Yard Sale Bloodbath

Regular readers might remember us hitting a mid-summer crafters sale, along with me wandering around in shoes from the sale (something I would never do without meeting the person first — it’s a kooky rule, but it works for me. Like if I did get some foot cooties I could go back to the person’s house and confront them or something …)

Anyway, at that sale Jenny found a copy of Crafts for Retarded. No, really.

We had a discussion about who would buy it, which we seem to do on a regular basis. In the “one of us needs to buy that” sort of vein … and let’s get real, it’s usually me that takes the bait, since I have no will power.

What exactly is this book? Well, let me start by saying that some of the crafts look downright difficult. Many of them I probably couldn’t do now (and maybe that is saying more about me). Far as I can tell it’s a school aid or parent aid for teaching crafts to the mentally retarded.

This is the first edition from 1964 and lord knows how many printings they could have had. Hell, even growing up in the ’70s saying retarded was a NO-NO. Not that it’s stopped me from calling all of my friends retarded many, many times.

Shocking that even in 1964 they would use a swastika in this drum project.

Yes, I know that it’s a Native American symbol and you can tell me all day that it’s a symbol used for 100s of years, blah. There is no friggin’ way that it’s ever going to be okay to use in a children’s book.

Not only is the drum odd, but there’s a full-on product advertisement on page 53 for textile paint. This is in the table of contents.

I did think these “Phonograph Record Bowls” were pretty cool.

Wanna see a better cover? Awful Library Books uncovered a less scraped-up copy.

It is my pleasure today to share with you the insanity known as the Seattle Seahawks Gridiron Gourmet — a fundraiser cookbook from 1983 credited to “the Seattle Seahawks player’s wives.”

I purchased this at what we now refer to as “the freak sale.” It was in a box of wacky pamphlets that were priced at a firm $1 each. This was the only one I decided was worth it. And let me tell you, I have definitely gotten my dollar’s worth of entertainment from this baby! It’s like the Bad ’80s Hair edition of Awkward Family Photos, crossed with Gallery of Regrettable Food: The Next Generation.

The food in these photos actually has no bearing whatsoever to the featured recipe. For example, the recipe featured above is “Strawberry Trifle.” And despite this happy couple’s use of a pasta machine, their recipe is for something called “Baked Stew.”

It is kind of tragic that the food isn’t pictured. I can only imagine the glory of the “Pretzel Jello Salad” presented by this glamorous family.

Or the “Party Log” shared by these folks.

Oh yeah. Party Log. Ingredients: cream cheese, scallions, olives, and one small jar of dried beef. Sounds like a party to me!

The sheer datedness of this thing is pretty amazing. Here’s a shot where — if you can believe it — they have a whole role reversal thing going on. I mean, isn’t it wacky how the man is serving the food to the woman?! If that was ever to happen, they’d obviously be wearing the “wrong” clothes.

Their recipe is “Carrot Cake,” which seems sane enough, except for the inclusion of “3 small jars strained carrots (baby food).” (For completely unknown reasons, this is one of two baby-food-using carrot cake recipes.)

I think this next shot may also be trying to make some kind of commentary on the inability of the menfolk to perform simple food preparation tasks like putting together a sandwich. Though I suspect that trying to deconstruct these pictures is a losing battle.

There is definitely something a little off with a lot of these photos. Like this one — naturally, the accompanying recipe is “Frosted Peanut Butter Bars.”

Not to mention this. Football players, or serial killers?

In case anyone gets the wrong idea about these two, their “Buttermilk Pancake” recipe clearly states that it makes “about 15 bachelor-sized pancakes.” Get it? They’re not a couple. Just two bachelors, hanging out together, enjoying the finer things in life. Until Mrs. Right comes along and takes away their Bud and potato chips.

There isn’t much evidence for the cooking skills of some of the wives, either. There is no food in this photo, and the recipe is for “Russian Tea.” Bet you didn’t know there’s Tang in that.

These two, however, are shown with a bountiful array of produce. Clearly, they’re toasting their good fortune to be in possession of such a large zucchini.

The decor in these photos is also worth mentioning. In the sense that it’s practically non-existent.

Really, did everything just look wrong in the ’80s?

