Burden’s Hint is What It is
Coming from ages back in the day …
Earlier this week, I recalled a friend about how easily the twenty-first century teenagers have it with respect for their hormonal urges-at least visually. Real fame from stains and depravity is available 24/7 for one person who has access to the Internet. We have never had a meal so easy to get into places, um, fine art.
During my formative years there was a girlie sneak-a-peak magazine available to those lucky enough to have an older brother or father who tended to study art (laugh out loud) in human form. Some older men try to disguise their voyeuristic tendencies by being shutterbugs, joining a camera club, and subscribing to certain photographic industry publications, featuring many nude women to illustrate the use of shadows, etc., and others to improve their techniques. (Yes, that’s right.) Both types of periodical publications are hidden from our screaming eyes, and (I’ll bet) from the wife. I remember finding a photo magazine on my dad’s desk, and the electrical sensation actually saw my chest open, which made my hormones shake. Of course I never disclose my invention so I can crawl back at the right moment for other lingering looks. Burden’s Hint is What It is
I never “read” girlie magazines until I went to college. Our fraternity toilet is complete with what we call a chicken book. Most are old and ragged, but that does not spoil the picture inside. We used to lie to each other saying that we were very interested in articles, cartoons, and jokes. Prior to that, as an eleven-year paperboy, I was exposed to an eight-page comic porn comedy called the eight pagers or Tijuana Bibles. A gray-haired typist in the paper gave them, I suspect only to laugh at our reaction. Eight pagers featured famous newspaper comic subjects and film personnel in a ridiculous state. Let’s see … there are Dagwood and Blondie, Popeye, Roy Rogers and Trigger, Dick Tracy, and many others.
After all, no one can compete with an Internet offering today … except for one live version. One veteran examiner who submitted our newspaper to the new press would cheer us up as we sat down and packed up our newspaper to be sent, with a magical story about what he called idle. We thought he should pull our legs, but one of the older paperboys said it was true because he read the ad about two solid gestures in the nearest major city newspaper. Since my parents subscribed to the paper, I could not wait to go home and check it myself. Burden’s Hint is What It is
The Toledo Blade has two or three regular sections, and a four quadruple section on the back is called the Peach Section because of its approximate color. Mainly contains funny columns, puzzles, a comic titled, Miss Peach, and ads for upcoming attractions in local theaters. Among the cinematic advertisements are announcements (with photos) for two ridiculous theater, Townhall and Gaiety. The photographs were of a woman dressed in skimpy in harem clothes by coming-whether a smile, and a small cover announcing whatever comic appeared. Whoa! The stool is real! The ladies had big chests that the beasters said they were really going to be naked! I can not wait to tell my friends. First, I saw my father sitting in a recliner reading a sports page. I decided to try something … I pointed to the Townhall ad.
“Hey, Dad, what are they doing with a solid gesture?” I looked at her innocently and lifted Peach’s section.
He was amused. “It’s not a habit, it’s pronounced burlesk. It’s a theater where comedians do their work, and many famous comics start appearing in ridicule.”
My mother looked up and interrupted. “It’s also where women take off their clothes for vulgar men.It’s not that great.” She looked at me sharply. “This is indecent.”
“Oh, um okay, I saw the pictures in Peach Section, and just wondering.” I act like everything is so boring, and hope they buy it.
Toledo is an hour north of the car, which takes too long to ride a bike along the dangerous US-24. More discouraging is a small insert in a mock advertisement that says someone should be 18 years old to be accepted. The next day in the newspaper, firefighters said they were not sweating because they did not check ID. He says they let high school kids all the time. Because my friends and I are twelve or thirteen years old