Calendar-related Mockery

After a certain amount of eBay-related shenanigans, I finally have my calendar for 2003. It's a Standard Oil calendar from 1958, but since 1958 and 2003 have the same calendar (because they're both non-leap years that begin on a Wednesday), it works out fine. So instead of having a hokey "1950s advertising art" calendar, I have an actual 1950s calendar with advertising art. And as you might expect, the art is frequently very, very strange.

The first month is actually December 1957, and the picture features Baby New Year and Santa Claus. Unless Santa is moonlighting as the Old Year Guy who's normally paired with Baby New Year. But normally when you have an old man to represent the year that's ending, he's not as healthy as Santa looks here. Maybe Santa and Baby New Year are just goofing around in the Iconic Mythological Character break room.

I don't understand what the heck is going on in January, but I think the two dogs behind the fire extinguisher are ogling the poodle. This might be a good time to warn you that this calendar's art is frequently sexist. I mean, mind-bogglingly sexist. Since this calendar was made by Standard Oil, it was designed to hang in a gas station all year. That's also why it smells so strongly of cigarette smoke. Seriously, while I was scanning in the pictures, I had to wash my hands twice. The sheer manliness emanating from this calendar is enough to make you wonder just how much beef they ate in 1958.

Note the woman's uncovered ankle. Scandalous!

February, of course, is the month for bowling. And then for clapping your hand to your forehead because you can't believe how incompetent women are at bowling. This guy is just stunned. You can't really make out the scores, but he's got 152 pins, and she's got 98. So she's not really all that far behind him, and I think he ought to lay off the exaggerated facial expressions. On the other hand, look where she's standing. I mean, of course she got a gutterball; she's practically standing in the next lane over. She could at least not put her left foot over the foul line and crank it over 90 degrees like that. Frankly, I'm impressed that she got 98 with that kind of form.

I left in a bit more of the calendar for this one so you could see the Standard Oil advertising copy which fills black days. It says "For wear-free, care-free driving, Drain winter-weary oil and refill with Super PERMALUBE" I just enjoy that phrase.

March. The month where creepy guys sow seeds. I don't know what he's planting, but he's got a whole lot of seeds. But what's this? Oh no! The birds are coming in behind him and eating all the seeds! Oh, creepy seed-sowing guy. Will you ever win?

You can see how the art takes into account the changing of the seasons. There's a time to reap, a time to sow, and a time to refill with Super Permalube.

April, of course, is the Tax Month. So this guy has gone to pay his taxes, I guess. See the sign that says "Pay Tax Here"? I wonder if I could put up a sign like that and trick people into showing up and handing me checks.

I think the idea is that hie enormous family means that he has a lot of deductions. I notice there's no mother in the picture, probably because she dropped dead after giving birth to triplets right after the twin boys. The twins, BTW, are clearly evil. I like how the artist just drew the same boy twice, barely even changing his expression.

A maypole? Did they actually have maypoles in 1958? Children really got ripped off back then, didn't they? It looks like the adults took a stick and some ribbon and ordered all seven kids to go entertain themselves all day. Video games were a brilliant invention, because kids don't have to dress up.

But the whole maypole experience is ruined by this one evil boy, who's going the wrong way. Look at his face; he's filled with the joy of doing Satan's work. The girl in the yellow dress is standing stock-still with terror. A boy! Oh no! The girl behind her, though, has more spunk, and his sticking her tongue out at the evil boy. I like how he's disrupting the whole activity, but he's still holding the maypole ribbon. So he's working within the constraints of the whole maypole thing.

A June wedding, and for once, the man is the clod. I'm not sure what that red thing by his foot is. It might be a broken suspender, or it might be a dog collar. Is a dog collar too risque for 1958? It's probably a suspender. So what does that mean? Are his pants about to come down right in the middle of his wedding? Won't that scandalize everyone?

Also, it might be my imagination, but is the priest standing really, really close to the bride? Like, he's directly in front of her and he's standing about six inches away. Is he doing the whole service from there?

If you're going to paint a baseball game in 1958, everybody has to be apple-cheeked. young boys, old men, hat-wearing adults, everybody. It's the Norman Rockwell effect. It's a good thing that boy is catching the ball, because the old man looks positively terrified.

In fact, everybody but the young boy is terrified. Look out! It's a foul ball! Or possibly a home run! Everyone lean away! The only two people trying to catch the ball are the boy and the codger. And they're both using the fairly uncommon "two cupped hands" technique. Was that common in the '50s? Is that what they did instead of using outfielder's gloves?

I love August. It's hot, it's uncomfortable, and it's carnival season! Apparently, in 1958, carnivals had tattoo tents. Which makes sense, I guess. I mean, carnies always seem to have a lot of tattoos, so why not have someone on staff? I note that according to the tent, it's a "Manly Tattoo Artist". That "manly" part makes me laugh, as does the fact that the artist looks a lot like Rodney Dangerfield.

I also like the implication that the Manly Tattoo Artist is perfectly happy to put ink on any towheaded kid who wanders up to the tent. Whaddya want, kid? A snake? No problem. That'll be three tickets. And then the mother comes up and drags the boy away by his ear. That looks unsafe, doesn't it? I mean, there's still a greasy carnival tattoo artist poking him with a needle.

This is the "back-to-school" art for September. I don't get this one. I understand that the kid's trying to drag his dog off the bus, but why? Did he take his dog to school? Does the dog understand algebra? And how come the kid only has one book? Shouldn't there be more learning going on?

Luckily, the artist's talent for overwrought facial expressions saves the picture. The bus driver has clearly given up. "This kid!" he says. "He's killin' me!"

In October, people go to movies. And women annoy the menfolk by losing their shoes. There's a lot going on in this picture. First of all, like I say, you've got a lot of guys glaring at a woman for annoying them. "This is what we get fot teaching them to talk" is what they're thinking. Then, for the slightly greasier guy hanging out in the gas station, you've got the Ankle factor. There's even a (gasp!) bare foot, if that's what you're into.

And finally, you've got an actual theater usher mounting the massive Missing Shoe Search Operation. Just how lost can a shoe get? If you ask me, her shoe was probably stolen by that guy on the right side of the picture.

November. Thanksgiving. More womenfolk. She's actually crying because there's a problem with the Thanksgiving turkey. It seems that the turkey is too big to fit in the oven. I think there may be some symbolism involved here, but I don't want to think about it.

That's a huge turkey. I hope there's more than just the two of them eating it, because they'll be eating leftovers until 1970.

Finally, we reach December. And the husband and wife have forgiven each other, showing that any family can work as long as you're willing to suppress your loathing. Their son in the background looks shocked that mommy's sitting on Santa Claus's lap. If he keeps watching, he's going to get traumatized.

And thus ends the calendar. Next year's a leap year, which cuts down on the possible calendars I can use. I'm hoping to find an 1880 calendar at some point during the year, but I'm keeping my eye out for other years.