Retrosnark

Better late than never, I hope

Sorry for the lack of posting. First computer problems, then Gmail problems didst prevent me from successfully blogging. But I finally got around to it. These selections are from the July 1961 edition of The American Home. TAH was one of those big magazines, which means I've had to crop all catty-wampus here and there. If anything looks funny, that's the reason.

Ennyway, hope you like it. Happy Friday.

Now that's a top-notch water closet

Because gentlefolk don't leave televisions out in the open

When I'm placing a TV in a room, I always look for two things: inaccessibility, heat retention, and other-room incursion. I don't want to be able to see the thing unless I'm directly in front of it, I want it to be devoid of air holes so as to minimize electronics life, and I want to have to build a catchbox in the next room in order to house the thing.

Finally, somebody got it right.

It's a floor, it's a barcode

Herein, the tragedy of shopping at a tile remnant store. The parents spent so much money on the speed bag and exercise bar things (what are you supposed to do with those things, anyway?) that they didn't have enough for a solid-color tile floor. Oh, they tried to dress it up with fancy racing stripes, but Junior always knew the truth. The cold, grainy, patchwork truth.

Honey, why is there a face in the carpet?

This is what happens when frustrated liberal arts majors go into advertising. Excuse me, when frustrated hack liberal arts majors go into advertising. Can't you see a sixties feminist reading this and blowing every synapse in her skull?

"A carpet is a woman? Why is that, Mr. Chauvinist? Because you can walk all over them? Because you get to nail them down? Because you can rip them up and have them replaced any time you want? Because some of them are hi-lo and some of them are shag? Rise up, sisters, and overthrow the male-carpet industry complex hierarchy! The revolution will not be televised!"

Remember: A bird in the hand is worth doing right

Way to be a wordsmith, copywriter. "The key to the smart woman's secret" is one of the most mangled metaphors I've seen since I was knee-high to greener grass.

That being said, I like this layout. Spindly whatnot stand holding a minuscule television, with Fanta-pattern linoleum underneath it all. And a cordless Princess phone, evidently. Somebody was way ahead of their time.

I'll bet he could salute with his paw

This, dear Do What Now? readers, is what you call your All-American dog. He's mostly German Shepherd, but not completely, because hybridization becomes a breed. That muzzle is white testimony to the fact that he's seen more than a few Frisbee tosses, although he only chased Frisbees after he'd secured the perimeter against communists and foreign cars. Feed this dog no horsemeat, citizen, for a canine patriot deserves nothing less than beef, beef, and more beef! (Providing you stretch the term "beef" thinner than Twiggy's duodenum.)

Of evil mothers and paneling

Lots of brown, brown, BROWN goodness here, topped off with some roll-out goodness and wall-mounted goodness. But what sells it is the woman in the top right, who seems to be taunting the kid in the snowsuit with all her baseboard-generated warmth.

"What's that, Timmy? You say it's cold out there that you're fairly sure you saw a Yeti? And your toes have broken off and are rolling around in your boots? Well, wouldn't it be nice to come inside, where it's toasty-warm? Sorry, but warmth is for little boys who don't put antifreeze in their sister's Dippity-Do jar. Hope the wolves stay away tonight, Timmy. Better make a snow cave, just in case."


(In case you're wondering about all that white space in the upper left quadrant, I did a little Gimp work on the copy. The way I had to scan it, part of the copy was left out, and it looked pretty wonky with just half of it there. Ergo the preponderance of white space.)

Whatever. It's still a hamburger meat bolus

"See, they have Campbell's Soup in them, so we're calling them Souper Supper Loaves. It's ironic, cloying, and twee, the rarely achieved gack trifecta. No need to thank me. It's just another day's work for Badcopyman!"

Exotic, and spiffy

I'd be a lot more inclined to eat salads if this were still the style of Kraft salad dressing bottles. Does anybody remember Casino and Roka salad dressing?