Vintage Pin Up: Harry Barton

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Baby Talk

I have to admit,

I can find
other people’s kids
a bit annoying
at times ….

( i’m not talking
about little babies –
even though some
of the illustrations
on today’s post might
lead you to think
otherwise….
but nope.)

.. and maybe the
irritation I feel
about certain
kiddie winkies
is pretty normal for
someone who used
to travel as much
as I did.

The ones I have in mind
seem to try to get under
your skin whether they
know you or not .

.. and since they’re
somebody else’s problem,
you hesitate to administer
what would otherwise be
patently called for..

— the hearty whack on the
ass and a loud ‘stop doing
that’.

Basically, you have to
resort to call them a
‘little ratbag’ under
your breath and leave
it pretty much at that..

Although sometimes
I think the father
(when available/identified)
should be liable to pay the
consequences of the child’s
lack of discipline.

A good
‘how’s your father’,
or similar.

Ah,
sweet justice.

Not that I was an angel
when I was a kid –

No, far from that,
but my parents
had the situation
well and truly
handled when
I acted up
in public.

Man,
you ain’t jest
whistlin’ Dixie.

Faster than
a speeding bullet –
my father’s hand
would descend and
give me the painful
instant karma I was so
obviously begging for.

If you don’t learn it
when you’re a kid,
you’re not gonna wanna
learn it later, and
discipline is something
we all should understand,
for the whole society’s
sake.

But sometimes,
I guess, kids are ok.

And today, we have
postcards featuring
( a few ) adorable kids
(if it’s possible to put
those two words together
and not form some kinda
oxymoronic improbability) .

Oh wait…
my kids were adorable,
so it is possible.

I was not adorable.

So, thank heaven
there must be
nothing to that whole
genetics thing.

Assuming…

well, that’s probably
not gonna help me any.

!! HOY !!

.

The Friday Mailbag Post

Hi —

I’m so glad that
you’ve joined us
for another one
of those posts for
folks who love
surprises —

— when we reach our
hand way, way down
into the mailbag and
pull up heaven knows
what.

Awww-
it can’t be
that
bad,
can it ?

Actually, when we
say ‘bad’ around here,
we mean ‘good’….

and vice versa,
which kinda does
confuse things a bit,
I guess, now that I
think about it……

but worry not,
my dear reader,
for we sort it all
out in the end.

Remember –
‘linguistics’ is only
a couple letters away
from being ‘linguine’.

Whatever that means.

In the meantime,
we have several obscure
postcards that will delight
and astound you.

Or maybe just make
ya go ‘WTF?’,
I dunno.

It does make you
wonder, though —

— just why do we find
strange vintage stuff
so appealing ?

Does it touch a small part
inside of us that reminds
us of some-long-lost-
heritage-memory-bank?

Is it a learning experience ?

Scratching a sensory itch?

A way of connecting with
our ancestors?

Or are we just happy
to find out our great
grandparents were
just as loopy as we are ?

Hmmmm…..

yeah,
I thought so.

Ahem.

I’d like to thank our
friends and readers
for keeping the mail
bag well stocked with
goodies —

and I do
mean goodies.

If you’d like to submit
something ,
simply send a
reasonably
reasonable
sized image
to:
Carolinamuscle@
outlook.com!

Hey, with these
newfangled technologies
you don’t even have
to stand in line at the
post office to buy a
stamp – just click
‘send’.

Easy, peezy, man.

In the meantime,

I hope you enjoy this
week’s installment !

HOY !!!!
.

 

The Stain On The Sofa

We’re feeling a bit
philosophical here at
the Muscleheaded Blog
today, which is kinda
strange when you think
about it, since we can
barely spell ‘philosophical’
usually …..

but hey-

— stranger things
have happened.

N-How.

For example,
you can choose
to look at this as
just another day,
or you can recognize
that Fridays are
really Mother
Nature’s way of
reminding you
that things could
always be worse.

N-Double-How, man.

I was just watching
a weird Irish
puppet/interview show
on my ginchey new
TV gizmo –

– the show was called:
Bronx Bunny ” —
and it put me in a very
weird mind-set.

Obviously, I am
NO LONGER
the crassest horn-dog
on the planet,
because I have been
thoroughly supplanted
by a semi-stuffed
panda bear
named Teddy T.

All I can tell you is,
if
you watch it, I’m not
responsible for any of the
content therein, nor the
therapy you’re likely to
need after said viewing.

And yes,
Teddy ….

Marina Sirtis was incredibly
hot on that space show.

‘N-How in triplicate.

Lost, yet?

Oh, sure ya are…

.. we all are, really,
when you get right
down to it.

You can let out a big
ole sigh anytime you
get tired of this
convoluted
stream o’ consciousness
thing that we’re
engaging in today,
and we’ll get on
with the well-vaunted
and well-loved
mail-bag segment
for this week.

Anytime,
now……

Ummm…

Oh, sorry.

Gotcha.

Thought that was just
Teddy-T doing his
heavy breathing
exercises again.

Mailbag here we come.

Today’s mailbag
I like to call
‘Popular Postcard
Wisdom’.

Seriously,
though….

Watch out for that stain
on the back of the sofa.

!! HOY !!