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Published in the late Nineteenth Century by Chas. Shield & Sons of Gold Street in New York City, this chromolithograph was printed, but never used by anyone as a proper trade card. Therefore, it remains unusually crisp and bright—saved from the stress of over-printing and commercial distribution. This is the sort of card which was purchased for a catalog and probably handed out as a premium or free gift with purchase. Likely, it was immediately spirited away and placed in an album where it was protected from sunlight and oily fingers for over a century.
It depicts a tender scene of a young couple snuggling beneath an umbrella. Well, tender to most people. To me, beaches don’t make me think romantic thoughts. They’re my idea of hell—close to angry waters filled with all manner of waste—both natural and otherwise—corpses of assorted species, vicious creatures and potential demise. Not to mention the sand—squishy, clinging, abrasive sand, the smell of salty decay and the sting of cruel winds. So, to me, this is a scene of two people huddling together to save their lives, their clothes soaking in moisture from the porous mess beneath them. They’re cold. They’re frightened. Before them, ships carry people off into the perilous waters. The only comfort they have comes from the color of their umbrella, a nod to Mr. Punch—the only bright spot on the sea.
But, that’s just me. Admittedly, I’m not right—in a host of ways.
I just think this is the perfect opportunity for a caption contest. You know how it works.
It depicts a tender scene of a young couple snuggling beneath an umbrella. Well, tender to most people. To me, beaches don’t make me think romantic thoughts. They’re my idea of hell—close to angry waters filled with all manner of waste—both natural and otherwise—corpses of assorted species, vicious creatures and potential demise. Not to mention the sand—squishy, clinging, abrasive sand, the smell of salty decay and the sting of cruel winds. So, to me, this is a scene of two people huddling together to save their lives, their clothes soaking in moisture from the porous mess beneath them. They’re cold. They’re frightened. Before them, ships carry people off into the perilous waters. The only comfort they have comes from the color of their umbrella, a nod to Mr. Punch—the only bright spot on the sea.
But, that’s just me. Admittedly, I’m not right—in a host of ways.
I just think this is the perfect opportunity for a caption contest. You know how it works.
17 comments:
Red Umbrellas. When your date has no head.
Always handy.
Weekend at Bernie's, 1877.
Oddly enough, it featured the same cast.
The origin of the phrase 'No day at the beach.'
Ah, history.
They never saw the boat coming.
Only because they're both just an odd salad of legs.
What a sad, cold looking beach.
Aren't they all?
The set up was perfect. They just looked like any young couple enjoying a day at the beach.
But sweet Alice had a plan. She and Rocco would sink that ship. The strange new cargo would never reach the shore. The shipment of Spanx would be at the bottom of the sea.
Whale bone corsets would remain the body shaper of choice for years to come. Spanx would not be used for more than one hundred years.
Bo Peep would be proud of her.
Ha! So, because of Bo Peep, the world's female population had their organs mangled for the sake of beauty for longer than needed! I bet she had her hand in the whale bone industry. Those whales for paying her for protection they never got.
Brilliant!
SO FUNNY!
We always look forward to Darcy.
Cheap date.
So, I guess that googling "Joseph Crisalli Surfing" won't generate any pictures of you flailing around in the waves???
Caption:
Rollo used the opportunity to pull a horseshoe crab from Fanny's hair to his romantic advantage.
I wouldn't think so, no.
And...
Ha!
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