A Space Case

I guess like a lot
of boys of
my generation,
I was space-nuts
when I was a kid.

I mean, anything that
had to do with
space exploration
or science fiction –
– man, I was into it.

And ,
once a year,
when my birthday
rolled around,
I always got to pick one present –
– not too expensive, mind you –
– from the local department store…..

Which meant ,
quite obviously,
some kinda space gadget
of one kind or another.

You might remember
my post about my
7th birthday present
,
a space-age toy ray gun –

– well, every year
( until I discovered girls ) 
I chose something like that….

My eighth was a ginchey
space helmet with ear plug
and a wire antenna that
worked on the tin can
and string principle.

High tech, right ?

Hey, it came
with a bonus –
– what else,
but another ray gun ?

By the time I was nine,
I had every space gizmo
that could be rendered
into a cheap plastic toy
I could get my greedy,
grubby little hands on –

– a lot of my friends had
lost interest in theirs,
and I seized my chance
to build a virtual empire
of used, unwanted
galactic space junk.

Unfortunately, that’s
about the time my
hormones really kicked in –

– so, my universal take-over
would, quickly enough,
be put on indefinite hold,
but it all got stashed
away safely in the garage,
for the day when my space
empire-building days would
return with a vengeance.

Unfortunately,
then,
of course,
came the
infamous
“garage-cleaning”
incident –

— where-in,
somehow or other,
all of my astral treasures
were confused with trash
and jettisoned into the
deep-vacuum
of the local dump.

Nobody really
has a good
explanation on how all
that happened —

Hmmmm.

My Mother claims that
she was busy cleaning
the upstairs bathroom
when it happened ….

— and my Father
asserted until the
day he died that
the rental truck that
he was seen driving
was in no way
related to the
mysterious
disappearance.

Sure,
a likely story, man.

!!!! HOY !!!!!

Cooking Claptrap

It’s always nice to
get interesting
picture submissions —
although sometimes,
it can be an exercise
in ambivalence.

My friend Jen was nice
enough to send me a
couple of vintage recipe
cards that made me
very happy,
and awful queasy,
at the same time. 

After all —
the above recipe card
calls for making
something called
” Crown Roast
Of Frankfurters “-

— in other words,
Hot Dog-A-La-Fancy-Pants.

I dunno how many words
I can find to express my
horror at this idea, but :

YUCK
REPULSIVE
GROSS
OVERBLOWN
and NASTY
come immediately to mind.

We’re not even gonna try
to deduce what that
off-white whipped looking
crap ( with pimentos? )
is on top of that mess —

Carrots?
Yeah,
so maybe they’re carrots.

Even worse.

Oh, and look —
it’s got Broccoli, too.

Can you say :
Burn The Cook At The Stake ?

Yeah.
Simple torture’s not good
enough for him, man.

Look.
I don’t have anything
against hot-dogs….

I love a giant all-beef dog
served Chicago style.

But don’t crap in my bowl
and tell me it’s
molasses and oatmeal.

That’s just wrong,
man, wrong.

And then,
for a side course,
I guess you could have
the ‘Jello and Limp
Leftover Vegetables’ salad…..

AUUUUGGGGHHH
— my poor digital tummy !!!!!!

I’m almost speechless at
the level of feeble, uninspired,
commercialized-crapola-cooking
shown in these recipes.

What I can say is –
these aren’t the only
horrible vintage
recipes out there.

And you can rest assured,
we here at the
Muscleheaded Blog
will keep you updated
and informed about ’em
as we find em.

Hey-
we’re only doing our duty.

!!!!! CHEERS !!!!!!

The Accordion Is For You

Hey man,
I don’t know
if you’ve gotten
the word or not,
but:
Accordions are IN !

Like,
you know —

far out
and groovy.

Just ask the cool ghouls
who rule in school.

I don’t care
what you
might have heard
about those
new fangled
electric guitars,
fretless basses,
and fancy organs
with different
instrument sounds
built right in —

If you really
wanna be
part of the
‘in’ crowd,
the accordion
is for you.

Jimi who ?
Eric what?

Forget all that
cultural hysteria
claptrap man.

You wanna be
ultra cool
like this guy.

(No creepy
mustache required)

And because
the accordion
is so cool,

– and, of course,
in such high
demand…

… well,
they’re having
a big, big, big
sale on them.

Easy terms –
5 day free trial.

Look how easy it is —

Hey, she’s lugging
one that’s half as
big as her, and
she’s still smiling.

