Every now and then, we look back at the past and laugh uproariously at our stupid ancestors. Sure, they get a gold star for saving the free world from Nazis, but they also get a negative million stars for giving toddlers cocaine for toothaches. These vintage ads, however, are a specific kind of shameful ... the sexual kind. From what we can tell, 20th century admen were either hopelessly naive or diabolically perverted. Either way, we can laugh at the fruits of their labor.
When God wanted the world to be fancier, he invented penguins. And when he wanted to laugh, he invented hot dogs, because there is nothing funnier than penis-shaped food. Rather, nothing funnier except when pretty people trip on the curb, but who wants to eat that? Hot dogs, on the other hand, aren't just hilarious -- they're delicious. Anyone who says otherwise is probably going to hell. Look it up -- 1 Hezekiah 17:3b (NIV).
But here's what you probably didn't know: In addition to enjoying all the Social Security they could get their grubby hands on, the last few generations have also benefited from the greatest hot dog technology since the first bun was split. Until 1925, hot dongs came to the table shoved into sheep intestine casings. As if people needed more reasons to hate themselves for gorging on phallusy pig innards.
So let's set the scene of what you're about to see: One minute, you're willing to slice open a sheep's intestine in order to enjoy the processed meat product cooked inside it, and the next minute, a guy announces that he invented a way to case, cook and uncase the hot dog before it ever leaves the factory. It's like someone removed the dog poop before you ate your macaroni and cheese! Or better yet, removed the pig butt cheeks before you ate your hot dogs. It's a miracle! Of course you're going to get excited. Too bad this was the way the revolution in wieners got phrased in advertisements:
I hate this family. That fairy tale book has nothing to do with wiener fairies and you know it, you sick old lady. The little girl knows it, too. She just wants to talk about skinless wieners, and that's why she's SHOUTING WITH CAPITAL LETTERS AT HER GRANDMA. Look at how she's got her hand on her grandmother's flappy neck meat. She's manipulating the whole conversation, relentlessly driving it toward that which was once only a faraway dream -- meat tubes that aren't served in sheep entrails. If this is story time on the sofa, can you imagine what these people are like when they're served actual skinless hot dogs at a barbecue? Breathless wonder and elderly orgasms all around.
This time the hot dogs have faces and sing a ballad about how they lost their skins. It's like one of the Just So Stories sung by your junk food just before you destroy it with your mouth. That one on the end -- I'm not sure, but I think she's a lady hot dog, thus the modesty. Too bad that towel and powder puff overly emphasize the fact that she is really, really shaped like a penis that you can eat. Squinch your eyes and you can see it.
Buried in all that pornography is a subtle insult to the reader. The copy says "Skinless frankfurters are sure to be tender because they have no skins!" I like how "because they have no skins" was added almost parenthetically, just in case the readers couldn't figure out what "skinless" meant. Then again, we're talking about people who referred to skinless wieners without suffering a giggle fit, so maybe they weren't so bright.
Most egregious of all is the ad below, when Jughead Junior and Bill "NO SKINS!" O'Hannomalley learn a lesson in life and love.
Say what you want about the folks behind Skinless Wieners, but they sure did know how to serve frankfurters with chocolate chip ice cream, bacon with a side of bird poops.
Well, to be fair, I'm 98 percent sure that "Toss that salad!" wasn't on the tip of the tongue for our grandparents, so to speak. This is just a case of us with our dirty minds applying modern sex slang decades after the fact, like when we make fun of "Pork the Other White Meat" and "Got Milk?" I don't even know what tossing a salad means outside the kitchen, so let's move on.
(Is it that thing when you use your tongue to kiss your partner? In prison?)
Before there was such a thing as Rule 34, Mickey Mouse was giving the freaks all the ammunition they'd ever need with this saucy exchange. It starts as all pornos start: with one huge girl rodent sitting in a tree while paying a sweet, innocent compliment to her huge rodent boyfriend dangling from a wisp of a branch. At least I think that saying that your boyfriend is ahead of milk in terms of bestness is a compliment.
But Mickey Mouse takes that innocuous comment and tosses a fat salad with it. Forget the fact that he countered Minnie's altruistic remark with a conceited comment about himself. And even forget that the packaging never identifies the milk as having an affiliation with Walt Disney. That pretentious rat took ownership of something that didn't even have anything to do with him. "Allow me to compliment you on my Pyramid of Khufu, m'lady." (Doffs imaginary hat and bows.) That's my impression of Mickey Mouse visiting Egypt.
So Mickey's self-absorption is problem number one, which I told you to forget. The real problem, as you've already figured out, has nothing to do with his weird selfishness. It's that Mickey wants to put his mouse milk inside of Minnie because Mickey's bodily fluids are the best thing in the world. Coupled with their aggressive pointing, their overeager Pac-Man-shaped eyes and whatever humping motion is going on with Mickey's lower half, we can all agree that no one skipped the bong the day this was written.