Archive for the ‘50’s’ Category


I don’t know exactly what they teach at this so called “Ding Dong School,” but I don’t like the way Red’s looking at me.


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Unable to find the latex love glove that he could have sworn he stuck in his pocket before he left the house, Bobby is forced to take advantage of the Roller Rink’s free condoms to kids over 11 policy.


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I’m no child health expert, but I’d say when you find your kid eating with a shovel, maybe it’s time to scale back on the Cocoa Puffs.

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“But Mommy, I don’t understand.  I’m the only kid in the whole school who has a mom whose legs have to be bolted to a metal stool to keep her standing upright.  Why can’t you just be like all the other moms?”

“Now, honey.  I’ve explained to you about our family history and Splayed Leg Teeter Totter Syndrome.  You should just be glad that the gene skipped you.  And it could be worse.  Remember your dear old Grandma?”


“Yes, Mommy.  You’re right.  I’m ever so glad that I don’t have to Ride the Roll like Grandma. Now let me slide you into the kitchen so you can make me some jello.”

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Tooties And Tallywackers


Audrey Walsh (possible daughter of Mary Walsh?) takes her therapy sessions with the school psychologist a little too much to heart:

NO, Marci.  Audrey told you.  Do not speak to her directly.  Speak only to me and Leo.  She will only converse with you through us, her puppet pals.  Now, back to our good touch/ bad touch discussion.  Do you know where your HooHa is?

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Night of the Smiling Dead

I think it’s extremely innovative of McCall’s to use pattern models that are CLINICALLY DECEASED.

Like her:



And her:


Here she is again (after further decay):


I know it must be a handful for the photog assistants to get these gals strapped in and propped up, and I suspect that the smell wears you down after a long day of shooting.  But corpses are edgy and hip and they save a ton on model fees.

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That afternoon Hank came over to help Jim work on this car. He thought Jim was overcompensating with the enormous wrench but he couldn’t say anything, Jim was his best pal. They shared a pack of smokes and talked about old times. Hank wanted to tell him the truth, that wearing his wife’s handsewn Vogue ensembles made him no less of a man but he knew Jim would never listen.

Together, they lifted the wrench and tightened lug-nuts well into the evening, their manhood securely intact.

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