The 40’s and 50’s were rife with the misleading mania of printed advertisements. Back when newspapers served a broader purpose than lining an assortment of animals’ cages and making pinatas, they ran on the ads that filled them.
Wholesome as the elderly love to portray their hayday as having been, the many ads they were bombarded with say otherwise. From deliberately disingenuous to incredibly offensive and overtly sexual, the ads of the past were about as wholesome as an Operatic performance of ‘Jersey Shore.’
Nowadays, the grand majority of these vintage ads are nothing short of hilarious. The images below make better ironic artwork than actual advertisements – the kinds of creations you’d use CanvasOnDemand.com to turn into whimsical wall art.
Misguided as many of them may be, they make for excellent eye fodder and, clearly, a compelling article topic. With that in mind, I give you a small collection of ludicrous vintage ads.
Why no, I most assuredly am not! Or am I? How do I respond?
Ah yes, by emptying my pockets in the open hands of the nearest Orange Crush distributor, of course. Silly me!
It’s about dang time! Go on, undress. I’ll wait right here, in my Munsingwear ‘stretchy-seat’ man-briefs… like a man!
What? There’s nothing innappropriate about two grown men wrestling each other in their underwear. Especially not when their groping session is referred to as getting “down to business.”
I always knew something was different about that Jell-o.
Where more dignified treats rest in wait of indiscriminate devouring at the hands of the physically irresponsible, ol’ Jell-o sits around wobbling to and fro. Only a truly “gay” dessert would behave that way.
You can’t pay to kill yourself in most parts of the world. But, if you’ve a lunatic for a mother and enough cash on hand, this should suffice.
Say, that is a hot one!
With “no covering of any kind on them,” these wieners must be superb. Truly, the only way to enjoy a good wiener is sans its icky skin. Why, I wouldn’t think of slurping down a wiener with a “covering of any kind” on it; I like my wieners skinless!
Welcome, one and all, to the glorious shores of the future. Here, amidst rocket cars and rocket packs, rocket shoes and plain ol’ rockets, we delight in our most cherished innovation; Space Command TV.
Named after the nothingness between you and the cathode ray you know and love, this TV set is a marvel like no other. With this simple “silent sound” tuning mechanism, you can be a jerk to your wife without leaving your seat.
Oh, most excellent! Most delightful! This hand-fed banana thou art feeding me is most flavorful esquire Jimmy!
I do declare, lass Bonnie, this is most innocuous and most appropriate an ad!
If but a single word were to be chosen as a means of relating the first impression a gentlemanly fellow might get from miss Funicello’s candid statement, it would most definitely be “classy.”
I’ll be sure to ask my spelunker, err, doctor about these during my next checkup.
Nothing moves stock like MURDER!
This is all fine and dandy, but it does beg the question of what exactly might qualify as a flying pest. Bugs might not be the only things dropping dead.
Merke Institute’s claims are murky indeed.
No cost? One would think dignity a high enough price to pay for such a chance at humiliation as this. Also, for the record, an upturned trash receptacle hardly constitutes a “new kind of hat.”
It takes elbow grease to maintain a stunning set of pearly whites. However, it also takes grease.
Your teeth, like any other machine, must be lubricated regularly with an appropriate medium. But don’t take my word for it; ask any one of the “millions” who have already reported “astonishing results.” Just don’t inquire as to what those results actually were.
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