Kitchen Retro

They Call Them the Diamond Doorknobs

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:20:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 15:52:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 15:27:00 +0000

[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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:34:00 +0000

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!

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 15:07:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 15:42:00 +0000

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.]

"Every Laugh Means Money"

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 15:13:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 15:11:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 17:06:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 15:28:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 16:01:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 14:29:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 14:07:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 14:52:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 16:38:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 15:23:00 +0000

[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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 14:04:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 17:28:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 16:50:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 14:25:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 14:10:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 16:39:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 00:46:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 16:21:00 +0000

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

Lidian47@gmail.com (Lidian) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 15:32:00 +0000

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.