Dystopia 1950's!

A Tale of the Future Told Through

 Advertising Slogans of the Past 

John stumbled through the wreckage that was his basement and pushed aside the shattered door to the outside.  All around him was devastation and rubble. Where were the colors of nature, the green, the red, the yellow? 

He wondered where the yellow went.

John found a package of cigarettes in the dirt and lit up. The cigarette tasted good like a cigarette should. Down the road he saw a young woman approaching.

"Please, sir, I beg you," said the young woman. "May I have a cigarette?"

John extended the pack toward her. "You've got your own cigarette now, baby. You've come a long long way."

"I have come a long way indeed," she replied. "I feel like I've seen the whole USA on foot! Frankly I'd rather see the USA in my Chevrolet." 

"What has happened?" John asked.

"It was that maniac President Trump," the girl shouted. “He let his fingers do the walking on the nuclear button!"

"Oh, no!  And Snap, Crackle, Pop, everything was gone?"

"Yes, but I did my part. I voted for Hillary."

"Me too," said John.  "The Obama Administration was a pleasure. If only Hillary had won we could have doubled our pleasure, doubled our fun!"

"May I travel with you?" asked the girl. "I'm Allison." 

"Yes, Allison," said John, "but I have no means of transport either.  In fact I'd walk a mile for a camel."

"A camel?" Allison laughed. “I’d be willing to take a greyhound, and I'd drive it too."

"That way we could Go Greyhound and leave the driving to us."

John and Allison set out on an arduous journey in search of any others who may have survived. Suddenly a storm kicked up!  

"Allison, let's find cover.  When it rains, it pours!”

"If only we'd brought umbrellas, John," Allison cried.

"You're right.  From now on don't leave home without them!"

"So much water everywhere, Allison!"

"You know, you're soaking in it!"

"Look, it's finally slowing down!"

"Oh, that's good! Good to the last drop.”

As the storm ended, the two continued on their way.

"Did you know, John, before the cataclysm there was a train used to regularly travel through here?"

"Yes, I do. Once upon a time there was an engineer. Choo Choo Charlie was his name, we hear."

"He had an engine and he sure had fun. He used GOOD & PLENTY candy to make his train run."

"Talk about alternative energy!" said John.

Allison and John continued their journey through the barren landscape.

The longer they were together, John began to wonder "Does she or doesn't she?"  

Although he was embarrassed about his frankly small size, one night he could take it no longer and made his move.

"Where's the beef?" asked Allison.

"Trust me," said John. “A little dab'll do ya.  

"M’mm! M’mm! Good!” Allison moaned.

“Melts in your mouth,” said John, “not in your hand!”

“How did you get to be so wonderful at sex, John?” cooed Allison.

"We try harder."

"Finger lickin' good!"

The next day the two set off again.  After they’d walked a number of miles, John turned to Allison and said “I’ve a feeling we’re going to come to a village full of very nice people.”

“Do you promise me?” she said.

“Yes, I promise, but I don’t yet know the name of the village.”

A few miles later they saw a sign that said “Arpege.”

“I promised you anything, but I gave you Arpege,” said John.

As they approached the village a tall friendly man came to greet them.

“My name is Marlboro," he said. "Welcome to Arpege, also known as Marlboro Country."

“How have you and your people survived, Mr. Marlboro?” asked John.

"Only those morons that voted for Trump were destroyed. When Trump pushed the nuclear button, there was a loud  'plopping noise' and every person who was stupid enough to vote for him dissolved!  And all of us rejoiced!"

"I see," said John. "So it was Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is!" 

“Now we can rebuild civilization," Marlboro continued. "Our motto is LSMFT.”  

“Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco?”

“No. Let’s Start Making a Future Together.”

"May we help you?" asked Allison."

"Yes, of course.  What do you two think of our plans for a bright future without Trump?" 

John and Allison looked at one another and raised their voices as one:

“They’re GRRRRREAT!!!"

The End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

List of Slogans

Most of the commercial slogans in the story above are from the Fifties with a smattering from the 60's, 70's, and 80's.   In order, they are:

1) You'll wonder where the yellow went, when your brush your teeth with Pepsodent. 

2) Winston Tastes Good Like a Cigarette Should.

