A collection by Neal McKenna

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Welcome to the retro future.

In 1957, the state of Oklahoma was 50 years old and a huge celebration was held to commemorate this momentous event. Highlighting the City of Tulsa’s bash was the interring of a time capsule which, among other things, contained a shiny new 1957 Plymouth Belvedere hardtop. The Plymouth was chosen for its advanced styling and the organizers were certain it would not look out of date in 2007.

So the deal was this. People in 1957 would guess Tulsa’s population in 2007 and the person with closest guess – well, actually a descendant – would get the car. Along with the tail-finned, chromed-laden coupe, a number of odds and ends were also buried – microfilm containing all the population contest entries, the contents of a woman's purse, a bottle of Valium, a case of beer, an unpaid parking ticket and a flag. But there was one other item that marvelously hints at the optimistic sensibility of that time. The people of 1957 buried 10 gallons of leaded gasoline, on the off chance that in 2007, gasoline stations would be unknown to people zipping around in hover cars fueled by iPod-sized nuclear fusion reactors.

Alas, the ‘57 Belvedere came to a sad end. In 2007, event officials had to pump several feet of water from the crypt which held the car for a half-century. But the car, wrapped in three layers of mud-caked protective material was a rusted wreck. Still the prize was awarded to Donald Humbertson of Woodbridge, Va., nephew of Raymond Humbertso who guessed Tulsa’s 2007 population would be 384,743, only slightly off the official U.S. Census count of 382,457.

Currently, the Belvedere resides in a museum in its exhumed condition. Pristine copies of this car, not “preserved” in a time capsule, are valued at upwards of $50,000. Today, the Tulsa Plymouth, unfortunately, has only historical value representing an optimistic era long past.
And update on the Miss Belvedere Plymouth is here.

Magic Highway

Shopping in the year 2000 (1950)

Frigidaire Kitchen of the Future (1957)

2005 Speed Trap (1955)

Gyroscopic Rocket Car (1945)

Future Spaceport (1957)

Future Vacation Home (1957)

Real Groaners

1. The fattest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.

2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.

3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.

4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class, because it was a weapon of math disruption.

5. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.

6. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.

7. A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.

8. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

9. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.

10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

11. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

12. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other: 'You stay here; I'll go on a head.'

13. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

14. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: 'Keep off the Grass.'

15. The midget fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.

16. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

17. A backward poet writes inverse.

18. In a democracy it's your vote that counts. In feudalism it's your count that votes.

19. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.

20. If you jumped off the bridge in Paris, you'd be in Seine.

21. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, 'I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger.'

22. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says 'Dam!'

23. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

24. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, 'I've lost my electron.' The other says 'Are you sure?' The first replies, 'Yes, I'm positive.'

25. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: transcend dental medication.

It has all been said.

Why aren't there any rural legends?

Saskatoon!

They call it the Paris of the prairies

Give the kids a hug and a big smooch to Randy from me. ...and my daughter calls it home. Love you Sweetie!

Dating in 1961

It's the summer of 1961 and Harold goes to pick up his date, Mary Sue. Harold's a pretty hip guy with his own car. When he goes to the front door, Mary Sue's mother answers and invites him in.

"Mary Sue's not ready yet, so why don't you have a seat?" she says.

"That's cool," he says.

Mary Sue's mother asks Harold what their planning to do.

Harold replies politely that they will probably just go to the A&W or to a movie.

Mary Sue's mother responds, "Why don't you kids go out and screw? I hear all the kids are doing it."

Naturally this comes as quite a surprise to Harold and he says "Wha...aaat?"

Yeah, says Mary Sue's mother, "We know Mary Sue really likes to screw. Why, she'd screw all night if we'd let her!"

Harold's eyes light up and he smiles from ear to ear. Immediately, he has revised the plans for the evening.

A few minutes later, Mary Sue comes downstairs in her halter top and a flared skirt. She announces she's ready to go.

Almost breathless with anticipation, Harold escorts his date out the front door while Mom is saying, "Have a good evening kids," with a small wink for Harold.

About 20 minutes later, a thoroughly disheveled Mary Sue rushes back into the house, slams the door behind her and screams at her mother: "Dammit, Mom!!! The Twist!!! The Twist!!! The damn dance is called The Twist!!!"

