Anytime I hear anything by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, I think of a guy I went to school with who idolized the band. He liked to dress like the lead singer, scarf, little round sunglasses, the works. I remember he also had a “Frankie says RELAX!” t-shirt. We tried to tell him that they were all gay–I mean, what do you think those lyrics mean?– but he refused to believe it. “They are not!” he would retort hotly.
I wonder if he ever found the dangling light bulb cord, pulled it, and discovered himself to be in the closet?
This absolutely terrific short film from 1935 showed up on YouTube. It shows the manufacturing process of a Remington No.16 typewriter from milling to final assembly. There’s a stop-motion animation sequence toward the end that would have made Ray Harryhausen proud.
Detective Polhaus: “Heavy. What is it?”
Sam Spade: “The, uh, stuff that dreams are made of.”
Last night was rainy. Several storms moved through the area, bringing heavy rain, strong wind, and occasional light hail. The lightning show was spectacular.
Under normal circumstances, I would not have been out in it, braving the rain-slicked roads in the Mustang. It’s low-traction and high-torque. It doesn’t take much to make it fishtail or hydroplane in bad weather. But no rain clouds would deter me this night as I rounded the Twin Cities and headed north. For you see, these storm clouds had a silver lining.
A sterling silver lining, to be exact.
It’s a bit tarnished now, but with the proper care it should shine up nicely. For those unfamiliar, this is the almost-never-seen sterling silver edition Smith-Corona Sterling. The body is solid sterling silver, made by Gorham. They were made as part of a promotional window display for dealers in late 1931. The most accurate figure I have located for the total number made is 184. Only a fraction of those seem to have survived. Perhaps the reason for that is that Smith-Corona actually suggested to dealers that if they didn’t sell the silver machine by the end of the promotion they could recoup most of the cost of the $127.50 display by selling the machine in a regular housing and taking the silver housing to a silversmith for the market price of the silver.
I sort of wish I still had up my old Stop Defacing Rochester! blog, because I would certainly be blowing digital raspberries at this sacrilege.
Clearly, the people behind Big Brad’s on Broadway (not to be confused with any of the other nonexistent Big Brad’s locations) put zero consideration into the grand, historic 110-year-old building that for over a century housed the Paine Furniture store.
Big Brad's on Broadway
The cheap brick façade, tiny rectangular window, and cartoonish handpainted sign make it look less like an upscale bar and more like the kind of place that you would want to slip into unobserved.
I’m sure neon beer signs galore can be expected to emanate their gaudy countenance upon what remains of a once proud building.
