I never really got into The Smurfs. That shade of blue was definitely not my favorite color and I didn’t have the patience to learn the Smurf language. I also didn’t have the patience to study Hebrew for the couple of years I attended Hebrew school at Beth Aaron, right across the street from Mumford High in Detroit, so have no idea what this Smurf is saying.
The only thing that kept me going to Hebrew School for the two years of one afternoon a week after school I went was the candy truck in the parking lot where we boarded the bus. I was bad enough at languages that use English lettering but once it came to Hebrew (or Chinese or Arabic or anything else that wasn’t the straight 26 letters I was used to) my brain turned into a quivering Jell-O mold. I hope this Smurf is saying nice to go along with the flowers he’s offering.
If only he was holding a bottle of Mogen David.
I do love that he’s speaking in a language other than his native Dutch or adopted English. And I do hope he’s not saying anything anything offensive but, rather, something like “Have and happy Passover and please enjoy the matzoh.”.
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Anyone reading my blog long enough knows I’m an unabashed lover of junk food. My conscience has upped through the years but in a perfect world I would sustain myself on the Cheetos end of the scale. I learned how to make a Cherpumple and oftentimes take trips in search of the best food junk has to offer. Last weekend I took a trip up to Alameda, CA in search of real junk, both food and artifacts, when two of the most dedicated members of The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch at AWMOK.com were filmed for a segment of The Style Network’s Clean House.
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When I grew up in Detroit I went to the zoo on 10 Mile and Woodward at least a couple times a year. Although I got this particular chapeau on Ebay, I’m certain I had one exactly like it as I never went there without something separating me from the sun. I was quite fond of theme hats as a kid.
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I always hated these theme hats but ever since I’ve had my Kitsch O’ The Day blog I’ve found one that’s dumber than the next and that seems to serve the cause of Kitsch well. In the case of this particular Christmas tree chapeau, I hope that most people who don it bought it for themselves as opposed to getting it from under the real tree as it lives up to excessively few of its claims. For example, the label definitely leads one to believe that the star on top lights up and stands erect as any good tree topper should:
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Anyone who’s ever driven past Norwood Young’s house in LA knows that it’s a prime candidate for a Kitschmas smorgasbord unlike all others. Depending on who you talk to, known affectionately or despicably as the House of Davids, it has enough wrought iron to circle the White House, all of which protects the 21 statues of David that line the driveway upon which usually sits Norwood’s jewel encrusted Rolls Royce. Here’s what Youngwood Court, as it’s officially known, looks like all year except December:
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I used to hate these theme hats as they always look so dorky. But now that I have a blog and a museum that spotlight kitsch this sort of haberdashery seems to fit right in, especially when it’s on my head. And especially when it’s this awkward menorah hat on this first day of Hanukah. The candles don’t stand up straight and nine candles is kind of too wide for a hat anyway.
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Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! May you have much turkey, tofurkey or whatever else you choose to stuff yourself with today!
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Once again I don the Easter bonnet I made to go to my friend April Winchell’s mother’s house Easter, 1998 where she had a smorgasbord of international foods, the unrecognizable contents of which were festooned with name tags stuck into the dishes on popsicle sticks, an excellent sign if one likes a side of Kitsch with their holidays.
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Fantasia as Celie. Fantastic cast, many from the original Broadway production. Five years of my life into the making of this baby. I’m very proud of it. If you’re in LA come to the Pantages.
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‘Tis the season to be celebrating all kinds of krazy krafts as the holidays seem to bring out the most enthusiastic and kitschy kualities in krafters. These kind of stuffed pantyhose dolls scare me more than Cabbage Patch dolls or apple people because it seems so gross to be using old garments that have snuggled so close to the sweet spot only to be caressed in their new lifeform like they were as fresh as the driven snow. Whoever made these has probably been stuffing their old pantyhose into a drawer since they first sprung on the market in the 1960s.
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