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These little hard plastic record coasters were all the rage in the 1950’s and 60’s when 45’s and 33-1/3’s were blasting from hifi’s all over the world and Tom Collins, Manhattans and Hi Balls were resting on them as everyone did The Jitterbug and Stroll, topping it off with The Twist.   Some of the coasters were just cheesy versions of records featuring hit drinks:

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Others used them as an advertising tool:

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All of them came in handy little record jackets:

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They were cute and practical as water rings no longer ruined blond wood kidney shaped tables and other groovy Atomic furniture the drinks were set upon.

I had a set of these last night with me in the recording studio so I didn’t leave rings on the mixing console. Although we’re not holding our drinks or displaying our coasters they were there in full force. I wanted my mind in peak enjoyment mode as I got to hear/produce Fantasia recording my song, “I’m Here” from my musical, The Color Purple, LIVE with a 40 piece orchestra.

fantasia,aw,im-here_6984(L-R) Frank Filipetti (engineer), Brenda Russell (my co-writer/ co-producer), Stephen Bray (co-writer/ co-producer), Joseph Joubert (arranger, conductor), Fantasia, Greg Phillinganes (keyboard player extraordinaire) and me (co-writer/ co-producer).

I’ve been collecting these coasters long enough that I could have brought one for everyone but the night was about making music and not decorating so the bulk of my stash stayed safely at home awaiting the next cocktail, Slurpee or Vernors to be placed upon it.

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In the 1950’s, people were very creative about how they packed their liquor to self medicate at ballgames, in cars or just to show off at parties.  This flask, sold in magazine catalogs and naughty peep shops, was one of the most popular ones around for very obvious reasons.

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Made by Master Plastics, BB stands a lofty 7 inches high and contains enough liquor to do the trick several times over. No double entendres intended on the words “high” and “trick”.

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I love the bikini line in the lower 40.  Although it doesn’t continue in the back so maybe she just oinked on a few ounces.

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Nothing like using a clown to sell inebriates to get a kid revved up for adulthood. This 26 foot high sign has been a landmark in North Hollywood, CA., featured in enough movies to get a horse drunk. I’m happy whenever I drive by it but still think mixing an icon of childhood with liquor probably happened because the store owner was drunk when he thought of it.

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While I was taking photographs of this fantastic 1950’s “Don’t Forget” hand statue I forgot what I wanted to say. It was something on the order of that despite the fact that this well manicured translucent plastic hand which is meant to sit on a stack of papers and remind you how important they are has sat on my desk for years, an ever-escalating mountain of notes continually builds under it.

The statue, only 5″tall, is very light so I spend a good portion of my day crawling underneath my desk where it or the papers it’s protecting have fallen each time I try and shove another paper under it. I forget where I bought it as well as why I bought it as it most certainly doesn’t work for the purpose for which it was designed but it’s so great looking I’m not about to to retire it. It’s been of no help whatsoever improving my memory or reminding me of anything but at least I get to look at something cute every time I look over and see what else I’ve forgotten to do on any particular day.

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The National Garden of Kitsch is landscaped with Astroturf. This petite little handbag only has enough room in it for a couple packs of grass seed but I throw my cell phones in it (I’m always losing one so there has to be at least two), two cameras (same reason) and two sets of keys (same again) and I’m ready to experience a sunny and pleasant day regardless of whatever it’s doing outside.

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Pigmy Will and Feathers – created, written, art directed and “acted” by me and Prudence Fenton, animation and special effects director for Pee-Wee’s Playhouse and all around the animated visual genius – have added a new friend to their neighborhood. Whiska,  a pineapple who sees the world through polar opposite eyes than Pigmy or Feathers and who tricycles into town in this introductory episode (if I can be so generous and label something an episode that consists of a few seconds of poorly drawn and animated nonsense).

Pigmy Will is a prince of Kitsch and exemplifies what I love most about the genre, an eternally positive and happy outlook on life, choosing to forge ahead on one’s own individual path despite what anyone else may think about it.

