Ian Anderson 2 p.m., March 2
Unaccustomed as I am to seeing 'douche' as a verb...
While plowing through e-stacks of TV Radio Mirror I happened across this ad buried in the back pages of the February, 1963 edition.
Look, it's early on a Monday morning and this thing has given me a case of the sillies. Allow me a few minutes for it to work through (not out of) my system, and I'll transcribe and post a nice interview with Miles Teller.
Hey, can anyone name the lead singer of the Vaginettes?
Who needs FDA sanctioning when there's a stern-looking chick from Central Casting wearing a nurse's uniform from Western Costume and extending an advisory index finger?
But what if I like offensive hospital aromas?
Sure wish they made Vaginettes for men to use on their Goobers.
They emphasize the PLAIN wrapper, but how discreet can it be when you have to make the check payable to "Vaginette?" Betcha' anything that Mr. Drysdale and Miss Jane shared a hearty chortle over Granny's monthly stubs.
Speaking of Mr. Drysdale, I 'borrowed' the headline from Jeremy Drysdale's Facebook repost. Thank you, sir!
I feel much better now. And I did it without my morning cup of coffee!