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I'd rather be late for work than just late. ...
I'm stealing that line.
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I'd rather be late for work than just late. ...
We all remember the scene at Jack Rabbit Slim's, the retro-'50s diner in "Pulp Fiction" ("a wax museum with a pulse," as Vincent Vega put it), where Mia Wallace orders a five-dollar milkshake. That seemed an outrageous price for a milkshake in 1994, when the film was released and when it was set, more or less.
"A wax museum with a pulse." That's a darned good description of many an ersatz commercial establishment. There's a place about half a mile from where I sit at present called Rosie's Diner. The structure itself is an authentic, built-in-a-factory and trucked-to-the-site-in-pieces, stainless steel-clad diner. But the decor is just waaaaay too kitschy and contrived.
... is the Dave Kingman of movie making - he swings for the fences, hits some incredible homers and makes the middle of some games incredibly exciting, but whiffs a lot as well.
A name I haven't heard for some time. KingKong later played for the Yankees if I recall correctly.
Although this is probably something that would fit better in the Things That Will (or Have) Disappear(ed) In Your Lifetime thread, I'm putting it here due to LM's shoveling snow photo.
What has apparently disappeared for me is the ability to safely shovel snow, according to my cardiologist. He is of the opinion that I should hire a couple of teenagers instead of doing it myself, and of course relayed to me the most gruesome example of a guy 18 years my junior with no history of heart trouble who dropped dead after shoveling his car out. However, I have no idea how or where I'm gonna find anyone to shovel my car out pre-sunrise when I leave for work.
This gettin' old stuff sucks . . . but the alternative is worse.
We all remember the scene at Jack Rabbit Slim's, the retro-'50s diner in "Pulp Fiction" ("a wax museum with a pulse," as Vincent Vega put it), where Mia Wallace orders a five-dollar milkshake. That seemed an outrageous price for a milkshake in 1994, when the film was released and when it was set, more or less.
"A wax museum with a pulse." That's a darned good description of many an ersatz commercial establishment. There's a place about half a mile from where I sit at present called Rosie's Diner. The structure itself is an authentic, built-in-a-factory and trucked-to-the-site-in-pieces, stainless steel-clad diner. But the decor is just waaaaay too kitschy and contrived.
That scene is one of the best scenes in any movie ever (top 25 anyway) and the broader sequence - the entire "date -" is incredible. Tarantino is the Dave Kingman of movie making - he swings for the fences, hits some incredible homers and makes the middle of some games incredibly exciting, but whiffs a lot as well.
We have several of those ersatz places in NYC as well which surprises me as we also have several real-deal, old-school ones. Hence, why go contrived when you can see the real thing?
Those kinds of places are like teeth crunching into aluminum foil to me. The decor is always "The Fifties," in all their dopey poodle-skirted glory, even though the real heyday of the stainless-steel diner was actually the 1930s.
You are correct. And he played for a few others as well - but like Montana and the 49ers, Kingman was a Met, everything else is superfluous.
But phony '50s sells better, apparently. It's been "a thing" since the 1970s. (Maybe even earlier than that, come to think of it. Sha Na Na, the novelty retro-'50s act, played Woodstock, in 1969.)
My goodness, I had forgotten about that thread.We had a good thread about just that subject a few years back in the Golden Era forum. Except for a few who got pretzel-pantsed about any aspect of their generation being critiqued, a lot of good points got brought out.
A few years back we drove into Brigham City for a break from the road. It was the beginning of Peach Fest and the streets were lined with lawn chairs as folks had staked out their viewing spot for tomorrow's parade. I remarked that if that happened back home they would either be stolen or trashed. Deciding to NOT attend the crowning of the Peach Queen we walked in to a soda fountain that was legit from the '30s I think. It had a very long counter made of marble, stools covered in cracked naughahyde and dark wood panelled walls. We had an expensive milkshake that took about 10 minutes to make as they used real peaches and hand scooped ice cream. It was in many ways gratifying to see something just old, not tarted up to look, not glorified in a nostalgic way, just old and decidedly not modern.But phony '50s sells better, apparently. It's been "a thing" since the 1970s. (Maybe even earlier than that, come to think of it. Sha Na Na, the novelty retro-'50s act, played Woodstock, in 1969.)
My mother and father, born in 1912 and 1915 never spoke nostalgically about the 20, 30,and even the 40`s. They were born dirt poor in Prairie towns and they may have had the odd fond memory of their youth but mostly it was something, someplace to leave in the past.While what you say is true, who here remembers first hand the 1920s? I was borpoor the 1940s but my memories really only start in the 1950s. By then, the trains didn't stop in my hometown anymore. But nobody talked about how they missed the passenger trains. In fact, nobody talked about the old days in any nostalgic way.
I also don't remember any soda fountains or lunch counters that had a juke box (juke joint?). Where I lived, only three drug stores had lunch counters, one of which also had booths. It was a time when most business were "downtown" (in a town of maybe 8,000 people), so there was a real lunchtime crowd outside going somewhere to eat. Besides the lunch counters, there were a few diners and small restaurants close enough to where most of the people were, close enough to walk, that is, and that was just about it. There were two drive-in restaurants with curb service and a few fancy restaurants that were mostly for the evening crowd, rather than for lunch.
I don't know of any place in town that had a juke box but they were probably in places where I never went. The fifties were almost over before I became a teenager.
My mother and father, born in 1912 and 1915 never spoke nostalgically about the 20, 30,and even the 40`s. They were born dirt poor in Prairie towns and they may have had the odd fond memory of their youth but mostly it was something, someplace to leave in the past.