Oh we are suckers for nostalgia are we not? Oh those ads in the back of comic books. Not only did you get 52 pages of good reading for your dime, but in the back it gave you an entryway to fantastic bargains. I sent in for I think it was 100 soldiers (army men as we called them) for a buck, and waited and waited by the mailbox and when I got them one side of them was flat and they were really tiny.
But there were a hundred of them, so it was a more honest deal than the gadget that threw your voice. What I was really interested in of course were the 3d glasses, but I was afraid that Mom would intercept the package and would know right away that I was up to no good. The gadget as I recall was some kind of whistle and a page of instructions that didn't make any sense.
I've never seen any ads on the blog, I suspect we are not high volume enough for anybody to bother with, and as yet I haven't seen any ads for Nikkii Minaj or fake butts in my facebook feed. Now that I think about it there used to be ads for fake butts too. Not in comic books, but in those romance magazines that my sisters left lying around where their brother could sneak a peek to see if there was anything lurid in them. If either of my sisters sent in for a fake butt I never heard about it.
Well I still wonder what will happen when all the work is done by robots. What will happen to those of us who used to do all the work and don't the guys who own the robots need somebody to buy all the crap that the robots make? I suppose they could pay the robots to make the crap and then program the robots to buy the crap. And money, you know it used to be like jewels and gold. You couldn't eat it, but at least it was something shiny, than it became paper which doesn't have as much substance, but at least it was something. Now it is just blips in a machine, I suppose if you owned the machine you could get whatever blips you wanted.
If you were the only man on Earth I suppose you would be the richest, but we are a social animal and we at least need people to envy us. Maybe the new super rich with their armies of robots could become like local gods. If you joined their church you would be clothed and fed, but you would have to sing songs of praise to them and perform whatever wacky rituals came to their mind.
I am thinking of Vonnegut's Player Piano with the reeks and wrecks. Wow I just looked that up and it was published in 1952, possibly at the time of the Sawyer School Blue Jeans incident.
I was just now wondering if this discussion of Nikki Minaj's butt had increased our ratings in cyberspace so I googled Beaglesonian and came up with several responses. I wonder if this is because google knows who I am. As I recall when I was in Missouri I tried to see what was going on with The Institute, but when I googled Beaglesonian on Ruby Doo's computer I got no response.
I did get a response to beaglesonian nicki minaj butt, so hop into the handbasket guys, it will be a rocky ride.
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