A coupla keys,
a coupla buttons,
a coupla squeezes,
and you’re fuckin’
Lawrence Welk.

And we all know
how cool he was.

Wunnerful,
Wunnerful.

.

PS:
if you’re really into the accordion,
you know we’re just messin’ with ya, right?
Check out my buddy GoodStuff’s
post on the squeezebox.

HOY !!!

.

It’s Enough to Gag Ya

vintageHey…

I know you have a
busy schedule and all,
but you’d better start
keeping track of the
more important ones,
ya know……

 

After all,
June 10th
is National Purple
Kumquat Day.

I hope you got all
your decorations
up for it,

cause otherwise
Koolio the Purple
Kumquat Day Koala
will be very, very angry…..

…. and you’ll find yourself
on the list.

And you don’t want
THAT to happen.

Actually, I ended
up on that list
one year,
….. and found
something like this,
hanging on
my festive
bamboo tree.a11

Yes, it’s a vintage
1950’s toilet seat cover –

Back then,
home-owners gifted
with a particularly
unique sense
of scatological mirth
could put it
on their guest room toilet,
for the purpose of having
some innocent fun —

…… and maybe,
depending on the guest,
I would venture to guess,
to get the rules straight.

Peeing on the floor
is such bad formaqgag
from a stranger, ya know.

Welcome to the world
of what they used to
call ‘gag’ gifts —

…..from back in the days
when things like this
would make women blush
and men howl with laughter.

Umm, yeah.

Har-dee-Har Har.

I do gotta admit
you don’t see
stuff like that around
much anymore.

I remember when they’d
be an obligatory part of any
grown-up’s birthday party —

….. and us kids would just
shake our heads
and pretend
we didn’t get the
adult’s cornball
humor.

I’ve gotten my share
of these kinds of
gifts, myself.

A girl I was dating
gave me one of these –

pek

I don’t remember
if it was before,
or after we got…
errrr….  well acquainted.

a1

I’m thinking ‘after‘.

It looks like that one’s
from the 1970’s or so,
but I also found its
grand-daddy from the 1940’s.

I know a lot of you
share my innate sense
of scientific and
historical curiosity…..

And as far as I can see,
the whole ‘size doesn’t matter’
adage hasn’t changed
|much over the years.

It’s always been
total horseshit.

Still, I’ve got nothing
against being a teaser.

Hey, it’s a grow-er,
not a show-er, man.

But, mocking a male’s deep
seated genitalia-inferiority
complex was just one of the
many ways these gag gifts
could make one the
life of the party.

Sure–

there’s plenty of gags
aimed at women’sflats
complexes, too.

This one has a brightly covered box that advertises a do-it-yourself ‘flats fixed” kit.

Inside — what else — rubber falsies.

Somehow, that joke just wouldn’t carry one of
my parties these days,
but it musta been worth
the .79 cents back then.highball

Speaking of parties, I remember the old folks, when they’d throw a broohaha, would always be talking about having “High Balls”.

Then, I started hearing about even more exotic stuff— like ‘Sex On The Beach’, ‘Buttery Nipples’, and “Slow Comfortable Screws’.

When I was all grown up, I was bound and determined to find out what kinda ultra sexy,
demented, underground
thing they were talking about….

It turned out that they
were just talking about booze.

High Balls, Cock Tails,
Screws, Nipples…..
all the same thing.

What a let down.

And, that, in essence,
is what these ‘gag’ gifts are all about.

Feeling a wonderful sense of expectation, followed by a humiliating let-down.

Like the year I was told,
on the sly, that I
was getting a new
motorcycle for Christmas.

And I did get one.

I still have it.pinkpanther

Here it is.

Actually, it’s a Corgi ‘Pink Panther’ motorcycle toy–

British made, and somewhat collectible in the U.S. now.

I wasn’t impressed at the time, though.

Misleading might be an
accurate description of most ‘gag’ gifts…

b1I know,

I must be a bit gullible,
……. but those things always get me.

And, to add insult to injury, they’re still making the damned things.

Here’s something the manufacturers call a “Remote Control for Women”.

It claims to be able to ‘make her do what you want’.

It has controls for ‘forgive’, ‘forget’, ‘sex’, ‘beer’, ‘moaning’, ‘remove clothes’,
…. and much, much more.

Also a ‘hurry up’ button,
along with one that’s labeled ‘calm down’.

And, of course, a ‘mute’ button.

That thing couldn’t possibly work.

Could it ? ?

Ummmmm…………

.

.