Starrbooty – a flash needing to be panned!

- Neal McKenna © (October 3, 2008)

Johannesburg, South Africa

Okay, okay! I get it! I get it!! RuPaul's 2007 film, “Starrbooty” is a send-up on all those really bad '60s and '70s American sexploitation and blaxploitation flicks. As the diva repeatedly explained to the audience at The Zone, in Johannesburg: “This film pays homage (say: oh-mah-juh) to directors like Russ Meyer and John Waters.” And, to be sure, this latest iteration of the Starbooty franchise, like its predecessors, makes full use of grainy footage, obvious vocal overdubbing and dramatic visual cuts to mimic those old-time, low-budget films.

However, early into the first reel, about half the audience took offense to the very explicit – now infamous – “Russian scene” and tromped out en mass. In the end, those who walked didn't really miss all that much. For those who stayed on, two hours of their lives were frittered away – time they will never get back. The film lacked cleverness, wit and style, both in script and production. – And lest we forget, the next-to-zero budget really showed! Humour was of the toilet variety and even at that, it was hit and miss. The October 3^rd screening of Starrbooty was sponsored by Jo'burg Pride as a fundraiser and was quite sparsely attended. So, any way you look at it, the evening was pretty much a bomb – a dud bomb.

As for RuPaul Charles, he/she was having a hissy fit as I entered the vacant auditorium where each member of the invited press was allocated five – count 'em – five minutes to speak with her Ladyship. “...No, no, no!” Her tone was adamant. “I won't do it! It's my job to look my best and I'm not doing any camera interviews without proper light!” An E-TV camera man is giving her grief. He says: “Let me do my job, lady,” perhaps not knowing RuPaul is actually a man. Certainly, he is taking no notice of the fact he is in the presence of a genuine-down-to-the-sequins “international super-star.” “...No. Let me do mine,” Ru-the-Paul rails back at him, perfectly shaped nostrils flaring.

“I just want to do my job,” the cameraman repeats.

“No, you are not doing your job if I'm not happy.” She/he laughs haughtily. “Don't you get it? Get it? Don't you act like a diva, mister! I'm the diva! I'm the diva! Jeezus-H-Christ! What's a girl gotta do to get her way around here?” From my front-row seat, I am truly enjoying this show.

The so-called press conference, like the movie in the theatre next door, doesn't seem to be going very well. It is poorly organised and nobody, least of all me, knows what is supposed to be happening. But I wait and I watch but most of all, I capture every word with my handy-dandy microchip recorder! The cameraman glowers into his viewfinder, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

The E-TV stand-in reporter begins with: "What inspired you to make Starbooty?" RuPaul, practiced and slick, replies with: “Starrbooty was made in response to the overly-politically correct climate in the United States...” At this point, I have already decided, I don't give a hoot about the questions I had earlier planned to ask. Who cared about her lame reality TV show, RuPaul's Drag Race? My research had already told me it was a drag knock-off of America's Next Top Model. I now had a much better story on the brew.

...But let me step back for a moment to explain something. You see, I was a reporter in the old, old newspaper daze. Therefore, when I see a gap, I strike. For a moment, at this free-for-all “press conference,” everybody else seemed to be standing around, waiting for another boom to drop. I make my move. “RuPaul?” I use my best “professional” voice. – At 48 and up-close, the old gal didn't look half bad. Although, one has to speculate that a little nipping and tucking has likely happened over the years between 1960 and the present. – She/he replies “Yes?” Her tone has that chilly “head school-mistress” ring to it. “Hello,” I continue undeterred. “I'm Neal McKenna from Gay Pages magazine and...” Out of nowhere, like a bird of prey, someone named Natasha, swoops over to us and says: “There's an order here!” She glares at me. “You'll have to wait your turn!”

“Oh, sorry,” I apologise. “I didn't know. Nobody told me...” I again take my place in the front row and watch.

RuPaul continues to look sour in her over-the-top frizzy-blonde, Diana Ross Afro wig. So much for her obviously-cultivated, friendly and approachable, “love-one-another” demeanour! Lights go up, SABC 3 cameras start rolling and the wicked bitch of the west – remember, she's a California girl – transforms into Glinda, good witch of the American east coast. Sweetness and light prevail.

