I said yesterday that advertising that looked like the funny papers was popular in the 30s. I give you another example. But first, give me a moment or two while I get out a cast iron frying pan and beat some sense into this guy with the pipe. Seriously! He's telling her he doesn't like seeing his little woman work so hard but he says it while standing there in a suit smoking a pipe. Yeah, I'd have him seeing those little animated birdies flying around his head. But then hey, I'm the sort of person that doesn't iron. It is what it is. If something has some wrinkles I figure "okie dokie" because it was going to look wrinkled 5 seconds after I put it on anyway. I iron maybe twice a year. I barely even remember where I keep my iron. I have memories of my mother ironing and I think that's what cured me. It was so unpleasant. And I remember the damp laundry in a bag in the fridge which would then get put through one of those roller press dryers. My mother was especially unpleasant when doing linen table cloths. I vowed ironing would not be a friend to me. I've kept my vow.
Do click on the image to see it larger. It's a yuk fest!
Somewhere in this house I actually have an old empty Rinso box. I found it at the cabin when it was being cleaned out after being sold. The box dates back to at least the early 1960s, possibly the late 50s. I have no idea where I put it. Someday it'll show up and I'll ooohhh and aaahhh over it for a few moments then put it away and forget about it. I like when I stumble upon my own garbage and it surprises me.
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