Old Ads that I Like #6

A guilty pleasure, but ah the good old days, where completely, utterly hateful and odious racial stereotypes sat right at the centre of ad campaigns!

Comments

sam said…

I've had some monumental arguments with my 90 year old father over the years, about the bigotry of his generation of British Colonial types. Given the sort of prevailing attitudes that these adverts portray, I guess he was merely a product of the times, although I still wish he'd had the intellegence/sensitivity/humanity to challenge some of that thinking in his later years!

3 September 2008 at 11:11

Kris McCracken said…

I would imagine that it is difficult to reconcile the many years of conditioning to think a certain way with a world that is changing in quite uncertain ways. My late Italian grandmother simply refused to have a ‘darkie’ (Pakistani) as a doctor, I guess because she’d been raised to think them uncouth and uneducated (uneducatable?) It always jarred with me, because those sorts of views were very much un-expressible in Australia of the early-1990s (that was to change briefly, albeit racially charged views have to be coated in far more ambiguous clothing). This is progress, not an eradication of unenlightened views, but a gradual whittling away. Perhaps the demand to eradicate instantaneously formerly held truths does more harm than good. I’m not sure of what way would be best, however!

3 September 2008 at 11:32

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

Search This Blog