Taxidermy from the Four Corners region of Colorado

 This fox was in the window of an antique mall in Pagosa Springs, CO. 

 This bear was in the Lake City, CO Historical Museum, repository of many fine artifacts relating to the Alferd Packer cannibalism case. The bear, which has nothing to do with old Alferd or his dietary idiosyncrasies, stands only about four feet tall. (More on Packer soon!) 

And this baby ostrich stands in what might be described as an antique store or a flea market in Del Norte, CO, operated by a genial old fellow who used to run an ostrich farm. He also once built his own coffin prior to open heart surgery, which he survived. The coffin is standing up in the middle of the store and took him just a few hours to build. If you ever get to Del Norte he's a very good conversationalist and has some odd things for sale. Who doesn't need a stuffed baby ostrich?

Paris Nights

Here's a magazine I found a while back:

Nice to know that nudie mags "did their part" for the National Relief Organization back in the day. It's full of mildly smutty cartoons and stories which I will try to scan later once I figure out how to do it without damaging the spine. Meanwhile, here's an ad from the back cover:

 

"Nude Study" indeed!

Slightly Naughty Stereo View

From 1897:

Oh, Stop! he says, but don't you believe him. This young temptress is determined to make the elderly bald gent yield his honor, and I believe he will!

That's all I got today.

Creepy Creepy Old West Waxwork Figures

 These used to be at the always fascinating Pink Elephant Antique Mall in Livingston, IL, where I have picked up many an interesting bit of Americana.
 
I think they came from a wax museum or Old West theme park that went out of business. They weren't in the best of shape by the time I took these pics.

I think this one's supposed to be Jesse or Frank James. His shirt needs washing, in either case.

 Those gloves are empty! Plus the left arm seems to have become disconnected from the shoulder, adding to the walking-dead vibe.

Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley are somewhat better preserved, at least from a few feet away.

Uh-oh--that buckskin's looking a little frayed. Let's get a better look at Miss Jane-- 

 Good lord! She has the eyebrows of a Yeti! Let's look a bit closer at Bill:

GAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Back away, hellspawn!

 That's better. A little better. Still he looks like a cadaver painted up by a frontier undertaker after a week in the hot sun.

 And this feller was the only one not for sale (see sign.) He's the only one not made of wax, and he has his own wheelchair!

 I suspect this is why he wasn't for sale: Look at his mouth. Peer inside. Yes, that's right--he talks!
I took these pictures a few years ago, and the other figures are gone--probably sold--

--but the Old Timer is still there at the Pink Elephant, greeting customers as they come in through the door. Pay him a visit if you're traveling I-55 through Illinois.

Hipsters and Hammett in Redbook, 1933

I picked this up a few years ago in Wichita, the issue of Redbook featuring the first appearance of "The Thin Man." It's a full-length novel, although I don't know if the text is precisely the same as the finished book.

It's right purty, though, ain't it? Sorry about the bottom of the scan, the mag was just too big for the scanner. And here's the back cover:

 PBR! That's all it took to be a Hipster back in '33, just frameless glasses and a white moustache and a three-piece suit and a meat fork! Look at the posers in the mirror, trying to out-hip this guy! They look so self-conscious and defeated!

Ventriloquism

Did you know that the adjective relating to ventriloquism is "ventriloquial?" Which as a child I mispronounced adorably as "ven-tril-o-quo-yal." I had the notion at one point that I wanted to be a ventriloquist. My parents wouldn't let me have a dummy, though, and no one really wants to see a ventriloquist talking with his empty hand.  So here's a Jerry Mahoney dummy I found:
 
Here's something I bet you didn't know: Paul Winchell, Jerry Mahoney's creator and manipulator and vocal source, also co-invented one of the first artificial hearts with Dr. Henry Heimlich, of Maneuvering fame.

Used Thrift-Store Underwear for the Discerning Woman

Today was supposed to be the day I thrilled you with some vintage erotica from the 1930s. Unfortunately, the lab I used only scanned one-half of the stereoscopic glass slide , thereby robbing you, my loyal readers, of the full 3-D experience! And so while I return to the lab to explain to them the concept of stereoscopic photography, I present a slightly less exotic but still titillating spectacle:

 Yes, somewhere in eastern Kansas is a flea market selling used underwear! And cheap used underwear at that.