Before I know it, SABC is done and it's my turn to bask in the presence of greatness. This time, our diva is trés genteel. I prattle on about being a fan – after all, more than RuPaul can play the insincere game – and I play it well. I ask my dumb questions, knowing I'll never use her answers. I ask her how long she will be staying in SA and suggest she visit the Cradle of Humankind. She almost seems interested. And, in my mind's eye, I can see her down in the narrow depths of the Sterkfontein Caves, in the dirt, on her hands and knees, wearing gold lamé spandex and those spike heels! The image still warms my heart.

Then, it was all over and time to rejoin my partner, who was unhappily parked in the theatre, struggling though the screening of Starrbooty. Like troopers, we stayed on through to the end of the movie, but a passing parade of fleeing viewers had made wiser decisions. In all, the Starrbooty's South African premiere was an entertaining evening out – but not for any of the expected reasons.

Think about it...

Obviously a tad too much sacramental wine after vespers...

But, I always thought those surfing scenes were real...

'Nuff said.

This one actually looks worthwhile!

Now, here's a class act!

Just plain scary! Maybe she should try the nipple tassels.

Birds without wires...

God Save the Queen!

Handy Hint #1 - Mid-20th Century housewives: Are you forever mislaying your kitchen in a Valium-induced haze? Try marking it with a large asterisk.
Reblogged from Tack-O-Rama

V8 and crack. Reblogged from Tack-O-Rama

In the retro future, telecommunications and air travel will be synonymous.

Reblogged from Tack-O-Rama

Cigarette envy. Reblogged from Tack-O-Rama

Sopranos Last Supper

Why do you think they call it dope, you Dope?

The babysitter’s dead.

Sarcastic Doll is sick of your crap.

Malcolm would like a word with you.

It does happen... and more often than you'd think.

I rest my case.

I have been soooo there!

We've all met this guy...

I’ve had worse.

What more can I say?

A new prize at Timmy's

Alerts to Threats in 2011 Europe

- by John Cleese

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Libya and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada. The Scots have raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to"Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations"and "Change Sides."
The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "Crikey! I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is canceled."

So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.

- John Cleese - British writer, actor and tall person via What Culture

About the future...Arthur C. Clarke said:

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable

from magic." Apparently that seems to be coming true.

"Claytronics" is an emerging field of engineering concerning reconfigurable nanoscale robots ('claytronic atoms', or catoms) designed to form much larger scale machines or mechanisms. Also known as "programmable matter", the catoms will be sub-millimeter computers that will eventually have the ability to move around, communicate with other sub-millimeter computers, change color, and electrostatically connect to other catoms to form different shapes. The forms made up of catoms could morph into nearly any object, even replicas of human beings for virtual meetings. Have a look at this link.

Even More About the future... Here!

These are truly mean

and that's why they're here!

But hey, Saskatchewan, I still love ya!

The owner of a golf course in Saskatchewan was confused about paying an invoice, so he decided to ask his secretary (I think May was her name) for some mathematical help.

He called her into his office and said, "You graduated from the University of Saskatchewan and I need some help. If I were to give you $20,000, minus 14%, how much would you take off?"

The secretary thought a moment, then replied, "Everything but my earrings."

A group of Saskatchewan friends went deer hunting and paired off in twos for the day. That night, one of the hunters returned alone, staggering under theweight of an eight-point buck. 'Where's Henry?' the others asked.

'Henry had a stroke of some kind. He's a couple of miles back up the trail,' thesuccessful hunter replied.

'You left Henry laying out there and carried the deer back?' they inquired.

'A tough call,' nodded the hunter. 'But I figured no one is going to steal Henry!'

A senior in Saskatchewan was overheard saying . 'When the end of the world, comes, I hope to be in Saskatchewan ..'

When asked why, he replied he'd rather be in Saskatchewan because everything happens in Saskatchewan 20 years later than in the rest of the civilized world.

The young man from Saskatchewan came running into the store and said to his buddy, 'Bubba, somebody just stole your pickup truck from the parking lot!' Bubba replied, 'Did you see who it was? 'The young man answered, 'I couldn't tell, but I got the license number!'