There were many more pages in this cookbook. Many, many more. But I think you get the idea. I’ll just leave you with one more of my favorite pages, which has a recipe for Rutabaga Apple Casserole. The photo that was chosen to go with that?

Yeah, I’m pretty sure this gem was worth $1.

When I think of the phrase “thrift store photos” I usually think of the weird kind of pictures you can sometimes find while thrifting. Here’s one stellar example:

(More of that good stuff here.)

Of course, “thrift store photos” can also mean photos depicting thrift stores. I found this link to a recent exhibition of thrift store photos by Brian Ulrich via the ever-fabulous Ars Longa site. The shots are great, ranging from the colorful to the kinda gross.

The exhibition reminds me of a little book I got for Christmas, Thrift Store: the Past & Future Secret Lives of Things. If you’ve spent much time in thrift stores, many of the photos in the book may seem altogether familiar, perhaps too familiar: stacks of board games, necklaces hanging on hooks, lonely dolls … all the kinds of things you come across when perusing thrift store aisles, shown here in one small dose after another until you almost feel like you’ve been in the thrift too long. According to her bio the author/photographer, Emily Larned, is an “avid thrifter,” and the book includes a few short essays about the nature of objects and how they are used, valued, and discarded. The kind of stuff you get to thinking about after your 500th thrift trip or 8000th yard sale.

As far as thrift store art, there’s plenty of documentation out there on artwork that was purchased in thrift stores. I was first introduced to this “genre” via Jim Shaw’s mindblowing 1992 book, Thrift Store Paintings. (After discovering the book I was lucky enough to get to see an exhibit of some of the paintings in San Francisco, similar to the one pictured here. That stuff is even scarier in person.)

Online, you can visit the PSB Gallery of Thrift Store Art and the Hi Art Thrift Store Art Gallery for more scary thrifted paintings than any one person should probably stand to take in. I’ve also seen a few recent examples where people have taken thrifted artworks (sometimes original, sometimes mass-produced) and then altered them to stunning effect (like the examples shown here).

Now, what about paintings (or perhaps scarier, sculptures) that show thrift store scenes? That’s something I haven’t managed to stumble across yet. But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time …

All right everyone … our recurring guest star, Leslie, has come through with an oh-so-special report for us! Take it away, Leslie …

As previously mentioned, we all went to a rather crusty estate sale that had been running for at least a month. The interior of the house was dusty, coated with spider webs, and stinky enough that I just kept thinking of the moist towelettes lurking in the bowels of my purse.

My purchases were very limited: one stick of Freedent Gum (possibly from the ’80s), a colorful Mexican aluminum decorative hanging thingy, and a BEWARE Of Cat sign. I don’t have a cat, but The Big Lebowski of cats on this sign looks like he’s chug-a-lugged an entire bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill wine.

Plus of course, the prize from the fetid basement: a copy of The Swiss Colony Christmas catalog. Oh forbidden fruit! My extended family were not Swiss Colony people, so I never got to sample the undoubtedly delicious array of Swiss Colony offerings. I flipped it open and saw a product called “Pet Gouda” that featured a telltale brown box with air holes and that unmistakable Pet Rock font. I figured that the catalog had to be from 1975 or ’76. Wrong! It’s from 1978, well after the Pet Rock fad had passed and had shuffled off to nerdsville. Perhaps those Swiss Colony marketeers had been living under a Pet Rock for three years.

The catalog features 124 pages of enticing foodstuffs that would cause normal humans to double their Pravachol dosage. I feel compelled to share the magic … and especially the grammatical errors, bizarre capitalizations, funky punctuation, and random quotation marks that The Swiss Colony lovingly inflicted on their customers. Ladies and gentlemen, this truly is catalog shopping as it was in the ’70s (minus parking your polyester-clad ass on a plaid couch and having What’s Happening playing on the TV in the background). I’m not going to bother with snarky comments that would taint the enticing descriptions you are about to read. Here is a sampling of the exact text and photos from a sampling of taste treats offered by The Swiss Colony in 1978.