3) You've got your own cigarette now, baby. You've come a long long way.  Virginia Slims Cigarettes.

4) See the USA in your Chevrolet. 

5) Let your fingers do the walking through the Yellow Pages.

6) Snap, Crackle, Pop, Rice Krispies

7) Double your pleasure, double your fun. Double Mint Gum. 

8) I'd walk a mile for a Camel.  Camel Cigarettes.

9) Go Greyhound and Leave the Driving to Us. Greyhound Buses.

10) When it rains, it pours. Morton's Salt.

11) Don't leave home without them. American Express

12) You're soaking in it. Palmolive Liquid with Madge the manicurist.

13) Good to the last drop. Maxwell House Coffee

14) Once upon a time there was an engineer. Choo Choo Charlie was his name, we hear. He had an engine and he sure had fun. He used GOOD & PLENTY candy to make his train run. Good and Plenty

15) Does she or doesn't she? Clairol

16) Where's the Beef?  Wendy's

17) A little dab'll do ya. Brylcreem

18) M’mm! M’mm! Good!  Campbell's Soup

19) Melts in your mouth, not in your hand! M&M's

20) We try harder. Avis Rent-a-Car

21) Finger Lickin' Good. Kentucky Fried Chicken

22) Promise her anything but give her Arpege. Arpege Perfume.

23) Come to Marlboro Country. Marlboro Cigarettes

24) Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is.  Alka-Seltzer  

25) LSMFT.  Lucky Strike means fine tobacco. 

26) “They’re GRRRREAT!”  Tony the Tiger.  Kellogg's Frosted Flakes.

Get Back, Loretta!

Back in the day many of my generation were inspired to protest the Vietnam War and support other noble causes, and I was no exception.  I was motivated by high ideals --- and the desire to meet girls and encounter generous fellow protesters packing really good dope.

And in this respect I was hardly alone.

One cold winter's day several of us traveled to Washington to participate in a march opposing the Vietnam War. There were large numbers of young counter-cultural types everywhere around us, and at a distance in which opera glasses would have been a blessing was a speaker who might as well have been singing opera for all my freezing ears were able to hear.

"Do you know who that is?" I asked a freaky looking guy on a nearby blanket.

"Oh, yes," he said "that's Loretta Young."

Loretta Young? 

For those of post Baby Boomer years, Loretta Young was an elegant and somewhat straight-laced actress who starred in an elegant and somewhat straight-laced television program called, oddly enough, The Loretta Young Show.

She belonged at a peace rally about as much as I belonged at a convention of North American Hunters and Trappers.

Did someone lace Loretta Young’s tea sandwich with potent acid? Had she been auditing courses at MIT taught by Noam Chomsky? Was she about to burn her bra in front of us all?"

"That’s not Loretta Young," said a bearded gent carrying a peace sign.

“No? Who is it?" 

"Coretta Scott King.”

The widow of Martin Luther King and a prominent civil rights leader in her own right.

Coretta Scott King.  Loretta Young.

“The names do sound alike,” I thought.

I had never quite realized before how many of the others around me were so much like me.

Nothing really wrong with that, but …

I pushed forward through the cold to try to see and hear as much of Mrs. King as I could. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And what of  the real Loretta Young?  Perhaps she wasn't so straight-laced after all. It has been subsequently learned that she had a love child with fellow actor Clark Gable.

For at least one brief moment, it seems she really did let her freak flag fly. 

The Bobby Fishman Rule, or Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?

Not actually us, but you get the idea. 

"Now that you're headed to college in the fall, Brandon," I said, "it's time we had a certain little chat."

"Dad, it may be a little late for that," Brandon replied.  "Don't forget, we've been subscribed to HBO ever since I was being potty trained!"

"Not that conversation, Bran, " I said. "The one about,  you  know ... cannabis sativa."

"Oh, that one!  Okay, sure, what did you want to discuss?"

"Well, Bran, I'm not going to be hypocritical and tell you not to experiment with marijuana. You may not believe it, but I experimented a bit myself!"

"R-e-e-e-a-a-a-l-l-l-y, Dad?  I had no idea!"

"Sure.  Back in the day.  A tad bit."

"How much is a tad bit?"

"Fourteen years.  But I didn't inhale!"

"Oh, yes, makes all the difference."

