The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, (2006 to 2010).

Current posts can be found here.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

I’m Not Dead Yet

I apologize for the eerie silence, relieved only by the occasional, keening burst of static this week, but I’m in the process of blowing a deadline, and that really takes more concentration than you might think.  If all goes well — or horribly, horribly wrong — so really, in either case — I should be back shortly.  In the meantime, click below the fold to enjoy the NSFW image of a nude, proofreading flapper.
I’m not sure where this photo came from, but I’m guessing it’s an ad for typewriter ribbons, carbon paper, or low-heeled sensible work shoes…

19 Responses to “I’m Not Dead Yet”

People who want more of this can go to the Virtual Typewriter Museum:
I’m in the process of blowing a deadline
I trust you’re practicing safe sex.
Would blowing a deadline be considered necrophilia?
[ducking shoe]
Hey! actor started it!
He usually does.
Dear Sir,
I am a keen Art Student over the age of Twenty-One. Please send me your selection of Continental Photographic Studies, in the Plain Wrapper.
Good times. For me, there’s a brief sense of relief when I reach that point where I know it’s going to be impossible to make the deadline and I admit it publicly. But then comes the self-loathing and self-abuse and the anxiety of meeting the new deadline, not to mention a freaked out client looking over my shoulder now.
I hope you have a healthier attitude about than I do.
Considering the choice of illustration, I wouldn’t rule out self-abuse.
“Miss Winslow, I believe you misunderstood when the advertisement said ‘Fast typist’ wanted.”
Well, since I can’t think of anything even remotely amusing at the moment, much less jump into the line of coyly pornographic jokes, I’ll be the boring porno historian on this one.
Back during the era of Storyville (the world’s most unique red-light district, NOT the tacky-assed bars/shitty-band venues that have popped-up on Decatur Street over the years), as daguerreotypes and photograph plates were becoming more and more common, these little “ad cards” were shot/displayed to advertise the “goods” offered in whorehouses around the world. This particular young lady might have wanted to draw the customer base who wanted to TALK through sex, or who wanted to feel like they were with an intelligent/skilled/educated woman, or what-have-you. There were pix for every fetish, and they were sold in newsstands, bookstores (under the counter, of course),sometimes after the girls’ youths had passed, sometimes concurrently with their active service.
I know this because, long ago and far away, back when I was still in NOLA, I stumbled upon a database of these “calling cards,” so to speak (I’m probably way off on the terminology, but y’all get the gist), and until Ol’ Bessie (my much-beloved former laptop) bit the dust over a week ago, I still had plenty of those pictures, and would happily have shared, had they been needed.
Now y’all are shit outta luck. And I’d wager that Scott’s fibbing, and that he bought an assload of these calling cards whilst he & Mary visited New Orleans. Any takers?
I’m reminded of the old joke from the 1920s’:
A businessman is telling his new secretary that there are two words he won’t tolerate being used in his office.
“One of them is lousy, the other is swell.”
The secretary replies, “Ok, now tell me the two words you don’t want me to use.”
Well, as you’re not actually dead yet, just dead-lined, we’ll stop worrying.
Thanks for the history lesson, Annti.
“The more you know…”
or low-heeled sensible work shoes…
at least they’re not round heeled work shoes, afawk
You’re very welcome, Bill.
Now get those fucking NBC tones outta my damned head. Use a crowbar if you have to.
But that whole “round-heeled” expression… never have understood it. Aren’t ALL heels (on humans, anyway, and most primates) round? One would think that someone who spent a lot of time on their backs would have FLAT heels, huh?
And D.A., dear, if you’re going to revert to vaudeville, I’m going to get the hook… heh heh heh…
Well, the best way to get one tune outta your head is to chase it out with another one.
Hmmm…how about:
“You take the good, you take the bad
You take ‘em both and there you have
The Facts of Life! The Facts of Life!
There’s a time you gotta grow and so you grow
and then you know about the Facts of Life, The Facts of Life!
When the world never seems
To be living up to your dreams
Then suddenly you’re findin’ out
The Facts of Life are all about you
It takes a lot to get ‘em right
When you’re learnin’ the Facts of Life!”
There. I hope that helped.
No need to thank me-that look of gratitude is all I need.
At least I think it’s gratitude…
If I recognised the keyboard as that of a Smith-Corona folding portable, would that be a bad thing?
The top photograph, I mean.
Not at all. And if you recognised the one it the other photo, it not only wouldn’t be a bad thing, it’d be…impressive. (On the other hand, if you recognised the model, you’d have some ’splainin’ to do.)
Anyone can see straightaway that it’s a Royal 10. You can make out the distinctive glass panel on the side.
I totally did not cheat by looking up the source-code, where the image is titled “royaltypewriternude.jpg”.
Y’know, Bill, I never did get you a birfday present this year…
Keep your eyes peeled for a coupla “white and delightsome”young fellas in short-sleeved “dress” shirts, riding bikes, wearing black bike helmets, with the skinny black ties… They’ll be delivering your prezzie, right to your door!
Probably reeeeeeallllllyyyyyy early on a Saturday morning. I’ve tried to get them to deliver on Sundays, but they get so pissy about that… *sigh*
And maybe you can teach those boys how to cure that inoperable acne that they all seem to have… there are ways that they can deal with it “holistically,” without caffeine or artificial coloring…

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