Forget Prince Albert

Maybe a few of you are old enough to remember the old telephone gag where some wag would call up a tobacco shop and ask “Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” (Prince Albert was a popular brand of pipe tobacco; my father smoked it.) Upon an affirmative answer, the caller would shout “Well, let him out, he’s suffocating!” and hang up. Hardy har har.

Well, this is the 21st century. Forget Prince Albert, the new question is “Do you have beaver in a can?”

I don’t have an actual joke for this. But, think of the convenience!

Image is from an actual advertisement for an actual product.

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Shear Aesthetics

There is a town in northern Alberta called Beaverlodge. (Schoolboys prone to sniggering may note that it’s not so very far from the towns of Tumbler Ridge and Sexsmith.) It’s a welcoming sort of place:

And let’s imagine that while you are just happening to pass through Beaverlodge on some fine and random snowy April day you discover yourself to be suffering from a hair and aesthetics crisis. Where should you go? Discerning travelers will immediately recognize that there’s really only one solid choice:

It’s always the unexpected that makes travel so delightful!

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The Lost Past

And speaking, as I just was, of how things were done before the invention of the internet:

THIS is how they used to take a photograph of a pussy:

I’m not saying it was better, exactly. I’m not one of those living-in-the-past “in my day, sonny” people, oh no. Far be it from me to denigrate the dramatic progress of the pornographic arts and sciences.

But it sure was different.

Sonny, you know what they used to call a picture like that? “Split beaver”, I shit you not. I don’t miss that one little bit. Pornographic rodent metaphors, happily, are as dead as 8-track players.