George Carlin, and later Cheech y Chong, were arguably the first hippie comedians, although an argument could be made that all hippies were comedians. At least these guys were intentionally funny.
But Wavy Gravy owns the title of being the First Hippie Clown. He even played Woodstock, and he’s still alive.
Proof can be found on the Wavy Gravy Homepage.
There’s an excellent ongoing compilation of photos of early Americana from Shorpy. Many photos, like this one, have descriptions of who, what, when and where. Be sure to read the story of “Shorpy.”
“Waco, Texas. November 1913. Isaac Boyett: ‘I’m de whole show.’ The twelve-year-old proprietor, manager and messenger of the Club Messenger Service, 402 Austin Street. The photo shows him in the heart of the Red Light district where he was delivering messages as he does several times a day. Said he knows the houses and some of the inmates. Has been doing this for one year, working until 9:30 P.M. Saturdays. Not so late on other nights. Makes from six to ten dollars a week.”
According to this calculator, $6 to $10 a week in 1913 equates to $124.55 to $207.58 per week in 2007 dollars. Most of Isaac’s earnings prolly went for food for his family.
This feline is possessed… with Heterochromia. Two different colored eyes, the sign of a Bruja. Don’t mess with it.
In my case, though, soy un Brujo. Dangerous to mess with Bunk, also.
Hadda spooler crash yesterday, prolly due to the heat, and we’re in the process of doctoring it. Meanwhile, here’s something to look at.
No, I don’t have her phone number. But ya gotta admit that she looks good in sepia. With muddy bunny ears. And beads. And, wait, there’s something about her teeth…
Bunk’s Rules of the Road:
1. Always flush with your feet.
2. Anything named “Jerry’s Diner” is an excellent place for cheap, good food.
My all-time favorite (deceased).
THIS Jerry’s Diner in Kent, Ohio, fed me well and cheaply throughout my college years. Seemed to be always open, and was conveniently located for easy stumbling access after the Water Street watering holes closed. There was usually a line out the door by 11pm, and it was longer later. (It was usually snowing, too.)
Wednesday was Fish Fry Night, all you can eat for $2.50, with home fries. Yeah, it was just Mrs. Paul’s with potatoes. We’d pass on supper on Tuesday just to take advantage of the deal, until one Wednesday too many we cleaned them out of frozen battered fish… that’s when they changed the rules.
After that, each of us had a limit of ten battered fish fillets. Period. Half of what we normally ate. Life’s just not fair sometimes.
I think that Hairy Mary had something to do with it. She was the waitress, and when she was in a bad mood, your order was launched down the counter at you and you had to catch it. Her bad mood seemed to coincide with whenever we stepped inside.
[UPDATE 19 NOVEMBER 2008: JERRY’S DINER HAS BEEN PURCHASED. THE NEW OWNER IS MOVING IT TO CLEVELAND FOR REFURBISHING AND POSSIBLE RELOCATION TO KENT. NEWS AS IT HAPPENS.]
[UPDATE 5 OCTOBER 2008: JERRY’S DINER, KENT, OHIO, IS SLATED FOR DEMOLITION THIS MONTH. STORY AFTER THE BREAK.]
[UPDATE 15 FEB 2009: Cleveland Plain Dealer article after the break.]
Here are some other “Jerry’s Diners” that showed up on a google search.
No photoshop here. These pups actually have stereo nozzles.
There is a rare breed of dog named the Double-Nosed Andean Tiger Hound, found in Bolivia, and no, I’m not making this up.
Someone named “Explorer Colonel John Blashford-Snell” found them, and I’m not making that up either.
Here’s mama:
Here’s sonny.
Apparently the Double-Nosed Andean Tiger Hound smells twice as good as most dogs and is capable of 3-dimensional scent detection.
But don’t take one for a ride. The dog gets confused and frustrated trying to put its head out of both car windows at the same time.
Okay, I made that last part up.
It’s so hot I saw a dog chasing a cat chasing a mouse, and they all were walking.
It’s so hot I saw two trees fighting over a dog.
It’s so hot that even Al Gore can’t explain it.
It’s so hot that the people who live in Thermal California are laughing at you.
Okay. It’s Hot. Get over it. Like these Cat Wannabes.
Meanwhile, here’s the Real Deal.
They’re not whining… just waiting.
Photos via: Growabrain and Animals.
I hope that I shall never see
A raygun as in Figure 3;
For if I do I must decide,
To laugh at him, or run and hide.
I wouldn’t want this to be aimed in my direction. I don’t want my atoms dispersed and rearranged as little stinky catfood pellets, but Mr. Shaible scoffed at all the naysayers and went ahead to patent this evil Weapon of Mass Destruction in 1953.
More fascinating patents are archived in the Patent Room.
Perry Bible Fellowship is one of the cleverest single panel comic strips I’ve seen in a long time, online or off. For those of you with kids, there are a few of them that push the PG-13 boundary. It’s a “why didn’t I think of that?” kind of a strip… Mad Magazine meets National Lampoon as edited by Steven Wright.
From now on, everything you sit on feels like Mr. T.
Ugh.
More cool and very excellent Mr. T stuff can be found on SNTC.
Tacky Raccoons 
