R.I.P. Paul Newman

Rest assured that pumpkins will be carved in your honor every year.
Circles for eyes. Circles for eyes.


Friday Links.

This week in distractions.
Lots of great paper ephemera
Cruiser ads of the past

Behind the scenes at The Price is Right 1982
Mapmaking is England 1953
Journeys in time and space

Animation backgrounds, the art behind the art.
Dr. Strangelove beautifully recreated with everyday objects.
Embroidered text messages
The wonder, mystery, and loneliness of the monowheel


Young Harrelson Learns To Boner

China's Cell Phone In My Butt Team

Jonestown, China-- Three Asian guys woke up this morning with vigor and zeal. They laid some Yen on the table and entered into a legally binding contract. Each man stood on his own. And bet the other that his rectum could hold the most mid-90's cellular phones.


Androgynous Salespersons Unite

Hi Friends,
I found a barrel. ‘Twas Covered in barnacles. You know, clams and such. If I crush them barnacles I get a smell. If I rub that smell I get youth. If I drink that smell I get drunk on the time space continuum. And I'm drinking tons of it. Pick me up yesterday at tomorrow o'clock.

Delner Tor Champson


scuttlebut at the o

Welcome, good to see you again. Have a seat, won’t you? Yes, that one there is fine.

What’s that? Lindsay Evans? Why yes, I have met her before. Delightful young woman, isn’t she? She fancies herself quite the gamer, you know…

No – not those kinds of games. Those are quite unsafe, I believe. No…I’ve heard something more like trivia, Scrabble, crossword puzzles – you know, the classics.

Hmm? Yes, you’re absolutely right! Hit the proverbial nail on the head, you have! She was a lucky find for the Proposal team. Quite an asset. Years of big agency writing for radio, TV, print…a freelance magazine and newspaper writer…quite diverse.


Yes. She’s written for all of those outlets.

Well now that you mention it, she actually has written a screenplay…the Olympics, I believe, though I’m not 100% on that. Something about a woman’s struggle to bake her way into the 2012 summer games…

No, I don’t think that would be a good idea - she’s married. Newlywed, in fact. Yes, I’m quite sure…perhaps a note of congratulations-slash-apology?

Ah, yes. Good point. Well now – would you care for a muffin? Or a scone perhaps? There’s a lovely tray of baked goods here.

That’s right, forgive me. And you know, that reminds me: Evans has family with celiac disease and nut allergies. It’s true. Forgive my use of the word, but there could be some synergy there.

What? Where are you going? Please sit back down…you have my word: I won’t pepper the conversation with any further “synergies.”

No, I don’t think it affects her. But you’re right - we should cancel the new hire walnut-and-gluten factory tour.

You must be going? I understand completely. Travis Dickens is not the type of man you keep waiting…stop by later, won’t you?

Yes, of course you will.

Ah yes, I almost forgot! Ice cream, cookies, cake, pie…


A fantastic collection

FLICKR SETS (get ready for a wasted day.)
Typewriter Ribbon Tins. Beautiful!
A fantastic collection of beauty.
Mad Men Illustrated.
An orgy of color and pattern. Zanis Waldheims.

First read this. Then hum along while you check out these number crunchers.
The Flags of Tokyo. Long may they wave.
Who doesn't like a good gig poster?
Suspicious vans?
Pelican book covers 1930s - 1980s. The Pelican Project.

Photographing John McCain. An interesting photo shoot for The Atlantic.
Where all the Dicks live. This place sure has a lot of dicks.
How long could you survive chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor? Take the quiz.

1950s Italian Police Motorcycle Drill Team - a model of synchronization. Video.
Tips for surviving the new depression. Video.
You know him you love him. Everyones favorite man-beast. Bigfoot..

Zingers from hollywood squares. Audio.