Other Pigmy Will faves:

Pie Day

“The Counter

“The Boat Ride

“SOS#1

Pigmy Will Holdings

La Bamba

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I can’t tell you how many pairs of eyeglasses I’ve lost through the years. Easily in the hundreds as in addition to any prescription ones I may have had – during one insane year when Color Purple opened on Broadway I had 57 pairs with my current prescription –  I also have always collected vintage frames and was always leaving them places, sitting on them or finding them years later in the pocket of a jacket I outgrew either in size or taste.

Before LaLoop, which I’ve worn around my neck for the last seven or eight years and which saved so many pairs I can’t tell you, I used to pick up these vintage eyeglass holder pins whenever I saw them.  Tons of them were in the shape of vintage glasses, owls or little hands.

Other than a few shattered lenses or broken side arms when someone hugged me too tight this particular pin should receive a Lifeguard award for saving so many spectacles’ lives.

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Glasses themselves: LA Eyeworks

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This gargantuan vase honoring prescription drugs was handed out as a promotional item by drug companies in the 1950’s when they really went for great promo swag as opposed to the fat pens, squeeze balls and mortar and pestle post-its that flood doctor’s offices today. In those days, if you had a promo item it was SOMETHING.

A healthy 8″ high and almost obese 18″ around, this vase can hold enough RX to keep you going a lifetime.

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The RX vase was made by Rex (not a stretch) Ceramics of Hollywood, CA., where these vases were most certainly and unabashedly popular.

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To any of you having company over today I’d like to suggest this insane little dip with a sloshed, poorly cut cucumber complete with little olive ring burp bubbles lying in a vat of fruity stuff. I have no idea what this actually tastes like but the arts and crafts aspects of it are spectacular and dips in general tower high on the Kitsch Top 10 of conversation sparking party foods.

Thank you, aKitschionado Nessa, for submitting this gem to the Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch at awmok.com! According to Nessa, “This was on the buffet at a church dinner my mom talked me into going to with her. There were little nuns in full habits spreading this stuff on toast.”  Nuns presenting a dip featuring anything drunk is excellence in Kitsch no matter how you dole it out.

I love food art anyway but there are several outstanding features that make me love Drunken Cucumber Man more than anything:
• Of course, the fact that he’s drunk and is served at a church smorgasbord.
• The fact that the arms aren’t attached to the shoulders and the way the shoulders are attached to the torso is so much larger than the little skinny arms that should be attached to that.
• The fact that the dip is “some sort of fruity stuff”.
• LOVE the bottle but couldn’t they have attached it to his hand?
• LOVE the pimento tongue.
• Skinny Legs and All
• Love the inside of the cucumber as a hat texture.

If the nun who cooked this lived in LA I’d invite her to come to my next pot luck party. In the meantime, I’m pretty sure Drunken Cucumber Man dip will be present one way or the other.

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Everything about this clock is wrong, not the least of which is trying to get away with looking like it comes from McDonald’s when it’s actually from the M. A Collection in China whatever that is. Made of chunky hard rubber yellower-than-mac-‘n-cheese-made-with-3-pounds-of-Velveeta yellow french fries popping out of a red fry bag…

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…with a not quite centered clock in it, I got this as a gift in 1995. I’ve never changed the battery and for 15 years have watched the little yellow hand twitch as it tries to push itself past the 12. Apparently more money was spent on the batteries than making the clock.

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Although it’s completely hollow the french fry clock weighs a ton.  Literally, it weighs over 4 pounds and I can’t figure out why. And there’s this strange bowling pin shape etched into the back…

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…with no apparent purpose other than the designer apparently liked the shape.

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Although one might assume it would pop out so it can be hung, unless you consider hiring a pile driver to pound it out there’s no way that sucker’s leaving the lead-heavy rubber anytime soon.

Despite its shortcomings or maybe because of them I’m strangely and loyally attached to this clock. Many things have come and gone in my kitchen since I owned it but the fries ain’t goin nowhere (mainly because they’re too heavy to lift).

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