NEWS FLASH! - Saskatchewan 's worst air disaster occurred when a small two-seater Cessna 150 aircraft, piloted by two University of Saskatchewan students, crashed into a cemetery earlier today. Search and Rescue workers have recovered 300 bodies so far and expect the number to climb as digging continues into the evening. The pilot and copilot survived and are helping in the recovery efforts.

The Saskatchewan RCMP pulled over a pickup on Highway 16.
The RCMP officer asked, 'Got any ID?'
The driver replied, 'Bout whut?

A man in Saskatchewan had a flat tire, pulled off on the side of
the road, and proceeded to put a bouquet of flowers in front of the car and one behind it. Then he got back in the car to wait.

A passerby studied the scene as he drove by and was so curious he turned around and went back. He asked the fellow what the problem was.

The man replied, 'I have a flat tire.'

The passerby asked, 'But what's with the flowers?'
The man responded, 'When you break down they tell you to put flares in the front and flares in the back! I never did understand it either.'

_

Me, Me! It's all About Me!!!

1947 was a good year. Post WW II prosperity was on the rise and I came screaming into the world. Okay, okay, so it wasn't such a great year but there's no need to call it common! FYI - $5,000,000 in 1947 had the same buying power as $50,220,697.67 has in 2011.

My Home Town: Kirkland Lake, Ontario Canada.

Now, when I was a kid, I thought this was a really big place. After all, we had three - count 'em - three movie theatres: The Strand, The Uptown and the LaSalle. The Uptown closed ages ago and became a warehouse. The LaSalle degenerated into "the Louse." And the Strand with its ersatz Venus de Milo statue was the high-class venue. Today, only the Louse, at the wrong end of town is still open for business.
Much of my life was a blur moving from one town to the next. Either my family was a pack of Gypsies or we were in the Witness Protection Program. After jumping ship (so to speak) in Montana, I set off to seek fame and fortune in sunny California. Both eluded me but being a naive 18-year-old, how was I to know?
By 1970, I was back in Canada and back in - you guessed it - Kirkland Lake. There, I enrolled in the Business Administration program at Northern College. Again I discovered something I wasn't good at. I hated BusAd and before I became a "Christmas Grad," I switch into the Marketing course. This was a much better fit and ushered me into the wild and wacky world of print media advertising. This was also where I learned I could make a living with my writing.
Then came two marriages. The first - a total mistake - had one truly great outcome - a beautiful daughter. The second marriage was less of a gaffe and actually was a lot of fun until the the day the party ended. Over the next 11 years I found myself - usually with another guy.
Somewhere along the way, I started calling a spade a shovel and decided to get real with myself. After all, it's a tit-for-tat world. Some guys like tit but I preferred tat. So there I was! I had come out to myself. I no longer had to pretend I was straight. What a relief!
Even in the gay world, you have to kiss a lot of toads before you find the handsome prince - and that's definitely how it was for me. As sleazy as it may seem, I met my partner on the Internet. He was in Swansea, Wales and I was in Kelowna, British Columbia. Only an ocean and a continent stood between us.
Long story short, we overcame the many obstacles and were married in 2000. At that time, we had a "spiritual union" because same-sex marriages were not yet legal in Canada. However we did have benefit of clergy. In 2005 and again in Canada, we were legally married by a justice of the peace. So any way you slice it, we're bagged and tagged both Civilly and Religiously.
Back tracking now, in 2003, Nav, my partner, who works in International Development joined an organization in Johannesburg, South Africa. The plan was to stay for two years and then go back to the civilized world. Presently, we are entering our 9th year of that 2-year stay. What they say about Africa is true. Once it gets hold of you, it never lets go. South Africa has become home.
So in spite of the fact that I came here to retire, I am busier than when I worked in Canada. Here, I am a theatre critic and a lifestyle writer. That means I get to experience and review hotels, resorts and new cars - and I do it on somebody else's dime. Nice work if you can get it and it only took 45 years to find this niche!
Still we go back to Canada often. When you live in a city of 8,000,000, it's nice to cool your jets in a smaller town. That's why Nelson and Rossland, both in BC and North Bay, Ontario are three of our very favourite places to visit. Friends and family are in each location, so there are lots of reasons to go back often.
Well! That's the Reader's Digest version of the saga of Neal, Nav, Shads, Bonnie & Clyde.