Swell People

Nice paneling. Poor dumb bastard can’t even spell “Tuscaloosa.” Clearly the master race.

You got a purty mouth.

Eatery in Bardstown, KY. Yeah, I really want to dine there, knowing that Mr. Jones is no doubt satisfying his lust in the kitchen on a regular basis.

Missionary card from the ‘70s. The Blazers’ blazers…how do you say “child abuse” in Portuguese?

Leave the friggin eel alone, whydoncha.
Emphasis on “wild.”  Good God, man, the brute could leap at your throat at any moment!!
He’s gonna do it, too. Didn’t even know the photo was being taken. Was his mother-in-law pleased?  We will never know.
Dude, he’s not hungry…he’s just slackjawed at your shirt. As well as that of your companion (not that there’s anything wrong with it). And eeeeek! Shocked by the sartorial abomination, the fellow in the background is about to hurl a helpless infant to the sharks.
Science! Hey, is that Jim Jones brewing up a batch of Kool-Aid?

From “Theater of the Sea, Florida Keys.” Please tell me they don’t do this anymore.

From Iola’s Studio of Music and Kinder-Kollege, Milwaukie, OR. You can never have too many accordions…and a faux Crazy Guggenheim doesn’t hurt, either. How did these kids rate a postcard? Someone’s dad must have ponied up the moolah.

Wise to wear gloves while handling that thing.

Does he think he can render her helpless with his frenetic drumming? Not if her protective maracas can put up a force shield. Hey, uh, guys? You got so caught up in your dance that you are in the water. Soooo not good for conga drums.