
Cheap jewelry is always a popular breeding ground for Kitsch. Kitsch glitz shines especially bright when designs are made to capitalize on popular trends such as the streaking craze that began in the 1960’s and attained astronomical heights when a peace signing streaker crashed the 1974 Academy Awards blazing behind actor David Niven. From that point on, streaking was as glorified in all forms of design, from T-shirts to decals to plaster figurines to the kind of tacky finery you see here.
If the people who practiced the sport had incredible bodies it would make for fine spectator fare but usually it’s just some attention starved paunchy dude with a severe “shortcoming”.
Also, most streakers were/are male so curious they chose a female to be immortalized here. So very 1970’s Woman’s Lib.

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I may have sore thumbs but not green ones. Not an area I have especially great skills in other than I seem to have a talent for nursing baby Palm trees. Nothing that would fit in this 5″ ceramic planter with the perfect green thumb though. Instead, seeds drop from two 80-year-old massively high Palm trees at my house and thousands of little baby Palms sprout all over my yard. They’re faithfully mowed twice a week so they look like the perfect sheared bright green astroturf lawn.
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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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I love actual owls and ladybugs but none so much as these transistorized versions. I have entire zoos and forests of these things but these are two of my favorites – a ladybug who, when you twist her left eyeball, opens her wing to expose a still working speaker and an owl who, when you twist her right pink rhinestone eyeball, chirps the sound of AM radio as clear as the day she was hatched. I bought the owl in the early ’80s and she still works perfectly despite the fact that I’ve never changed her batteries.
The ladybug, all plastic and made in Hong Kong by Sonnet, British Design, is 5 inches long and an inch and a half tall and counting. She comes with a convenient wrist strap and two rubber antennae.
The owl, made in Japan, is 8 inches tall and fat with a plastic body and gold medal wings, eyes, legs and speaker holes in the crotch.
I love actual owls and ladybugs but none so much as these transistorized versions. I have entire zoos and forests of these things but these are two of my favorites – a ladybug who, when you twist her left eyeball, opens her wing to expose a still working speaker and an owl who, when you twist her right pink rhinestone eyeball, chirps the sound of AM radio as clear as the day she was hatched. I bought the owl in the early ’80s and she still works perfectly despite the fact that I’ve never changed her batteries.
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These three beauties are the real deal, the kind that used to bake in the sun in Florida in the 1950’s glory days of pink flamingos, not the hideous shocking pink plastic repros that proliferate in catalogs today. These gals are made of solid concrete and weigh a ton; even the baby is a 10 pounder.
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Classic and prototypical 50’s sports shirt, a prized possession of mine, worn only for the finest relaxing weekend occasions. Not a rip, stain, snag or anything on this honey. I’m not a fisherwoman but this vintage Catalina, the King of Atomic Age casual shirts, is the Katch O’ The Day for sure.
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I see lots of green thumb inspired objects but this articulated fat fleshy hand is one of the best. This kind of molded hard plastic stuff kills me. And the green paint hugs the thumb perfectly like one of those stretchy self-adhesive rubber bandages. Holds just enough water to take care of my matching plastic plants.
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In the 1970’s, more owls lived on wood paneled walls than in trees. The owl is clearly the National Bird in the state of Kitsch as flocks of them thrive in burnt metal, ceramic and the all important Hi Art of Kitsch, String Paintings. This one is especially fancy, incorporating mohair yarn as feathers and a driftwood perch.
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Long before I co-wrote the musical The Color Purple, in which trees are a powerful symbol, I believed these lumber providers were among nature’s most powerful species. But I never knew they could talk. Geraldine Murray, who claims God delivered her the gift of ventriloquism while she was asleep at age 14, apparently felt differently. Her wooden friend, Ricky’s, voice could make your ears bleed, perhaps causing the tree, well actually shrubs, they’re sitting in front of to creak loud enough for Geraldine to interpret it as speaking.
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