Ads that I DON'T like: #104

Perhaps the only way that you could trump the obnoxious and boorish racism at the base of today’s advertisement for coffee would indeed be eschewing coloured models at all!

I am sure that Maxwell House’s logic was one rooted in the question of why even bothering use a primitive savage when you can find two perfectly decent and upstanding white folk, get them to open up the can of boot polish and blacken themselves up for our amusement?

Dare I suggest that – tub of Kiwi aside – you would struggle to find two more Caucasian-looking characters than these two Uni revue rejects?

I hate this ad.

Comments

smudgeon said…

Where do you find these 'ads'?

22 June 2010 at 13:05

Kris McCracken said…

They come from all over. I compiled a whole bunch a few years ago, but neglected to keep track of the sources, so can't cite the location.

That said, I'm down to my last two of that lot, and have got a new regular source that I will be citing beginning in a few weeks. Lots and lots of Chinese Communist propaganda in that new stuff, which amuses me no end.

22 June 2010 at 13:14

Roddy said…

Come on my son, Al Jolson made quite a good living from pretending to be a black man.
I know! It is ethnically inappropriate these days.
All I ask is that the world learn to laugh at themselves as well as others. We may then learn compassion.
Acceptance!! How do we find it?

22 June 2010 at 13:31

Sue said…

Where's Harry Connick Jnr when you need him????

23 June 2010 at 20:26

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, mainly it's been one lot of people laughing at another lot.

Rich people laugh at poor people.

White people laugh at black people.

City folk laugh at country folk.

Get the drift?

24 June 2010 at 18:11

Kris McCracken said…

Sue, urghhh. Hey Hey makes me want to vomit.

24 June 2010 at 18:12

Sue said…

Me too!!!!!!!! Can't stand it!

24 June 2010 at 19:21

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...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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