JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

Yes, our friend the darling pet monkey is back. A year-and-a-half after hanging out with Dr. Strange and Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD, here he is in a "confessional" magazine. Maybe the monkey was edging towards more adult concerns - supporting cancer research, removing unwanted hair, etc. Note price and clothing remain the same, leading to one funky (smelling) pet. Like the monkey, Blair was also a frequent comic book advertiser well into the 70s, with "Tim Newcomer" as their usual saleskid. Alas, no further information on them. Permagon was only one of a wide variety of oddball products Honor House sold in magazines. If you didn't want a hair zapper, how about a personal nuclear sub ? Also, note how the object the scantily-clad model is holding in the closeup looks like a grease/mark-up pencil. Could be they lost the zapper for the shot and had to borrow the closest substitute from the paste-up artist nearby. It is also possible that she is wearing one of t...

A fine array of products available to Marvel Comics readers in 1967. Things were going well for Merry Marvel that year: sales were rising and Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four debuted on Saturday morning TV. Multiple-advertiser pages such as these remained a staple until the early 80s. Compared to National/DC, who carried ads from reputable companies like Tootsie Roll, Marvel's resembled a flea market, the junior version of similar layouts from their men's magazine line. Isn't that pet monkey adorable? Who wouldn't want a shirt-wearing, lollipop-munching primate around the house? We're not going to ask if owners had any other uses for the cage and leather goods included with the monkey. Note emphasis on "young" monkey - we'll never know if older monkeys in the stable sued on the grounds of age discrimination. Note Orwellian name of the advertiser. This little monkey got around, as we'll see in a future vintage ad... Based on Perfect Voice...

Decided to sift through the back reaches of my rarely-used Hotmail account (aka Spam 'R Us). Found this note, received way, way back in September of 1995, the oldest e-mail I have kicking about. We're talking the dawn of my second year at U of G. It's juvenile and gut-busting at the same time: I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents apiece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys. I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing. I hearded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectac...