Friend either disappears or becomes disembodied head): Date is (ironically enough) attracted to the very feature/thing/body part that the Moron was all worried about. Wow, he is so attracted to her "cute pug nose." And then she jokes that she "won by a nose." These two are made for each other: witty, Kleenex-loving, and obsessed with noses.

9. The Dénouement: Friend or Strange Lady We Never Saw Before tells us one last thing about the product. Like, for example: you can have Kleenex in your car! In a special Auto-Serv dispenser. Helen's date probably has several of these in his little roadster. He'd better.

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

The Sinister Hat Check

He was young just a moment ago.

He knew it had been a mistake to meet his blind date at a bar called the Last Follicle. Even though he had put on his favorite little hat. Walked into the joint with wavy locks even a pre-Delilahfied Samson would have envied. All the girls loved his hair. Everyone did, really. He was the King of the Gigolos, he used to tell people; he enjoyed seeing the annoyed looks cross their jealous faces.

Blind Date Sally had asked, how will I know you, Sam? He'd said: "Oh, I have really long, luxurious wavy hair - the color of autumn chestnuts. In fact, it's the best hair you've ever seen."

And she had laughed and said: "Autumn chestnuts, huh? We'll see about that."

Then she suggested a little club he'd never been to. Said it was the hippest place in town, where all the models went. That would get him over there in a hurry, she thought.

He walked through the door of the strange little club, down at the end of Boiled Egg Alley.

Walking into the Last Follicle was his first mistake. But using the check-room was the second. A little voice said: "Sam, look out now, do not check your hat!" He looked around. "In here," said the voice. "This is your pocket comb talking. I'm warning you, buddy, stay out of here! This place is dangerous!"

But he didn't listen. He wouldn't listen. I can do whatever I like, he thought: why, I'm Sam Samson, owner of the best head of hair in Chrome City. He looked into his pocket and glared. "Shut up," he said to the comb. "Just shut up." The hat check girl stifled a giggle. 

But he left his youth in the check-room along with his hat...

Sally was not pleased. Her plucked eyebrows alone were angry enough for five ordinary women. "You disregarded the warning your comb gave you when it carried away your hair," she said - which was one way of saying hello, perhaps.

"You read Kreml ads, I see," Sam said. "Your dialogue is stilted, sister. And anyway, there's something strange about this place."

"It happens to be under the management of the Kreml Company," Sally said. "And I am their top saleswoman." She pulled a big bottle of Kreml from her tiny evening bag (how she did that he could not say). "Try this. It will make your hair behave without giving that sticky gigolo look."

"Oh, so that's your racket."

"Yes, if there's one thing I can't stand it's a sticky gigolo. And a girl has to be careful these days." She stood up and smiled a scary little smile. "Bye bye, Sam. I think you'll find that when you leave, if you put your hat on very carefully  - and behave yourself with all those girls who like Byronic curls on a fellow - you might just get your hair back on the way home. Just - remember: skip the gigolo bit. And use Kreml - lots and lots of Kreml."

Sam grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head as he ran up Boiled Egg Alley. And from deep within his coat pocket he heard muffled laughter.

[From Ad Access. Giant version here.]

They Call Them the Diamond Doorknobs

Winning a diamond doorknob would be good. It being attached to an entire retro ranch house is better still. Three bedrooms, two baths. A "dream kitchen." Also a pool, and a car. Although the pool does look a little shoddy (you can see it on the big version, link at the end).

Now the doorknob, I must tell you, is not fashioned (as I had hoped) from a single Koh-i-Noor sized diamond, which is disappointing. It has a little diamond in the middle, though. That's something.

Just in case they invent a time machine, and we can travel back to June 1960 and enter the Dr. Pepper contest (which was to celebrate 75 years of Dr. Pepper, hence the diamond theme) - we'd better be ready. All we have to do is say in 25 words or less why we want all this stuff.

"I want Dr. Pepper's Diamond Jubilee Doorknob because..."

1. "...because I don't want a fishing rod or a piano or any of your other prizes."
2. "...because I want to take the diamond out and get it reset in a pendant necklace."
3. "...because I've drunk about six thousand Dr. Peppers and I deserve it."
4. "...because I am the most fabulous person I know and this would make a perfect present for me!"

Good thing we can't time travel yet. This may be harder than it seemed at first.

And here's another, totally unrelated thing: every time I thought about this post, I also thought of David Bowie's 1974 glam rock anthem "Diamond Dogs." Which is completely incongruous (so naturally this appealed to me). Culture clash right this way: imagine Ziggy Stardust in a place like this! Although he could possibly win this thing by offering to rewrite the song in honor of the contest: "They call them the Diamond Doorknobs..." [The big version is here; the ad is from Life, June 27, 1960.]

The Wand of Enamelon

Oh, go ahead, Zelda. Pay more. Just a little more! Think what you'll get:

1. Pay more for lipstick that doesn't look like poster paint.

2. Pay more for an orange crayon to write the tagline with (it'll save on your lipstick bills, in the end).

3. Pay more for a better photographer. One who can retouch a photo without making you look disturbingly clownish.

4. While we're at it,  how about paying more for the makeup artist? The black eye makeup with the orange lipstick and nail polish is good if you're a Jack-o-lantern, maybe. Otherwise, you might want to rethink it.

5. Pay more for someone to advise you not to pose like that. It's really off-putting. And to advise you to look a little happier. How could one not be happy? For Cutex is cheap and has the wonder ingredient Enamelon (which is also a strange science fiction otherworld, and something they coat skillets with*). And not only that, but it is "chip-pruf."

6. Speaking of which - why not pay more for a proofreader. Or even a pruf-reader, for that matter.

[Life, November 8, 1954, big version here, if you must.]

*I am kidding. But it could be. And I got the title from looking over here (that is why I'm calling this gal Zelda, in a desperate attempt to tie everything together).

Next time I am going to tell you how we can all win a diamond doorknob (because this is just what every household needs).

Unsettling Coca Cola Ads Know No Season, Either

[ice cold refreshing Friday haiku] 

Come in, everyone.
Because thirst knows no season
And you must want Coke.

Oh, I think I'll pass.
This brand of real refreshment
Frightens me a lot.

This soda minion
Drank too much Cola, too fast -
Hence the mad stare

Of that strange being -
Retro Benjamin Button,
Jonesing for caffeine,

What chemical change
Will come over those folks
Who visit that soda

Fountain of unrest,
Where real refreshment awaits
And something more, too - ?

[From Life, February 23, 1949; as  we all often say: I don't know what they were thinking. But it doesn't exactly make me want to rush out and order a Coca Cola.]

The Sphinx Who Liked Underwear

Oh, hello. Hey! Excusez moi.

I think there's something in here with me and - I must have had too much Sanka last night. I think it's saying something. Try not to panic, Carruthers. Stay calm. I have my Manhattan underwear on. I can cope with any situation!

Ahem! Yes, right behind you, cookie. May I ask where you got your underwear?

How - what - how did a sarcophagus get into my tent?

Ooh, a riddle! I love those. Because actually, according to this ad, I am a Sphinx. Yay, riddles! OK, How did a sarcophagus get into your tent? Let me see...To get to the other side? Um...the backstroke, sir? Yes, we serve anyone?

[silence]

Hey, you're one of the quiet ones! I like that. Well, kinda. Because I get a little bored in here and I like to hear the sound of my own voice. Tee hee! Come here often? On a little archaeological dig, are we? Or maybe you're just posing for an underwear ad. Yeah, that's it. Hey, me too. We got plenty in common, mister. I can just tell!

Why - why do you want to know about my underwear? Surely you don't - you don't wear -

Aww, hey, none of your beeswax, Mr. Cheeky! I just wanna know. I'm curious! And also so when I go shopping next I can look out for a quality brand like - Manhattan, did you say?

Y - yes.

Cute doggie design, too. Isn't that a little doggie on the leg? Lemme ask you a cute riddle about a doggie I just heard. What kind of a doggie really loves to take baths? Huh? Give up?

I - I don't know. I can't talk to you anymore. I am going to sidle away very slowly now.

