These photos of the Santa Claus School where one could get a B.S.C. (Bachelor of Santa Claus) degree for $75 were published in the Life Magazine in 1961. Nowadays, our kids are forced to sit on the laps of uneducated Santas who probably can’t even pass the drug test.
I know even less about anime than I know about He’Brew beer; that’s why I put on my costume of a “regular overweight white guy” character and visited the Naka-Kon at the Hyatt where I proceeded to totally blend in. I was surprised by the number of visitors from kids in the colorful costumes, to weirdos in giant multi-zippered human-eating pants who walked their girlfriends on a chain, to some middle-aged child-molester-looking characters. Wide-eyed Hyatt employees where yearning for the days of their regular wrinkled-old-people conventions. My pictures didn’t turn out so great but here are a few that I liked:
When about 1870, a Missouri farmer made himself a pipe out of a hollowed-out corncob, he invented something which has brought a unique industry to Washington, Mo. Since then the Missouri Meerschaum Pipe Company, the world’s biggest corncob pipe maker has made millions of cob pipes for the men who insist that they give the sweetest smoke of all. The pipes are made from oversized white corn which grows well in the rich bottom land around Washington but heavily drains soil fertility. Farmers grow it because they get high prices for kernels and make extra money selling cobs. Today Missouri Meerschaum’s sales run about 10,000,000 pipes annually. Most sell for a dime or a quarter. Few last more than a couple of months.
I was going to write a reply to the discussion about the Jews and Christmas trees, but then I thought that there is no point in doing so: everyone who wants a tree in their house probably will have one, and all others will probably find a reason why they won’t. My only contribution is that you haven’t lived until you smelled a real pine tree inside your house. Just call it a winter tree, New Year’s Tree or a wreath and bring one into your living room.
During the first half of my life, we always had a tree for the New Year holiday. My Jewish Father, who spent a part of his childhood in the ghetto, made sure to find the biggest tree to fit through the door. Having a tree doesn’t make you any less Jewish, and, for certain, it doesn’t reduce the amount of antisemitism directed at you. Not the “someone looked at me funny” antisemitism, but a real, hardcore, state-sponsored harassment.
The tree of my childhood wasn’t associated with anything religious (definitely not for me), but it still had lights, presents and a five-point red star on top.