Early morning drinker

I sat watching a man in the airport terminal. Like myself, I assumed he was waiting for a flight. I noticed a small bottle of jack daniels in his hand, the cap removed, half the whiskey consumed. Although he had a newspaper in his lap, it was unopened. He stared into space, deep in thought. Slowly he turned the small cap around in his fingers. I found myself wondering what would drive a man to drink at the airport at 6:30 in the morning. What made me wonder further was the look on his face. The helpless blank stare that told me his mind was already hard at work. Maybe something had happened. Maybe something was about to happen. Maybe, just maybe, this man hated to fly and found a bit of comfort in that small bottle. Then a pinch, "stop staring," my travel companion said to me.  Later, after sitting down on the plane, I continued to think about that lonely man in the airport and his whiskey. I realized that I wasn't all that concerned with what was going on with him after all, I just wanted some whiskey.


Friday Links.

Test your color IQ. Or see what sort of sorter you are. here.
The beauty of a Soviet book cover.
Exhibit A in the case for convenience leading to the downfall of our society. I guess you don't want to talk to me anymore.
Beautiful illustrations of Radios, among other things.
Courthouse Confessions.


shut the fuck up donny!

Captain Embarrassment's cape is yellow like sun
a beer in his hand he gets his best work done
the ladies find him unsettling, fellas question his worth
a result of his apathy and its massive girth

but fret not friends he's here to save the day
by fucking it up in some major way
with a stain on his T and a joint on his knee
The Dude incarnate; shut the fuck up donny!

The Mark of Fashion

1970 Sears The Men's Store.
To see a full Flickr set click here.


Fine mind for foresight, or just out of coffee filters? (It's such a fine line)

It was a good 45 minutes from the time I woke up and heard the particle accelerator test went smoothly, until I finally left my house and saw another human. The whole time all I could think about was that it didn't go smoothly and my blackhole-proof pajamas worked and now I was the only one left. I was going to make the Sears Tower my residence, a la the main character in Vonnegut's Slapstick.
Anyway, I am kinda bummed because I thought if we were to go down in a blackhole I was pretty proud of the fact that I was on my last coffee filter today. I thought that was some pretty accurate estimating of ones need of coffee filters. Now instead of bragging it up on the underside of a blackhole, I am just out of coffee filters. So it goes.


Summer Vacation where you done gone?

So here I am, back at PF headquarters... I can see no one dusted while I was gone... and someone ate my pickle stash. No matter. I am back and ready to welcome fall in all her deciduous glory. Nothing will deter me from my mind. And today my mind happens to have it in itself to tell you of my summer vacation.

Since you have last heard from my I have sunned myself on a beach towel that looks like the Puerto Rican flag, came unwillingly within inches of 2 coyotes, jokesters, switched to sheep cheese, been told with a straight face that it has a "barnyardy" taste, fought with elevation and came to a draw, smiled a lot, driven a minivan, had my identity stolen, luckily I don't really know who I am anyway, so they didn't get far, made a conscious effort to use apostrophes in my contractions, bought a paper shredder, overestimated the power of that shredder, need a new shredder, seen some really good music, not played enough really good music, saw the planets align, fished so much that my wrists hurt like hell, had some really good dreams, thought about giving a speech so much that I could probably give a wicked good speech about thinking about giving speeches, laughed at repetitive jokes, laughed at repetitive jokes, fell in love with the north woods, written songs in my head about stuff I don't know about, cared about politics like I never really thought I might, sent an egg in the mail (safely), made lists like it was my job, seldom crossed things off those lists, note: look into list-making job, played multiple games of badminton on the Fourth of July, that same day played croquet with a chip on my shoulder, left my Don Rickles Hello Dummy! record at Dan's house, tried to do my best, had raffle fever, golfed, bought some new seersucker, heard tell of a friend using the, "baby please, I am not from Havana!" line in context, and fell asleep during a PBS documentary on Alexander Hamilton.

The whole time a little part of me was looking forward to getting back to the PF grind. Dusting off my old milk crate, sitting down at my TV tray desk, and blogging like a bloggin' bloggy-blogger. It seems that day has come... so here is to sweatshirt weather, pumpkin patches, playoff baseball, and wood burning stoves. It is good to see you again, do you think I can borrow 40 bucks, just 'til payday?

Oh, I am between jobs right now... you know just taking it easy and thinking things through... but you know I am good for it right? You don't care if I drank some of your beers, right?

in lieu of pay, check out some pictures of Signs and Doorways.

Why do I always get a warped one?