Sorry about yesterday. I just had this conviction around 2:00 AM that there was no way I could avoid being taken out of context. It’s not as if I have to say anything, but it is an interesting situation. To wit:

1. I am an old friend of the man accused by this AP story of being a Nazi.

2. Hence I have met the old man many times.

3. I have learned other things not in the article, which I oughtn’t discuss, which A) are relevant to my opinion, but B) are irrelevant to yours, since the fact that “I’ve learned things I can’t tell you” is useless as far as you’re concerned. The reason I am not discussing them is because I do not wish to say anything incorrect, particularly on someone else's behalf.

4. You can read the article, research the subject, bring your own biases, and make up your mind. At Ricochet I wrote about this simply to ask whether people had an open mind after reading the article, or whether you believe the proof is reasonably conclusive. Either way, stay tuned.

That’s that. If anyone wants to twist this into a “defense of a Nazi” there’s nothing I can do. I just recalled, at 2 AM, the last time someone - someone I know - took something I said out of context and tweeted about it, and I just hate that. Hate it.

Of course, worse things can happen to a fellow than being inaccurately characterized on Twitter. A few examples come to mind. One in particualar.

Father’s Day has come and gone, but surely you want to know if we did father-daughterly things. Not really. Nothing more than normal, anyway; it’s not like I’m one of those overworked dads who says “we’ll play catch next year, I promise.” It’s not like we don’t just hang out a lot. But it was my SPECIAL DAY, so I got a hand-drawn card of myself in the Captain’s Chair of The Enterprise with more hair than I actually have, and the breakfast of my choice: French toast and bacon. Then it was yard work - nothing like the work my wife puts in; she plants and plants and never stops planting, never stops performing some sort of loaves-and-fishes miracle with the hostas. How they must shudder when they see her coming. Goodbye, neighbor frond! We are about to be sundered for e'er and e'er.

I propped up the fence that blew down in the squall. There is no ETA on the fence people fixing it. This will be my fault in six weeks. I say that not with rancor but as a husband.

I repaired light fixtures. Got the Oak Island Water Feature working, with the fountain and the submerged lights, and snuck off to photograph the water tower with the new camera. More on that in a bit.

Then I took Daughter to one of those build-your-own-cup-of-yogurt places that are springing up all over. Seems like an amazing deal: free samples, and .48 per ounce. Somehow ends up being five bucks for two small portions that cost them .15 in raw materials, if that. Hurrah for them! Find a niche and fill it with sweet creamy soft-serv. It’s still not a Dairy Queen or a Dairy Made or a Tastee-Freez or a Cone-Top’t or anything else I could make up that you’d recognize anyway.

Then the grocery store, where our luck of bad experiences in the check-out aisle continued. I told you about the muttering Target clerk doing his best Latka Gravis. At Old Navy the day before we were behind someone with 4873 items, and switched lanes when they opened a new one. Another lady beat us there first. By God, she moved fast. She had 3952 items. We had a pair of flip-flops. When the clerk finished running her mound of garments past the scanner, the customer said:

“I’d like my five dollar coupon please because you didn’t ask me if I wanted to open an Old Navy card.”

Picture a person who defines the concepts of "not overly encumbered with a sense of style or possessing a natural revulsion to large rhinestone initials on one's glasses" and that'll do.

“What?” said the clerk. The customer pointed to a sign on the register. “You didn’t ask me.” I suspect she was not bothered that the opportunity to open an account had been offered.

“I did,” sighed the clerk, probably thinking they beat me if I don’t, do I look stupid?

“No, you didn’t. I'd like my coupon.”

The clerk, with a look of utter despair over PEOPLE, got out her walkie-talkie and asked in a monotone for a manager to come over.

“I don’t want to hold up the line,” said the customer, picking up her bag and giving a small smile of triumph. “But you didn’t say it.”

Now it was our turn.

“Would you like to save ten percent by opening up a Old Navy card,” said the clerk, as tonelessly as possible.

I said I did not but thanked her for the opportunity.

Now we’re at Byerly’s and there’s a lady of a certain age who is going to pay her bill with exact change and this requires a spelunking expedition into the depths of her purse that takes at least three minutes. She finds the requisite pennies. One. At. A. Time. I wonder how anyone so intent on giving exact change ever gets change in the first place.

I mentioned The Water Tower: some shots with the new camera, greatly reduced. The originals are about 1:1 in scale, I swear.







You can do things with big lens that actually zoom, as opposed to "Digitally" zooming. In the original picture you can see the flag the astronauts left.



A round-up of old logos, packages,a nd products, so that we may reconstruct forgotten corners of the old commercial culture.


Your weekly Elsie, explaining where your money goes:


I noticed today in the cupboard that we have some Borden’s Evaporated Milk. It has Elsie on the label. It’s called “Eagle Brand.” So a bird brand with a cow head. I don’t think anyone’s really paying much attention to it. They don’t need to. It sells. That’s that.



I don’t know why the guy in the glass is laughing; he’s just as doomed.


It also makes you wonder whether individual cube consciousness exists after they have melted, or are subsumed into a great meta-consciousness of water. But would that extend to water everywhere? If so, dying has to be one hell of a revelation. WHOA. Water water everywhere and not a drop that thinks.





So Fritz Lang’s lighting director was doing bourbon ads, eh? There’s much discussion of Schenley products in Forgotten Hooch and other areas of the site; lots of brands, all gone. Cream of Kentucky sounds like it might be alcoholic oatmeal, if you think about it. I do not recommend thinking of it, especially if you are Don Draper.

Speaking of Hooch:



Alway with the deerstalker cap, pipe, and magnifying glass to indicate close study and deduction.

The tagline:

Were other whiskeys noted for exhibiting remorse? In the consumer, yes, there would be regrets aplenty, but in the whiskey itself? Were other whiskeys troubled somehow by their own nature? Say, they way they treated ice cubes, turning their pure essence into an intoxicating spirit, corrupting them against their will?




Ah, the Lemonade stand. Boon to the bored kid, introduction into the hopes and dashed dreams of entrepreneurship, guilt-inducer to the passerby who doesn’t want the kids to sour on capitalism but doesn’t feel like choking down a warm cup of the stuff and feigning enthusiasm.




Here’s what 35 cents got you. I guarantee the table was not included. As for the backwards “s” letters to indicate childish penmanship, that was probably up to you.



It's the K that keeps it from being poisonous!


Still exists. Contains Daramin (ammonium saccharin). The company still exists as well, and proudly says “Well-established medicines from the 1800s.” Oh, that's intriguing. Check out the list of products; they make Unguentine and “Bits-to-Sol,” and this classic: Dr. J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil Liniment. He was also connected with Mexican Mustang Liniment, and the “Celebrated Strenghthening Cordial,” which was 50% alcohol. Great illustrations of his product stamps here.



A new taste sensation:





Once the novelty was gone, apparently, so was it.



Before they went with the mermaid:




Same company! Different brands! The illusion of choice!




There you go! Work blog and tumblr and twitter and etc. etc. And a Comic Sins. See you around.



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