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Swell People |
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Nice paneling.
Poor dumb bastard can’t even spell “Tuscaloosa.” Clearly the master
race. |
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You got a purty mouth. |
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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. |
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Missionary card
from the ‘70s. The Blazers’ blazers…how do you say “child abuse” in
Portuguese? |
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Leave the friggin
eel alone, whydoncha. |
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| Emphasis on “wild.”
Good God, man, the brute could leap at your throat at any moment!! |
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| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| Science! Hey, is that
Jim Jones brewing up a batch of Kool-Aid? |
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From “Theater of
the Sea, Florida Keys.” Please tell me they don’t do this anymore. |
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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. |
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| Wise to wear gloves
while handling that thing. |
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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. |
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