THE WAFFLEMAN: Ode To The 1950s

Yo! Here we go again with this sent to me by a reader. I have no idea who put this together, but I think it is wonderful!

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot, before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot. There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me, for Ike was in the White House in the land that made me – me.

I’m of that far-off country, that land where we were born, where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn. We danced to “Little Darlin”, and sang to “Stagger Lee” and cried for Buddy Holly in the land that made me – me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and three was one too many, where only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jenny McKinney, and only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see a Boy named George with lipstick in the land that made me – me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp, and Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp. We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T, and Oprah couldn’t talk yet, in the land that made me – me.

We’d never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars, and babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars, and pumping iron got wrinkles out, and “gay” meant fancy-free, and dorms were never co-ed in the land that made me – me.

We hadn’t seen enough of jets to talk about the lag, and microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag. Hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea, and rocket ships were fiction in the land that made me – me.

Buicks came with portholes, and sideshows came with freaks, and girls’ bathing suits came big enough to cover both their cheeks. Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee. We had no Crest with Fluoride in the land that made me – me.

Elvis was forever. We had no “Hill Street Blues”. We all wore superstructure bras designed by Howard Hughes. We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea or prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the land that made me – me.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill, and fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill and middle-aged was 35 and old was 45, and ancient were our parents in the land that made me – me.

But all things have a season, or so we’ve heard them say, and now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A, and now they send us invitations to join AARP. We’ve come a long way baby, from the land that made me – me.

So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans, and wonder why they’re using smaller print in magazines, and we tell our children’s children of the way it used to be, long ago and far away, in the land that made me – me.