LILEKS (James) :: The Bleat for Tuesday.

The 70s: Plush velvet banking. It's the Gobbler of banks.

Today’s major issue: the door-bumper rubber tip thing. Whatever they’re called. Oh, I’m sure they have a technical name. Door stopper cap. That’s it. I had some, but they didn’t fit, so I took the one that was on the door stopper and went off to the hardware store.

Wait a minute - you had it, but you needed it? Yes. I will explain.

The guy looked at the item I gave him, reached way up on the top of the Door Supply Area, and handed me a pack. This I bought for $2.98. When I got home I realized that it was a 5/8th, and hold on, didn’t I have a pack of 5/8ths? I did. I got one on, but it was like putting a small bowler hat on Andre the Giant. Comically wrong. The end of the door stopper, I noticed, had a strange tip, like a big screw with a groove. I’d seen some of those door stoppers at the hardware store, and figured I’d have to go back to see if there was a really big cap that would fit because of course the people who redid this house had to have custom bespoke non-standard door stoppers.

That was that, for a while, but then Current noticed that the towel rack on the wall was slightly loose. You could see where a little bit of the paint had almost peeled away. Upon trying to tightening the part of the rack attached to the wall, I realized that it had to be disassembled to be properly fixed. One thing leads to another, eh? Well, let’s find the tiny hex wrench, the one that’s about six microns thick, and carefully undo the screw without dropping it on the floor, because I’d never find it again. It would sit behind the radiator for 17 years until someone managed to get it with a feather duster. I removed the brackett and discovered that the builders, lo those many years ago, had stuck in a drywall screw anchor and gooped it with silicone. Great. And the anchor was loose. Great! I got the other bracket off, and discovered it was held in place entirely with silicone goop. And it didn’t have a little hex screw.

Now everything is apart, all the pieces on the counter. We are at the farthest possible point from completion. We have not even put on our left moccasin to start our journey of a hundred miles. (I know I am conflating Indian and Chinese proverbs.)

But! I knew I had an extra screw in an unused fixture, in the basement. The chances are good I’ll never use it, because I’m off to Renter’s Paradise and will leave the onerous world of owning things and fixing things behind. Got the part, got a thicker drywall anchor, drove it in, and nothing fit back together because of the silicone goop. This I shaved off with a razor, feeling like the scientist in Andromeda Strain using the hands to shave a micron off the space germ. To my utter surprise I got everything back together, only to discover that the hex screw was a bit too long for its new home. Well, who’ll notice.

Current was pleased with the result. NEXT! She pointed out the door bumper had no cap. I thought you got one.

Yes, but it wasn’t right. I showed the guy what I needed but he gave me 5/8s and I already had those. I didn’t open the package and the receipt is taped to the package and I will return it tomorrow.

Yes but where’s the one you took in?

I go to my studio and pick it up off the desk and put it on.

Current: oh. So you didn’t get one that fit? I’m trying to understand the logic of how this all worked out

Me: I am going to be dead in a year and you will regret wasting time on these utterly inconsequential matters

Current: no you know me I just want to understand how this happened, you went in, and -

Me: It doesn’t matter! There’s one now!

Whereupon she explained that one of the realtors, the one whose every idea and opinion I regard as total rubbish, said that the bathroom looked as if it hadn’t been updated in a while, and -

Let me stop for a second. You know what? Guilty. The bathroom has not been updated in a few years. We’re not the sort of folk who just rips up the bathroom every presidential election cycle and splurges on the latest style, which is why there isn’t an enormous free-standing modern bathtub in the corner that no one uses. It’s 12 years old and it is absolutely classic. A big walk-in shower with WINDOWS. THAT LOOK OUT TO TREES AND THE SKY. It turns out that one of the things that might make it look non-updated was the door-stopper cap, which was not brilliant fresh white but had become slightly yellowed by time. And thus it seemed as if the entirety of my existence had been reduced down to this single synthetic knob an inch off the floor, and my failure to understand its critical importance was emblematic of everything.

I should note that I now have acid-reflux about nine hours a day.

Also: went to the storage facility, put away six boxes. It bothers me because there’s lots of books and ephemera I had decided to keep, and there will be no room for it. I might have to rent the smallest possible space and just keep it there along with all the copies of my books - I swear I have the entire press run of one. It’ll be the King Solomon’s Mine of 20th century paper. Maybe some lucky soul will bid $25 on the lot and clear a cool tenner in profit.

It’s 1958.

Behold: Jewel-Top Jell-O.

You scoop out the segments, set them aside, and place them atop the whipped cream. I always hated whipped cream on Jell-O. It’s a mixture of textures.

It’s a verb now:

Cheez-Whiz ‘em! Also, garnish ‘em! No more Everyday Potatoes.

The good ol’ Veal Cutlets Grandma, according to the copy, used to start in the afternoon. Not you: a few sizzlin' minutes and it's time to call in the hands for a right-good country-style supper.

Takes a while before the copy tells you what it actually is.

Grandma had a veal pen?

Rath:

By the end of World War II, Rath was the fifth largest meatpacker in the U.S. Through two world wars, stock market panics, depression, and drought, the company had failed to show a profit in only four of its years.

But times would get hard. Rath lasted over a hundred years, and gave up the ghost in 1985.

Crust: fabulous! Package: new! Pie: Free!

A strange parade of attributes, you might think, but no. It was no doubt carefully constructed. First, the unexpected elevation of crust over contents. The second attribute, Package, is a new paradigm, and suggests modernity. The pie: free is a matter of money.

Also, “a product of Campbell." They bought the brand in 1955, and still own the broth portion. ConAg owns the TV Dinners.

Another take from the same campaign. Note that the Crust Descriptor has changed.

If you’re curious what the packaging used to look like, this was the 1956 campaign.

And the box. A bit generic and blunt.