Taking down a tree considerably older than oneself can’t help but heighten one’s awareness of the impermanence of all things. Yet we strive, with varying degrees of success, to preserve what came before us. If there’s any one thing that keeps me coming back to this joint, it’s that it attracts...
The people who put together the Monkees show and recordings and all hired top-notch songwriters and studio musicians and four young men who were certainly good enough to do what was asked of them.
So was it contrived? Sure was. Inorganic as the Colonel’s mashed potatoes? Yup. But the entire...
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I’m just a little too young for any firsthand recollections of I Love Lucy when it was in production, but it seemed that reruns were broadcast nonstop throughout my childhood. And I never understood its popularity. Still don’t.
The Honeymooners, on the other hand …
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Yeah, that Carhartt workwear look is mostly wasted on me, too, on anyone other than people who actually get their hands (and clothes) dirty in the process of earning their daily bread.
But then, people once thought the same about blue jeans. These days plenty of people with soft hands...
I was born in Wisconsin and lived most of the first dozen years of my life there. I can’t say that I ever made sauerkraut myself, but oldtimer relatives did. They made sausage, too. And canned vegetables. Et cetera.
Those people are gone now. I doubt their survivors do any of that, or, if they...
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In many American cities the situation has flipped — the “inner cities” have gentrified, with housing now priced well out of reach for most of us working-class schmucks, while the suburbs are now where the relatively affordable housing is.
During a recent phone conversation with a fellow...
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Dawn Wells, who was practically the definition of cuteasabuttonandstillsexyashell in her portrayal of Mary Ann, died late last year. The ’vid pushed her over the edge.
One of my favorite garments, going back three or four decades, was a dark purple satin pajama top with white piping and big white buttons and a breast pocket. Three-quarter length sleeves, as I recall. I wore it in public frequently, a pack o’ Winstons in that pocket.
This place at times was more than a little off-puttingly square going back a decade or more ago. It was common to come across trash-talking about “hippies” and, more recently, “hipsters” around here. But wotthehell, it certainly isn’t that everything I said a decade and longer ago I would defend...
For far too many people, “freedom” means freedom to be an a**hole.
Isn’t there some online forum catering to fops that has members who get some creepy pleasure out of ridiculing the vintage-wearing fellows who post images of themselves here? I haven’t bothered looking it up myself (why subject...
Our sense of what is private and what isn’t has undoubtedly been influenced by the digital revolution. Same for what topics are fit for discussion. It has made effectively obsolete certain time, place, and manner restrictions. (Does it matter anymore that an “adult” bookstore can’t be sited...
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Even the courts can’t always agree on the answer to that question.
I once took a survey course on media law, as it was back then, before the Internet explosion. The course was designed to keep budding journalists from getting themselves and their publishers sued while still honestly...
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i can’t say I concur. But I think we can agree that media law has a lot of catching up to do with media itself.
I’d rather an image of me with a finger in my nostril while I was waiting at a red light not be spread far and wide. And it’s lost on me what entertainment value there might be...
Rhetorical question, right?
It’s a mean thing to do, and voyeuristic, and tasteless. But to the best of my knowledge it’s legal all across this fair land.
I’ll fly because it’s cheaper and a helluva lot faster, but I start counting down to arrival time from the moment I plop my ass in one of those narrow (but cheap!) airplane seats.
But if time isn’t the primary consideration, I’ll drive. And I still find it plenty romantic. I fully expect future...
It’s my habit, especially in warm weather, to walk around the house and grounds with my shirt unbuttoned, my hairy belly overhanging my waistband. If a neighbor or some passerby wishes to photograph me in such a state and put it online, well, okay. I hope the viewers get a kick out of it, if not...
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What am I not getting here? Are these not actually pajamas (or pyjamas, if you’d prefer), and therein lies the joke? Or is there something else in the photo that my tired old eyes aren’t picking up?
I clearly remember when women wore their hair in curlers while doing their grocery...
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