Pet Gouda
Deep in the Jungles of Wisconsin lurks the fierce and terrible “Wild Gouda”, fleet of foot and savagely predatory! With the ruthless instincts of a cunning wild beast, only Kaptain Kubly our “great white hunter” could hope to track and capture him. NOW . . . after months of training and obedience school, we have a Pet Gouda for YOU! The same glowing, waxy red coat, but underneath lies the most mellow, creamy personality you can imagine. This mild-mannered, lovable pet, comes with his own specially designed crate. Everyone will enjoy a Pet Gouda.

BE-E-E-F-A-LOG
What is this year’s most novel gift . . . most exciting culinary creature? The BE-E-E-F-A-LOG,” of course! Such a popular refrigerator roamer. If you free it from it’s carrying cage, you’ve unleashed the incredibly delicious taste of fine, hickory smoked Beef Sausage. We warn you and your gift recipient to “Beware! It’s Viciously Delicious.” Available in 1 lb. and 2 lb. Logs. So clever, folks will remember you all year long!

Crazy Creme Puffs
Men from Mars! You’d think so but they’re really our NEW happy, lovable people. Their plump little bodies are made of delightful smooth cremes: Dobosh, Pistachio, Mint, Pecan, Almond and Walnut, all “dressed up” in dark and light frosting suits. Each is groomed from the tip of his toes to the top of his head with an irresistible happy smile! Eighteen 1 oz. Crazy Creme Puffs handmade of course, in our Pastry Kitchen.

Chocolate Humbugs
The most lovable little creatures ever! They are sure to win over the most discriminating chocolate lover. 12 “critters” have centers of fluffy Chocolaty Creme, so meltingly good with tender Coconut covering. Hand decorated with “peepers” and ever so carefully cradled in egg carton. Absolutely heavenly to taste (if you can bring yourself to do it!) Made especially for our customers. Shp. wt. 2 lbs.

Heavenly Hash
All bedded down on a pillow of white clouds… That’s impish yet angelic, Rudolph as he keeps his eagle eyes toward heaven as if to say, “Isn’t it Heavenly, me riding on such a delightfully delicious cloud!” His solid flavored chocolate goodness with his red nose and bow tie, lies upon a 6 ¼ x 9” Heavenly Hash pillow that’s made of Chocolate, Pecans, Marshmallows and Cashews. What angel wouldn’t smile on this 15 oz. bundle of joy! Shp. wt. 2 lb.

I’ll leave you with this little puzzler: just what flavor is “solid”?

Hmmm … puzzling, indeed! And I’d also like to point out that below this description they note that the design of Rodney Reindeer is copyrighted … wait, is it Rodney or Rudolph? Get it straight, people!

Thanks, Leslie. I suspect I’ll soon be calling you in the middle of the night for emotional support after waking up in a panic from nightmares about the BE-E-E-F-A-LOG.

So, in my last post I mentioned this “Master Detective” magazine that I picked up. I thought I would show you just a little bit of what’s inside. As you can see from the cover, there are some cheese-ariffic articles in there. Will anyone be surprised to learn that they’re not actually as interesting as they sound?

The only one I tried to really delve into was “Who’s Killing the ‘Great’ Pimps of Hamburg?” From what I can gather, it was a complicated rivalry brought on by diminishing economic circumstances between two rival groups of pimps called St. Pauli GmbH and the Nutella Prostitution and Drug Organization. (Nutella — no shit — though not affiliated with the actual product. The article says that the name “is a sort of joke, because Nuta is slang for prostitute in German and Nutella is the name of a well-known spread to be put on bread.” Oh, those funny pimps!) I could not be bothered to track all of the specific incidents and motivations (I might have needed to draw a chart), but I was amused by all of the nicknames, apparently required for any pimp in Germany: Handsome Michael, Chinese Fritz (who died “without having time to pay for his beer” — I’m sure he felt really bad about that), The Businessman, Karate Tommy, Vienna Karl, and Angie. At press time the “Hamburg War of the Pimps” was apparently still in progress.

