Summer’s done. Don’t think I’ve ever had a summer like this, one that I wanted to last twice as long and couldn’t wait to be done.

Wife went to see Daughter get move in to college, and as I noted last week I declined because I didn’t see the point of the expense, what with Daughter being busy with the social events the entire weekend save a few hours for brunch.

So it was a quiet weekend, just me and the dog.

(Note the garden hose refilling the Oak Island Water Feature, because of course it still leaks)

Friday night Birch started barking at something, which I regret to admit is not an unusual experience. But this was different: this was the furious grown-bark that indicates an intruder - usually a raccoon. I got him inside with some difficulty, and shone a flashlight at the space where he’d been snarlking:


The crushed can was something I dropped to startle the possum and make him go away.

He did not go away.


Evil-looking little thing. Ghastly beast.

A bit more Fair, even though it’s done. The last moments of the summer.

It was a perfect day.

I think they had almost a quarter million attendance on Monday; they had 245K on Sunday. That's a lot of people, and everyone got along. I can't remember the last time I've heard as much as a harsh word at the Fair.

This . . . is sad. At the penny arcade:

She's broken.

Always one of my favorite sights.

Sorry I screwed up the video link last Friday; it was this short time-lapse.


One of my favorite sights:

It's better when it's accompanied by majorettes; looks like a pagan ritual.

I had to cross the parade to get to the other side, which isn't always easy, but I fell in with the Union parade - hey, I'm a member - and wound my way through the throng until I could exit. A guy, thinking I was in the Union parade, high-fived me, and I had to return the gesture.

My favorite moment of the day was meeting a reader who wondered where I had obtained my yardstick - I always get a yardstick - and kneeled down and presented it like a sword, whereupon he knighted me. Then, exhausted from talking for half an hour in the sun and drinking sample beers (the guest was from the Minnesota Brewers Association) I stood in the queue for the bus in the sun for 20 minutes, rode the bus back to the lot, drove home, and fell asleep. When i woke it was the early evening of Labor Day, and summer was done.

Now there's a thunderstorm tuning up, and Birch is under my desk.

Still a bit more summer left, perhaps.




It’s 1970.

Everyone’s worried about pollution, but don’t worry - there’s a solution we’re already using!

It’s going to cost more because it’s harder to get at, but that will change, and so will their image; it’s Satan’s flatulence to some, now.

This brand ads flair, which is to say, flavorless intoxicant:

This must have been “show those hippies” day at the country club, where everyone was encouraged to show the the long-hairs didn’t have a monopoly on dressing outside of the accepted norms, and they too had troubadours who cared about social issues!

Or it’s a youth cult, and the blond is waiting to see if the potions have completely clouded the Old One’s mind, so that she may be consumed for her organs. The guitarist knows how this plays out, and pays it no mind.

What the hell is going on here?

She has the complexion of someone who’s been in the water after a shipwreck too long, and why she is marrying two guys is not clear at all.

My Gosh, it’s the unit we had in Fargo. That thing saved our lives in the summer. It changed everything.

Note that the copy references the “bad air” outside, because everyone was worried about pollution. In Fargo this meant the wind from the sewage plant or the sugar-beet factory, either of which would peel the wallpaper off.

The ads of the day were so optimistic and uplifting:

Why was a gas company advertising this? Because they wanted us to know that they also made pesticides, and Shell’s Gardona saved Bambi.

Later pulled because it gave deers cancer! No. This site says:

This pesticide is registered for unrestricted use.
This pesticide's toxicity code is 3, which corresponds to a toxicity category of Caution.


Same mag, another ad:

Something bad has happened. Someone said something they shouldn’t have. It’s all come out, and everyone’s trying to process it.

Ads in Life by this time were mostly smokes, hooch, and cars, as you might have noticed.

Never drink a Love Bird alone! Contains PASSION fruit! You may end up in a spasm of frantic onanism!

It’s the only liquor ad I’ve seen which almost promises you will “share a most unplatonic experience.”

May be the only ad to ever say “unplatonic.”

If you’re of a certain age, you know what he’s saying without squinting at the copy.

A long-running ad campaign. It was humorous, and not intended to be taken seriously, because no one ever started a fight to force someone to change his cigarette brand. No one cared.

That will have to do. Shall we go back 103 years to see what's changed, and what's stayed the same? We shall.



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