A shampoodle, silly! Tee hee. You can sidle away if you like. But I think I'll come along too. I got me some wheels on the bottom of my case- wait'll you see me pop a wheelie. Race you to the door!

[From Life, April 30, 1956. The design is supposed to be "clever puzzle pieces" but I'm seeing a bloodhound, actually. What do you think?]

Win A Golden Dinosaur!

It's June 1962, so that means it's time to get out there and win a solid gold dinosaur. Holding a tiny Dr. Pepper bottle. Because this is what you've always wanted. Only you never knew!

The dinosaur statue was created by Johnny Hart of "B.C." comic strip fame. So actually it was pretty cool. And it was 24 carat gold. So if you got tired of it sitting on top of the TV, you could melt it down and make it into something else. Oh, and the dinosaur came with a $10,000 dinosaur dowry, so that's nice.

What do we have to do to get in on this? Buy a carton of Dr. Pepper - a whole carton. There will be an entry blank in there somewhere. And that is all they are going to tell us.

Dr. Pepper was known for its nutty contests in the early 60s, according to this ad (from Life, June 29, 1962, big version here) - earlier contests featured a diamond doorknob and a tropical island. I'll try and track those ads down because a diamond doorknob sounds pretty good to me. We need one of those. It would go so nicely with the decorating theme around here, Early Modern Clutter.

The tropical island would come in handy too, for those times when you just want to get away from It All. Beats going down to the basement and hiding in the laundry basket. There's usually a cat in there hogging all the space, anyway.

In the meantime we will all drink lots of Dr. Pepper and have Caveman Cookouts. This is an occasion, the ad tells us, where everyone comes barefoot and eats with their hands. And swigs soda, just as they did back in the Cro Magnon era.

The Chewing Gum Caper

It was the end of a long day and I was just about to close the office down when she walked into the joint. She was a good looking dame, but I could tell something was on her mind. Something dangerous. Something dark. She asked me if I was the guy who'd solved the Chiclets Caper back in '37. "That's right," I told her. "Brought the Mars Bar Murderer in, too."

"And the Case of the Pancake Makeup?"

"That wasn't me. I deal in candy and gum crimes only. Cases I can really get my teeth into. So why don't you just cut to the chase - tell me what's on your mind." She hesitated for a moment. I waited.

"It's Peggy."

"Go on."

"Well - Peggy's my best friend. I mean, I always thought she was, until...it's just that - Peggy's always on the go. I mean, always! And yet -"

I leaned forward. "And yet?"

"She seems so - so well rested! But she claims that she only gets two hours' sleep a night! How - how does she do it? It's a mystery to me. That's why I came here."

I leaned back in my chair and tried not to spin it around. This was going to be a tough one. Maybe the toughest case I'd ever had.

I made a list of suspects and started leaning on them - hard. This Peggy was a whirlwind all right. Stayed out dancing all night in the shadiest dives. Worked ten-hour shifts selling lousy hats to bargain-basement Betties down at the Five and Ten. And when I say those hats were lousy, I mean it. But Peggy always made the sale. Her supervisor said she even sold that turquoise and yellow parrot hat that had been on the top shelf since before the stock market crash of 1929.

And then I caught a break. Everywhere Peggy had been, I found Beech-Nut Gum wrappers. Dame got careless. See, that's where they start making mistakes - leaving evidence behind like it was garbage. Well, to a detective, it's not garbage - it's clues.

I told my client that I'd broken the case. "Your little pal Peggy has been keeping a big secret from you," I told her. "She's a gum chewer. Beech Nut Peppermint Gum. She must have seen those ads about how busy people can stay rested yet peppy all at once. They even call it a good habit. That's how they lure them in! And now she's hooked on it. "

"I did notice her chewing something pretty well all the time," said the dame.

"See, that's the way it is with a mystery. Clues right in front of you, but ordinary people don't know how to read 'em."

She paid me, thanked me profusely, and was on her way. I stuck the check in my pocket and reached for a pack of Black Jack - the tough guy's gum that promises nothing but a little bit of licorice. Another case, another day.

[From that great mystery publication, Life, October 23, 1939. Want the big version? Right this way. Tell 'em Sam Spade sent you.]