"Now, there are some important things you should keep in mind to be safe should you ever decide to sample marijuana."

"Such as?"

"Don't get involved with drug dealers, only buy small amounts from people you know & trust,  and don't smoke it or even walk around with it outside!" 

"Right, Dad. And  whenever you start to think 'gee, this party or this weekend won't be any fun if I'm not high,' that's when you've got a problem!"

"That's right, Bran.  Not that I ever came to feel that way!"

"Of course not.  Anything else, Dad?" 

"Yes, there's one more thing:  The Bobby  Fishman Rule.''

"The Bobby Fishman Rule?  What's the Bobby Fishman Rule?"

"In any group, there's always some guy who will tell you that no matter how wasted he is, no matter how much dope he's smoked, he's okay to drive and it's safe to take a ride with him anywhere."

"OH, NO, DAD! You can never trust people like that! Never get in that car!"

"That's exactly what I mean.   Y'see, I used to know this guy named Bobby Fishman who was always saying he could drive just fine when high."

"I get it! This Bobby Fishman character was always after you to ride with him when he was stoned, and you always said "NO!"

"Well ... um ... always is kind of a strong word and  ... Yes, that's right! I always said no!" 

"Good for you, Dad!  

"Although there was the one time we were going to Boston ... I mean, he was going to Boston and I thought maybe I might ..."

"Proud of you, Dad! You said "NO" to a trip to Boston with a stoner!"

"I did?  Oh ... yes, I did!"

"And that's the Bobby  Fishman Rule, right, Dad?"

"That's the Bobby Fishman Rule!"

"Thanks for this little chat, Dad.  I'm glad to know we can discuss important things like this together."

"I'm glad too, Bran.  Umm ... Bran?

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Every now and then, can we go over that Bobby Fishman Rule again?" 

"Sure, Dad.  Anytime you want."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you liked this post, you might also like Sixties' Speak - Then and Now,  Sixties vs. Seventies, and Why Can't He Be Eight or Alley Oop!

If you hated this post, I hope the next taxi you hail is driven by the real Bobby Fishman!

*******************

 And remember, kids, never get in the car with anyone driving who's high, no matter what they say!

The Cosmic Case of Role Reversal

Yes.  Cosmic!

Last Thursday my 18 year old son Brandon and I were watching TV when he turned to me and said:

"Dad, I think it's time to get a haircut."

For anyone who grew up in the late 60's/early 70's who'd ever encountered a similar remark from someone of a dissimilar generation, this was indeed a  moment of role reversal of cosmic proportions. If the child is father to the man, how did the millennial child ever come to make the same statement to the Baby Boomer father that the Greatest Generation father made to the Baby Boomer child some forty odd years ago?

It began the day I went to get the picture taken for my new driver's license.  I saw sunken eyes, dark circles, shriveled skin, minimalist hair, and a weary paleness that begged for a rocker and warm buttermilk,  and not only did the PA state photographer look like that but the picture affixed to my new driver's license did as well! 

The best way to deal with all this unsightly sightliness, I  determined, was to cover as much of it as possible, and as it had been years since I danced the Dance of the Seven Veils, the second best cover-up seemed a beard. And thus, a month and a half and a couple of applications of Just for Men (dark brown) later, the first Perry Block beard of the new century was born.

Now to me, as well as to many of my era,  a beard equals long hair like E =MC2 and one and one and one is three.  So I began to let my hair grow, ignoring the two major concerns that long hair wouldn't work with my old face and  that I didn't have enough on top to carry longer hair on the sides and would wind up looking like Clarabelle the Clown from the Howdy Doody TV show of 1950's fame and of  my youth. 

But I pushed on, aided by a myriad of hair thickening products and the resurrection of a hair dryer so dormant the instruction book actually includes the picture on the left. And over time as my hair grew I was beginning to feel serene in my perhaps fool's paradise --- but paradise nonetheless --- of my latter day return to hippie dippie freakdom.

That is, until that express moment of cosmic role reversal when while watching  TV my son turned to me and said:

"Dad, I think it's time to get a haircut."

"But why, Brandon?  Do I not look retro-sixties? Do I not look ... dare I say... cool?"

"Yes, Dad, you look retro-sixties for a guy in his sixties.  Cool?  I'll leave that up to a woman in her sixties." 

