Woke up with the first part of the cold: barbed-wire throat. It’s not bad if you don’t sneeze. When you sneeze it smarts, quite a lot. But by the afternoon the throat had abated and the congestion begun, which I welcome. C’mon, let’s go. We’ve got three days of this to come. Let’s clog up as fast as possible. None of this leisurely cold nonsense where you have a day to enjoy a sore throat, then welcome nasal concrete the next.
Anyway, I feel like crud, so we’re going to be dim for the next few days.
The other day I needed some batteries. You always need some batteries. Let’s say you bought a lot of batteries a while ago, and stockpiled them in the place where you put batteries. They could have leaked. They could be slightly more . . . inert? Is that right? Are fully charged batteries Ert? No one ever says I’d better make sure my battery situation is utterly Ert. But I also needed some emergency lights, since the emergency lamp I never used - there not being any situations that required it - suffered from a battery hemorrhage, and the power compartment was full of jangly juice and crusty crystals.
So. Home Depot. Got a nice big honking 300 lumen lamp. Requires 8, count ‘em. 8, D-Cells. As I tweeted out: you always have too many C cells. You never have enough D cells. The C-Cells were stockpiled because some useless long-gone kid electronics required them. No one wants C-Cells to exist; just begone. Either smoke-detector rectangle batteries or big Ds. C-Cells are the mini-CD of batteries. So I bought 8, and also a smaller lamp that needs 4, thinking I’d rotate from stock. Also some low-voltage lights for the back yard, since four went out at once, and three flame-tip narrow base for the gazebo light, and some amazingly priced Philips LEDs to replace the hated pigtails, and two boxes of Phillips Light Stick LEDs for the sun porch -
But! One of the lamps in the sunporch had incandescents, and the other had another form of Phllips LEDs. Ah: the second lamp’s bulbs were dimmable, so move those to the sconces and consign their Incandescent Reveals to the ash heap of history. Install four Light Sticks, each guaranteed to last 439 years, and forget about that. This room is DONE.
I am in favor of expanded consumer choice and innovation, but the baffling array of light bulb opportunities makes you lower your head and mutter. White. Soft White. Daylight White. Solar Nova Flare. Sunset Yellow. Smoker’s Teeth. LED LCD Incandescent CFL Halogen. Xenon.
But: no Xenon in the 50 Watt GB base. So. Off to Menard’s. Grab a basket, get some peanuts - good price, loss leader - and head up to light bulbs on the 2nd floor. No Xenon 50s. Sigh. Well. Put the peanuts back and leave store. But: the moment the basket is back in the stack you remember you’re down to 1 (one) 120 watt Sylvania Globe, for the kitchen. Take the basket back up, get the globes, but do not get peanuts because screw peanuts.
Once home: replace everything that needs replacing. Look for batteries stored away for emergencies. Can’t find them. Surely I put them in the battery box where I put all the emergency supplies.
And where was that box, exactly?
And what did it look like?
"The traditional beauty of wood-like trim."
"The rear body was composed of fiberglass covered by a vinyl appliqué printed to simulate wood. Later versions featured an all-steel body and are best remembered for featuring body sides and a tailgate covered by simulated wood trim and panel."
That's the third-generation Squire. The study of its evolving style is a study in the devolution of automobile style.
Let's step back to 1926 for no particular reason, except to consider a time when everyone had the same emotions as we have, but didn't have TV or instantaneous global communication. They did, however, have paint.
It's from an industry magazine aimed at painters and wallpapers, so the pitch is different. Looks wonderful and homey, though - unless you think she's pointing out a spot he missed.
Of course that's probably what she's doing.
An aphorism for a startlingly surreal mascot:
His eyes are tiny triangles.
Somehow I don't think the founders of the company were Elias Hanggood and Ezekial Zebidiah. Lovely drop shadows; that took skill.
They also had an office over by the area now occupied by WTC v. 2.
When the Irish Grippe struck, it had the same fast effect: reddening of the hair and cheeks, a demeanor of gleeful malice, and minor Bugsbunnying:
Also slight engreenification of the hands.
Here's a phrase that meant something then. It was all you had to say, really.
The Popular Magazine ran for many years, until it wasn't. 1903 - 1931. Wikipedia says the slogan was "a magazine for men and women who like to read about men." That's a rather frank way of putting it.
The Popular Magazine initially started as a boy's magazine, but the editorial focus was shifted after only three issues to one of adult mainstream fiction, a program the magazine would retain for the rest of its publication run. The magazine can be considered a forerunner of the pulp fiction magazines that were prominent from the 1920s to 1950s, as it avoided more highbrow fare in favor of fiction "for the common man." Several issues of The Popular Magazine featured illustrations by N.C. Wyeth.
Fred MacIsaac, author of "Tin Hats," wrote a lot of sci-fi as well, and died in 1940. This was his first novel. Because the internet is wonderful, a full-color version of the cover can be seen here.
Stylish young Jazz Age people on the go, sailing places and taking pictures with Autographic Kodaks:
Looking at the way she stood and the anchor at her feet makes you wince. Must have been a calm day. had to have been a calm day.
Who were they? Is it possible to think that someone might know?
Thirty years later, Jack Webb would sell them:
The fact cannot be denied. They do continue.
Cigarette ads were a lot more elevated in the early days. The brand was a 19th century invention, and would hang on until 1980. Twenty-three years after this ad, they'd sponsor a radio mystery show.
Why yes, I do have it. Here's the theme.
Joyous welcoming from the uncorsetted set:
In case you can't make out the name of the Girdlon, it's the Velvet Grip. The George Frost company - founded, as it turns out, by George Frost. The elder, that is. His son took over, built the business with canny garter marketing, and retired in 1930, loaded; the firm continued into the 40s, but faded away.
They do, you know. They do.
Baer and Wilde made a pile in dog tags, and sold a billion Kum-A-Parts. Ten years after this ad they'd change the company name.
That's it for today! See you tomorrow.Well, that's not it entirely; a little bit of 19th century techno-slaughter from our old chum Frank Reade Jr, Electrical Genius.