 In case the fifty-cent bras don't meet with your standards of excellence, here are some fancier ones hanging on the wall.

 The lady who runs the place is very sweet so I'm not going to name the town here. But boy howdy, ladies, if you're ever traveling through the Sunflower State and you run out of underwear, you could do worse than hitting the thrift stores.

Ulysses Grant smells something fishy

 

The General looks appalled.

Out of the Past

Here are some lovely Detective mags I picked up while on the road. This one's pretty old school, from '72. Lots of keen ads.

And here we have a much later example, when instead of "Damsel in Distress" the generic cover theme had mutated to "Hottie with a Firearm."

I find this woman disturbingly exciting, especially with her gun pointed at the words "human flesh."

But this gal, she's the one! There's something about her out-of-date, slathered-on makeup and eighties hairstyle that really get to me. Also, maybe without realizing it I was part of that "Hottie with a Firearm" target demographic. All these mags had pretty good ads, but the genre was hurting enough by the late 80s that much of the back of the book was filled with classifieds. Stay tuned.

"Happy Birthday, Mr. President, Versions One and Two"

Two images from the Pink Elephant Antique Mall about an hour north of where I live, both of them taken because they remind me of Marilyn Monroe singing "Happy Birthday, Mister President." (Can't post the original copyrighted images, but look them up on Google, the ones taken from behind while she's at the podium.)

 

The above image I shot a week or so ago....

 

And the Furry version comes from a couple of years back. It's an elephant costume, which is of course less evident when seen from behind. 

The Saddest Lunchbox Ever

I've been on the road again, gathering material, so posts have been few of late. Here, as a stopgap, is a picture of the saddest lunchbox I have ever seen. Can you imagine the kid who had to haul this to school during the Carter administration, desperately wishing for a Six Million Dollar Man or A-Team lunchpail and instead getting the Exciting World of Metrics?

Coming soon! More taxidermy (because I know you love the taxidermy) and, as soon as I find a good place to get some vintage glass slides scanned, some really beautiful smutty photos from the 30s.

I'm on the Road!

First I was sick. Then I was taking my daughter to camp and got busy, then last night the motel's wifi was broken. But I have a whole lot to blog now, having traveled all over the great states of Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan and Indiana! I almost made it to Iowa, but that didn't work out and I will not be discussing it. Here, just as a teaser, are a couple of photos taken on Monday morning near Paw Paw, Michigan.

Do you love the musty, moldy ambience of a really cruddy, rundown flea market? The you need to make the trek to Paw Paw, because this place is huge, and every square meter of the place is imbued with a sense of hopelessness and loss.

Do you have dormant allergies that you yearn to awaken? Again, you must hasten to Paw Paw, because allergens unknown to medical science fill the air, swirling and dancing and awaiting the moment when they can once again overstimulate someone's immune system.

Are there LPs by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods or solo work by Donny Osmond that you're always closing in on but can't ever seem to get your hands on?

Paw Paw.
PAW PAW.
PAW PAW!

Thrift Store Pictures!

Look what I found! Some more thrift store/antique mall paintings.

I call this one "Lucille Ball Taking Notes at a Horserace."

And this one is "Springtime Crucifixion in the Alps."

"Good Monk, Bad Monk." Look how happy Good Monk is!

But Bad Monk looks like he's going to beat up a suspect with a phone book! Probably a hand-illuminated one.

I hope you have enjoyed this excursion into the wonderful world of art.

Another Thrift Store Masterpiece

Found this Sunday in an antique mall near St. Louis:

See how she's grasping that pink candle, like she's judging its size? Nuanced! Classy! And those breasts are the definition of perky. I think this might have come from Bob Guccione's yard sale. Here's a better picture of the middle section:

The subtle effect of the candlelight against the dark background evokes Delatour at his height--perhaps even Kincade--while the model with her wistful gaze seems to have wandered in from the saddest, most poignant 16-MM stag film ever made.

Move over, Art Snow--F. Dressen's in town!

Another Thrift Store (or "Antique Mall" for you fancy-pants types out there) painting for your amusement and edification, this one painted by one F. Dressen.



I didn't buy it--$95 seemed a bit steep--but I'm starting to regret it. It's at that perfect juncture between competent (Mr. or Ms. Dressen clearly possessed some technical skills) and crazy, and the sad clown's face is rendered well enough that it feels like an actual portrait of some morose Pierrot.