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I’m not much of a golf buff but I love kitschy golf accessories, especially those designed around my favorite hole, the 19th.  Although I’m sure that the golf ball dome lid gets screwed off of this 10″ high plastic refreshment vessel long before the green is spotted on the long-awaited hole. Which is good because the glamorous leatherette cover is so cheap and bunchy on the bottom it tips to the left like the leaning Tower of Pisa so the contents would be watering the green instead of your gullet by the time you reach 19.  Happy Masters!

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I’m assuming this happy fellow is a pear although I’m not the world’s biggest fruit and vegetable eater and he does look wayyyy too green. But he’s too shapely to be a green pepper, too smooth to be an avocado and too leafy to be a lime so I’m sticking with pear and hope that any of them that happen to slide down my gullet are a little riper at point of entry.

I love anthropomorphic anything but especially vintage chalkware fruit as they’re always so happy. I especially love this guy because he’s so obviously homemade – lumpy, sloppily painted and bad teeth.

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I have three of these insanely beautiful vintage portholes off of a 1952 Chris-Craft boat. I found them in three separate eBay auctions a few years apart.

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I love all portholes but especially these with the chrome fins across the glass.

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My studio is a classic Streamline Moderne boat looking structure built as the MGM party house in 1937 and although there were no portholes when I moved in it was screaming, no BEGGING, for me to pop a few in.

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As much as I love these they’re not my favorite porthole around here. That honor is reserved for my $11 used-to-be-a-flimsy-brass-mirror porthole that I sunk into the floor and now serves as my laundry chute.

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My laundry chute porthole was featured in the Los Angeles Times twice last year alone. When I get completely frustrated writing, painting, making films, curating AWMoK.com and everything else I fill my time with I always think I could go into the business of selling porthole laundry chutes.

Studio photo: Maryanne Bilham

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I could sprinkle grated cheese on ice cream I love the foodstuff so much. Especially when it’s shaken out of this happy little chef.

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Made in the 1950’s, the height of bringing fun into the kitchen, or in this case, kitschen, via fancifully designed accessories, this chef has done at least 30 years of shaking over here.

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Passover means Seder, Seder means matzoh and matzoh means crumbs. But fear not, the Matzah Sweeper is here, a convenient crumb caddy made from plastic that could not have cost the manufacturer much gelt because it’s so clunky to use.  After having decimated at least half a box of matzoh trying to get my favorite unleavened bread topping, peanut butter and jelly, spread evenly across it there were enough crumbs to make it look like my kitchen table was covered with snow.  But despite the fact that it says “press here”…

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after five minutes of trying to pry it open pressing everywhere imaginable I gave up trying to crack the Matzah Sweeper open to dump the crumbs. I finally used it, full of crumbs,  as a  percussion shaker on a song I was working on yesterday. The trade-off worked out nicely.

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One of my favorite things from a Kitsch perspective about matzoh is that there’s no clear correct spelling of the name. Sometimes it’s matzo, sometimes it’s matzoh and for the Rite Lite company of Brooklyn, New York it’s apparently ‘matzah’.

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And now, an extra Passover bonus! Please enjoy The Temptations circa 1968 singing a Fiddler on the Roof medley. The visual quality of this clip is beyond chaluscious (sp? Yiddish for ‘atrocious’) but to hear this score sung this way will add a little pinch o’ soul to the matzo brei and gefilte fish and ensure you stay in the groove this Passover season.

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I first got into throwing parties, my favorite thing to do among everything I do, by inviting friends over on Sunday afternoons to watch Bad movies. I was long aware that environment totally influences anything that happens inside of it and the bad films allowed me to ratchet up my collection of Kitsch to enhance viewer experience. Grabbing candy out of a plain white bowl was just that, grabbing candy out of a plain white bowl, but sticking your hand into something like these incredibly cheap sawed-in-half plastic beer bottles acted like Mind Control pulling my guests further into the inane madness of classics like  “Monster from the Surf”, “The Lonely Lady”, “Attack of the Mushroom People”, “Black Shampoo”, “Plan Nine from Outer Space”, “Puma Man” and other Academy-Award-worthy nominees for Worst Film Ever in my never-ending collection of cinematic clunkers.

There are several things that set these ‘novelty nut dishes’ apart as outstanding artifacts of Kitsch. 1) They’re so incredibly cheaply made that they crack as soon as you breathe on them:

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2) They’re apparently called “Beer Friend”…

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… though the name “Beer Friend” appears nowhere on the box:

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3) The realllllly cheap, mushy, squishy cardboard box with its 4) tag line, “Perfect for candy, too”, with a misplaced comma not to mention the aforementioned 2) absolutely no mention of “Beer Friend” despite it being embossed in big letters on the back of the “bottles”.

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If you’re not doing anything  when you read this grab some nuts and a cold beer (neither of which are particular favorites of mine) and watch one of the above mentioned movies. Your day will improve immensely.

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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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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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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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