Tuesday, February 19, 2008



Ah..... the delightful days of summer. Days of ice cream, suntanning, barbeques, sand castles and of course, extra smoking.
And what better way to take advantage of your newfound freedom than..... smoking the cigarette of extra smokes! What does this mean? Why, it means that each cigarette contains 10% more puff-potential than the leading national brand. Gone is the soul-wrenching butting out of the cigarette that just didn't last long enough. You'll butt out knowing you sucked every last nico-tastic puff.
But wait, you ask, don't extra smokes in the season of extra smoking just add up to a whole lot more smoking? Of course it does, but this is America. And doing something right means doing it to excess. We didn't drop the bomb on Hiroshima in order to smoke a reasonable amount, we did it so that we can smoke ourselves into oblivion, God Dammit!
So enjoy your summer. Get on your best wool coat and turtleneck, head to the beach, and smoke those mothers!!

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Now With Extra Quality!


I always wondered what people did before television was invented....

That's A Pretty Big 'But'.......

Watch out sailor... She's not what she appears. Don't be fooled by the starched white collar or perfectly coiffed pageboy hair. Ignore the saint-like ethereal glow that seems to be emanating from her very soul. She's a lap-jockey, and when she goes slumming, a rubber is the farthest thing from her mind.
She's Frenchified, and she'll destroy you and everything you hold dear. She is the Communism of sex.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008



Really? Because if a guy did this to me, I would punch him in the dick.

Source

Wrong Wrong Wrong


Jesus Christ on a cross. What the hell did you have to smoke for this to be appetizing?
Let's examine each component of this specimen separately.
What I assume to be bread, (however this assumption may very well be as wrong as an ironing board in the kitchen) seems to have been given a greenish tint. I cannot comment as to whether this is the genesis of mould, a food additive extracted from crash victims found near Area 51, or if the tint was added to intensify the redness of the tomatoes slash 'spaghetti'.
I use this term loosely, because it does not resemble any spaghetti I have ever known. It could possibly be better described as earthworms wriggling in the afterbirth of a jack'o'lantern. Have you ever dropped a string of spaghetti in the sink, and then you see it days later, water logged and repulsively swollen? I take comfort in the fact that I don't have to smell it.
The tomatoes are fine. They will help clean out the inevitable clog of goo that will form in your colon after eating this abomination.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Mmmm.... Hunger-Induced Hallucinations


Libby's. For when you're so mother fucking hungry, you'll wear window sheers instead of expending the energy it takes to do laundry.
Addendum: Who picked out that wedding ring for her? It looks like a clearance item from Fifth Avenue Collection.

Pleasure Derived from Silicone



Lars and the Real Girl is a really really good movie. Go see it.


Highlights


  • An anatomically correct supporting actress made from silicone

  • Fantastic acting by Ryan Gosling

  • That Canadian actress that played the leading role in Life With Billy

  • Pink bowling balls

  • A non-romantic comedy that contains both romance and comedy

  • Did I mention there was a silicone love-doll?

Friday, February 8, 2008

Cookies for Souls


I'm really uncomfortable even looking at this old Karo Syrup ad.
This child is... somehow.... not right.
I'm not sure if it's the sculpted eyebrows, the cryptic gender of the child itself, or the association of nudity with cookies.

All I know is that I'm pretty sure it knows that I touch myself, and it likes the fact that I know that it knows.
Also, I dare you to find a nipple. Male or Female, it should have a nipple plainly visible based on what we can see of its torso. No nipple= probably not even human.

I appreciate the word usage in the recipe. Nowadays, if someone used the phrase "three-way cooky" in a sentence, everyone's head would turn to the haggard blonde at the end of the bar.

Seeing as though we're playing fast and loose with the spelling of words, I'm not sure what to make of the 'scrumpshus' exclamation at the top. It's either A.) supposed to be cute, as if 'it' spelled the word incorrectly like little 'its' tend to do, or B.) the ad was written during war time. All the nutrient-absent powdered egg and canned meat everyone was forced to eat tooks its toll on the ol' grammatical skills.

Speaking of nutrients, please note how corn syrup is described as nourishing. Because Karo is rich in dextrose, the sugar your body uses directly for energy. Uh, ya, I'd say it's rich in dextrose, considering it's ONE HUNDRED PERCENT dextrose! It's syrup! Although I'm sure this would have been a big selling feature at the time- everyone just needed that extra kick of energy to get them to the next uncertain and terrifying day.

That being said, where can I buy that nifty cookie jar?

My Blood Is Your Blood

During a search for vintage advertisements and magazine articles (a burning interest of mine), I came across this ad. It can only be described as a masterpiece of 50's style misogyny, served on an avocado-green melmac platter.Please indulge me by considering the following:






















You poor son of a bitch.

How DO you manage every month? I'll bet during all that cramping and irritability, she doesn't even have the energy to make you your weekday dinner of a full beef roast with all the trimmings. Broads. They always complain the loudest.

Note how miserable this guy looks. Furrowed brow, excessive head-turning. He radiates the melancholy of a man whose whites aren't quite their whitest, and whose drawers weren't starched OR ironed. Lazy bitch.

One can just imagine the after-dinner conversation down at the Lodge:

"..... some new-fangled ailment called PMS. Why, just last week, Bob and Vera down the street separated. Now, you didn`t hear it from me, but word is that he had put up with one too many of her monthly 'temper tantrums'. Sure he`s been nailing every secretary this side of the Mason-Dixon line, but it`s no excuse for her to snap her dishtowel in anger and storm out of the room. These childish outbursts are exactly what us fellas DON`T need after 7 hours at the office. When we come home, we like to have our dinner hot, our children quiet, and our wives emotionally repressed. It`s the American way. Feelings are for communists.

Thank God she saw the ad for Femicin in Photoplay, no more of that moody business. Now she`s back to acting like the woman I married. Heh heh heh, without the cherry of course. Another bourboun, fellas?"