"What I take it you're saying, Brandon," I countered,  "is either the long hair doesn't work with my older looking face or I don't have enough on top to carry the longer sides."

"Yes, Dad, both of those.  For starters."
  
"For starters?!  Brandon, I think you're being kind of unfair!"

"And I think you're being kind of unkempt.  And I think you wanna be kempt!" 

"I think I see the problem," I said, now full on exasperated.  "You're assuming that my longer hair is some kind of political statement, which it is not."

"Dad, long hair hasn't been a political statement since, well ... since you had enough of it.  And the only political statement  your hair could possibly make  is "Seize the Power of the Condo Association!"

The Cosmic Fates were now fully aligned. Would I stand tall, or would I sell out to the man ... or in this case, to the boy? 

"I'll get a haircut, Brandon, when I'm good and ready!" I shot back defiantly,  just as I had so many years ago.

"How about 9:30 tomorrow morning?" said Brandon, picking up the receiver and beginning to dial.

"I won't be good and ready, "I replied steadfastly, "until at least 10:30!  Maybe not even til 11:00."

I guess the Fates will push even the most cosmic case of role reversal only so far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 .... and his hair was perfect!  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you liked this post, you might also like Why Can't He Be Seven?, News on the Radio, and Bedtime Story.

If you hated this post, OMG, it's incredible, all your hair just fell out! 

Most Obnoxious: Fox News or MSNBC?

Fox News' O'Reilly and Hannity;

Obnoxious yes, but will they earn the brass ring?

At long last, everyone, it's time to vote!

Obama vs. Romney? 

Nah, we were sick of those two long ago.

It's time to vote in the all-important election to determine which of America's two most highly celebrated highly biased television networks is the most obnoxious:

Fox News or MSNBC?

In the right corner we have Fox News, that handmaiden of the Republican Party owned by Rupert Murdoch,  that hand queen of the Republican Party. These guys are so ideologically pure they make a right on a red and everywhere else too.  Fox News is as American as mom, apple pie, and an AK-47,  especially when mom is blasting away at the apple pie with the  AK-47 as target practice in case President Obama shows up to take away her guns. 

In the left corner we have MSNBC, whose slogan is "Lean Forward As Long As You Lean Left." MSNBC believes strongly that the voices of all Americans should be heard except those of Republicans in the House of Representatives.  Ready to right every social wrong and always on the side of the angels, these guys prove demonstrably how hanging with the Devil might be a hell of lot more fun.

Ten Reasons Why Fox News is the Most Obnoxious

1) Fair and Balanced?   Fox News is about as "fair" as Hurricane Sandy and as "balanced" as Governor Christie on the opposite end of a seesaw with .... well, uh .... just about anybody.

2) Use of Sarah Palin as expert commentator highly questionable when the far more intellectual and articulate Victoria Jackson  continuously available.

3) Fox Special Reports all produced by ghost of P.T Barnum.

4) Bill O' Reilly?   A dick.   An entertaining dick to be sure, but a dick.

5) Miss Alan Colmes, Sean Hannity?  Without the goofiest looking liberal in America to make you look marginally handsome,  you have all the charisma of a  slab of meat but without the political insight. 

6) Fox All-Stars =  Fox Fallen Stars when Chris Wallace and Brit Hume aboard the panel. 

7) Cynical use of babe anchors like Megyn Kelly calculated to mislead naive and impressionable younger viewers into believing there are such things in real life as Republican women who are hot.

8)  Sneering  condescending manner in which President Obama frequently referred to as "this President."  C'mon,  guys, haven't you ever considered the possibility that Mr. Obama may actually be "That President!"?

9) Attention, Charles Krauthammer: There are  expressions of which the human face is capable other than  grimacing.  Please try one next time you're telling Bret Baier how it's been a such "a  pleasure" to be spouting ideology with him.

10) Dennis Miller just as unfunny, self-absorbed, and annoying as a conservative as he was as a liberal.  Well, at least he's consistent in some things.

Ten Reasons Why MSNBC is the Most Obnoxious

1) Unlike Fox News, does not claim to be Fair and Balanced.  Virtually screams at you right up front that it is "Obama's Bitch."

