Chowderhead Bazoo

TCB

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Clearly, we've really simplified and streamlined things since these crusty, musty olden times. Actually, these twiggy tinker-toy desks look like they would simply crumble under the weight of today's busy desktop of hi-tech business accessories - although that groovy-looking typewriter probably weighs as much as a small safe.

Sad houseplants were also a staple of yesteryear's spartan office, usually as ready ammunition for secretaries fending off bosses who were chasing them around the desk trying to get a handful of polyester. No wonder the "Hang in There, Baby" cat poster was the office meme of the day - a precursor to the LOLcat, but without the stupid spelling.

And is it just me or does two hundred and five bucks sound a little steep for that ugly thing at the top there, especially at 1974 prices? I guess we can thank Ikea for at least making cheap crap cheap. And giving it a snazzy name like Snoortenflap.

The Art of Swank Living

It's easy to forget that back in the 70's everyone was either a pimp or a porn star and that Penthouse publisher Bob Guccione was also an interior decorator with a much-imitated and influential style. One might barely recall also that the word "swank" was the "awesome" of its day, with everything from a chandelier to a lavender toilet quite handily described as such. So I just thought I'd remind you.

I Buried My White Liberal Guilt at Wounded Knee

Much to the chagrin of housekeeper Alice, a mischievous First Nations teen tags the Brady teepee with Ojibway symbols for "get off of our land," thereby putting a real damper on A Very Brady Genocide.

Hard Hat and Brown Britches

They appear to be glaring defiantly at the guy who got the more desirable helmet colour.

If this was going on in 1974, can we really say that we've progressed that much? Would today's construction worker dare wear one of these outfits on the job? Or did that one guy from the Village People ruin everything for the common labourer? You be the judge. But while you're judging, try not to let your eyes fall into the magnetic vortexes of their trouser creases.

The Bricks May Be Fake, But the Terror is Real

Welcome to Jamie Farr's love bunker. He has given his own walls a new look easily. Yes, his own walls. Jamie Farr says you can fake brick your own damn walls. He has gone to prepare the pina coladas, leaving his quarry to peruse his shocking and disgusting magazine collection. Now, note how the quarry is attempting to camouflage herself. Fear has taken over. She has realized there are no windows and wait - where did the door go? She recoils from the searing brightness of the table lamp, but all of her defensive maneuvers will be in vain. For there can be no escape from Jamie Farr's love bunker.

(Kling klang image to engorge.)

Eaton's Catalog 1974

Run for your lives - it's 1974!

Rummaging around a small town thrift store, I came across this treasure trove of groovy gouda gold, its stinky pages positively stuffed with all manner of klassic Me Decade eyesores. I had to have it.

I know there are plenty of sites out there making hilarious hay outta' the hideous fashions and goofy-looking models of the era, so I'll probably keep that to a minimum and concentrate on the less raked over bits like fuzzy toilet seat covers and family-size teepees. Yes, teepees.

Now, I don't want to lay a nostalgia trip on you, baby - that's not my scene - but here's a quick glance at what was going down in 1974 - the tail end of Nixon and Watergate, the energy crisis, Patty Hearst, Ted Bundy, America finally hauling its thoroughly kicked ass out of Vietnam, and the rise of Abba and disco. And to think that the decade would keep on sucking hard for six more years. Trust me, I was there.

Eaton's went belly-up a few years ago after 130 years in business - one of Canada's oldest retailers after the Hudson's Bay Company. Normally I would have lamented this loss as it only means more American chains like Wal-Mart taking us over, but I went into the revamped last-stab version of Eaton's here in Downtown Vancouver shortly before they pulled the plug, and I actually heard gansta rap playing over the store's sound system. Nothing like hearing "motherfucker" while you're buying socks. I'm not kidding. Needless to say that after that I found it difficult to feel sorry for them.

Anyway, back to '74 - here's a little sneak peek at what's lurking between the covers - and I'm going to let you write your own wise-ass caption for this one.