Like many magazines of yesteryear, the really fun stuff is in the ads. There’s a preponderance of invitations to start some flourishing career or another. Be A Law Officer! Be An Electrician! Be A Locksmith! Get in on the profits in SMALL ENGINE service and repair! Upholstering just one chair … may pay you as much as your present week’s paycheck! The big, quick money is in VINYL REPAIR! There are also ads which promise riches while providing absolutely no indication of what the hell you are supposed to be doing, as well as the requisite ads full of cheesy products that you can supposedly resell for big bucks. The “Fastest Sellers for 1984″ include such gems as the Permanent Match, Dynamo Flash-Gun, Drinking Bird, and Automatic Needle Threader.

Some of these ads were pretty funny, but my favorites were found in a hodge-podge of tiny ads crammed into the last ten or so pages. The following four gems were in the same location over four subsequent pages. First, I give you this.

For Men Of Action: a “lifted” pouch for macho swagger. Oh yeah.

On the next page, we see what Today’s Man is all about: “almost invisible” man-panties.

It’s the coolest brief yet! But wait – then we have this:

Notice the ad right above it, too. “Sexy Girls In Your Area Want Men Of All Ages For Dates!” I think I’ve gotten spam with that exact sentence in it. Some things never change. (And not the abundance of sexy girls desperate for dates.)

And then just when you think it couldn’t get any hotter … you turn the page in eager anticipation, only to find …

Yikes!

That’s all for this Book Report. And yes, I know this isn’t really a book. You want books? Head on over to this post on the always-entertaining Thrift Store Adventures for more books than you can shake a thrifted stick at.

In July we had gone to a woman’s sale (that Jenny and I refer to as the bugdi sale) who had some really great books and I purchased a incredibly pretty (yet awkwardly sized at 12 x 4.8 inches) called Playing Cards, by Buzz Poole and Ira Pearlstein. 300 cards from the 1930s and 1940s are lovingly reproduced in full size and brilliant color. It’s a graphic design wet dream.

The cards were acquired at an auction by Ira Pearlstein, who introduces the book, and this is the biggest reason that I would consider it for a Book Report on our blog. What really resonated with me were Ira’s thoughts on the auction, collecting and junking in general. Ira was warned by his wife “don’t go crazy, Ira. Remember what I said. We don’t need them.”

Here is where Ira really wins me over: “I looked the other way, pretending that I didn’t recognize this woman, the light and joy of my life for the past 23 years, mother of my only begotten sons. I was in the grip of Auction Fever and Sharon was powerless to rein me in.” His total cost for all the cards? $17.50.

Do you remember about a month ago when I ended up with a bunch of junk in my trunk, including a book chock-full of extremely demented and disturbing decorations to make out of tinfoil?

Well! I did not know how much that book got around. Sweetheartville left us a comment that she’d seen the book and was appropriately horrified (particularly by the mermaid). And our pal and occasional guest-star Leslie told me she had a copy, too. Not only that, but she said she owned a painting based on one of the photos. This seemed too good to be true, and I demanded proof. Which I am so thrilled to share with you now.

Here’s the original photo from the book:

And here’s the painting:

The fact that this painting exists is fantastic. Even better is that it was painted by Lamont Mudd, local artist and occasional-dude-about-town. I’m already quite familiar with his work, since we actually have a couple of his paintings in our house, too. (None based on tinfoil crafts, however. You can see one of them here – it’s the third one down.)

Lamont’s paintings are somewhat elusive these days, but rumor has it that they sometimes turn up at Sugartown Vintage. I don’t know if he takes commissions for custom work based on your own favorite horrifying tinfoil art project, but I suppose you could ask!

Okay, now here is a book that is both entertaining, and about entertaining. Ostensibly, anyway. I think it’s really more about freaking people out, because this charming little cookbook pamphlet is chock full of seafood breakfast dishes.

The disgustingness just doesn’t stop with this one, with recipes like “Fluffy Salmon Omelet” and the gag-inducing “Peachy Scallops.” To be fair, a few of the recipes aren’t that bad; some, like pan-fried trout, sound perfectly tasty (although not necessarily for breakfast). “Clam-Corn Griddle Cakes” seem like an okay idea, in a savory-fritter kind of way … until you get to the part where they suggest serving them with cran-applesauce.

I bought this at a thrift store many years ago, but recently decided to send it on to a new home. I gave it to Rakka Deer at her recent retro food party. I apologize in advance to any future attendees if she actually decides to make and serve anything from this booklet.