2) Frothy the Showman:  Chris Matthews regularly raises frothing at the mouth to high art as he jaws open his show, interviews himself,  has dinner with himself commenting on the excellent dinner conversation, goes home with himself, has sex with himself, and goes to bed.   And the next day, he wakes up ....

3) And the Emmy  for "Most Blatant Misuse of High Intellect for the Purpose of Haranguing and Condescending Rather than Informing and Educating"  goes to .... once again ....  Rachel Maddow!

4) The Place for Politics?  I'll say!  Certainly not the place for anything nobler.

5) Advanced supercomputer required to count number of times in one hour Al Sharpton says "Mr. Romney has to be desperate to engage in such dishonest, fraudulent, sleazy, disgusting, and highly fattening campaign tactics as calling President Obama a "boinker!"

6) Advanced supercomputer required to count number of times in one hour Sharpton guests such as Dana Milbank, Catherine Crier, and even Ed Rendell  rocket back "Absolutely, Rev!" as if  programmed to do so by Rudd Weatherwax, legendary trainer of Lassie.

7) Sure as hell wouldn't want to be caught dead by Melissa Harris-Perry reading a copy of Atlas Shrugged when taking one of her political science courses at Tulane University.

8) Martin Bashir.  Cool accent!  Uncool annoying bias.

9)  Guys, we used to be able to make fun of Fox News with impunity and without reservation. We had them looking like the idiots they are,  and you felt a need to copy them?!!

10) Chris Matthews?  Not a dick.  But can do a really  good impression of one. 


So why should you vote in the Great Fox News vs. MSNBC Election? It's not as if there will be a winner, will there?

Well, remember what it is that you are voting for.  You're voting to determine which of the two television networks is the most obnoxious, not which one is obnoxious while the other isn't. That means that whenever you may watch one ---  should you ever watch one at all --- you already know that what you're watching is opinion/entertainment/bullshit and not at all the news. 

And that, at the very least, makes you a winner!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MSNBC's Sharpton and Matthews

  







 "Did they win the contest, Chris?"                      
                                                                             "No, Rev.  We have not yet begun to annoy!"                                                                  

Sixties’ Speak - Then and Now

Now ....

I can't exactly say that I’d like to go back and relive the era of the 60’s. 

Then again, right now I’m experiencing a different era of the 60’s. Between the two I’ll take the first one --- cannabis-stained knuckles, fingers, and hands, hands-down! 

It seems incredible that’s it’s been over 40 years since those days of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll, and for me, well, two out of three wasn’t bad.  Much has changed in our culture since then, including our language.  Many of the old phrases are still around, but the meanings aren't quite the same.

Ready, Boomers?

Far Out! --- Once an exclamation of excitement, wonderment, and radical possibilities.  Now for many Boomers,  a belt size.

Roach Clip --- Once a tweezers-like holder for marijuana cigarette remnants. Now the realization that your exterminator has overcharged the hell out of you. 

Right On! --- Once a cry of solidarity and brotherhood. Now a shout out that your chip shot on the 11th has managed to trickle on up to the green.

Establishment --- Once the power, the Man, the established order you had to fight. Now the hot corner bistro you can’t afford.

Oh Wow! --- Once an exclamation of joy and exhilaration. Now an apt response when you open your cable bill.

Dope --- Once as in “This is really good shit, man.” Now as in “This man really doesn’t know shit!”

No. 9 --- Once an enigmatic phrase in a  John Lennon authored recording by the Beatles. Now the second and generally one of the weaker jokes in a Letterman Top Ten List.

Power to the People! --- Once a cry for freedom, justice, and equality.  Now the option to select your electricity supplier.

Getting Off Now --- Once the pleasured sensation that a drug experience was about to begin. Now an exhausted goodbye to your co-worker as you exit the 6:15 out of Center City.

Heavy --- Once a heart-felt designation of relevance and truth. Now just about anything we Baby Boomers try to lift.

In thinking back to the Sixties, much of the language we spoke was indeed self-indulgent and pretentious.  But a lot of it was more like Yiddish; that is, able to express thoughts and feelings in a word or phrase for which there was no equivalent in English, or anywhere else.

And with all its foibles and excesses, there was no equivalent - and never will be - for the 1960’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

.... and Then