It's turning fallish. I can smell the snark in the air

If it hadn’t been for the missus, I’d never have found it. She’d been talking about the Chelsea Antique Mall, a sizeable establishment outside of Birmingham named in honor of the former president’s daughter. Either that, or it got its name from the city of Chelsea, where it’s located. I haven’t done that much research on it, to be honest.

At any rate, we drove out there a few weekends ago to peruse and see if there were any suitable snark targets. And while we didn’t set any records in terms of quantity, we flat-out slapped one out of the park and into the third solar system on the right.

Lemme explain.

In amidst some fair-to-middling snark bits, there was one gem of pure fifties cheese. It wasn’t in the best of shape, and it had acquired a patina of sepia in the intervening decades, but I didn’t care. All it had was some of The. Greatest. Pictures. EVAR. As the ubiquitous they are wont to say, with some pretty knee-slapping copy to go along with those pics.

The first few pages are in really rough shape, so I don’t know when it was published, and the spine only says “1001 Hints Etiquette,” which I doubt was the complete title. No matter. It’s in good enough shape to see that it was a series of fifties-era ridiculously over-the-top fake letters to “Jennie,” a pseudo-Ann Landers for the clueless, and Jennie’s equally over-the-top answers.

Now, let’s get this retro party started. (I scanned these with the old scanner, so you’ll have to overlook any streaks for the time being. I’ll rescan ’em later with the new unit.)