Ads that I like: # 118

This little ripper of an ad emerged out of China just as the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution was kicking off. I suspect that the artist might have had an idea what an angry mob baying for blood might have looked like.

The tagline for this campaign is the snappy Resolutely support the American people in their resistance against American imperialist aggression in Vietnam. I especially like how the artist has managed slip in what I expect were a multitude of ‘gags’ to impress his friend.

For example, what is Leon Trotsky doing there? In fact, I believe that they have gone with Trotsky as the primary model, and hilariously fused in Stalin’s brow as an unsubtle pop to their Internationalist cousins.

And what is with that angry French sailor (I expect he’s from Martinique)? I know that Red China was pretty much a closed state, but those Anglo features and African skin tones really do clash with the Gallic shirt…

Added props must also be awarded for sneaking in that Ukrainian kulak on the extreme left (note the irony there).

Honestly, could there possibly have ever been a scene in the whole of the United States that even remotely resembled this gathering in 1966?

Comments

Roddy said…

My god, you do some homework when you dismantle a pamphlet.
What a mismatch of society from 1966. I guess this could only happen in the enlightened era of Chinese conscientiousness.
Sixty six. I couldn't even see black and white together. Unless they were asking for trouble.

5 October 2010 at 17:13

Pasadena Adjacent said…

You haven't been to Los Angeles have you?

very funny (and now I know what a kulak is)

6 October 2010 at 02:23

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, I didn't even mention the angry Michael Douglas-lookalike from Falling Down...

PA, no I haven't. The poor Kulaks. Stalin didn't like them very much.

6 October 2010 at 09:59

Roddy said…

Where, where?

6 October 2010 at 14:49

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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