We offer here my talk on school lunches, from “Through the Blackboard.”  It’s stored on another page, so as not to clog the home page.  Happy reading!

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

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“Sky Trails,” a 1951 miniature game from Russell, was a bit more complicated than most.  There are two kinds of cards, Map Cards and Route Cards.  The Map Cards can be laid end to end to show the route from San Francisco to Shanghai; the Route Cards show the destinations along the way.  The objective is to collect all of the Map Cards and three consecutive Route Cards.  I’ve selected Shannon, Ireland: land o’ hoein’.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

Since everyone’s talking money and politics these days, I thought it reasonably acceptable to make a contribution to the conversation in this forum.

I think the idea of ullage can be a tool. As (or if) you find yourself ever more embroiled in the struggle mentioned above, you might also find that it comes in handy. The next time you think you need a little help defining some alternative conditions that could govern your life, consider the ullage.

The social, economic, and political upheaval of the moment presents a timely opportunity to ask yourself how might the “other part” – however you may define that – help you recognize what you truly value, what you love, how you work, how you spend your time, and with whom you spend it. Seems pretty simple, but sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the simple things, especially when it comes to self-governance. Just achieving and maintaining self-governance is hard enough these days. In this sense, and at this particular time, in this particular culture, (I hate to say it) the personal is always political.

US Government promotes creativity in a time of crisis and despair, WPA poster circa 1936

So, rooting around in the ullage might yield some forgotten (or supposedly obsolete) possibilities when it comes to all this. And maybe they will prove obsolete, or futile, or not up your alley. But you’ll never know unless you try. And thus, the ullage is always political.

For another and far less abstract take on this, read on…

(posted by Lisa Hirschfield) [Read more →]

We check in again with our friend, the Old Maid, and find her taking in a local circus.  This 1959 edition from Ed-U-Cards has a distinctly cartoonish touch; perhaps an animator was moonlighting.  And here, as is customary, is the Old Maid herself.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

We welcome you to “Through the Blackboard,” the Ullage Group’s third cornucopia of oddball stuff — this time devoted to the theme of education.

“Ullage” is a winemakers’ term; it means both the air at the top of the bottle, and the sediment at the bottom.  It’s sometines defined as “deficiency,” or “lack”; in the UK, it can mean “rubbish”; it comes from the French word “oeillage,” meaning “bunghole.”  It’s a word of many beauties, and seems a fitting emblem for those topics that are marginal, contrarian, or obsolete — which is what we’re after here.

We’ve had some complaints about it.  Some people whine that they can’t spell or pronounce it — I’ve heard “you-lage” more than once — and that it’s obscure.  I can only point out that if you can’t handle a simple six-letter word that’s been in the dictionary long before you graced the earth with your presence, then you need to go back to school, fool.  And if learning a new word upsets you so, maybe you’d better just stay at home, play with your toes, and not mix with the grown-ups.

The idea of obscurity is an odd one.  Many people seem convinced that anything they’re not familiar with is hopelessly obscure.  It never occurs to them that there may be another explanation.  One of my fellow cizens accused me of limiting my audience by making deliberately obscure references in an article I wrote.  You see, I had mentioned Nostradamus.  But let me unravel this mystery in verse:

Maureen flies in a rage when Joe
Refers to things she doesn’t know.
For she’s convinced it isn’t right
To be obscure; it’s impolite.
And things she doesn’t know, she’s sure,
Are quite obscure.

Perhaps, though, society’s values are shifting.  For the past few years, anti-intellectualism has run amok, and it hasn’t served us well.  An institutionalized contempt for education, for rational argument, for nuanced thought, has been a flop.  Stupid ideas don’t work.

Building a society on greed and exploitation makes us unhappy.  Huh.

Investing billions in pyramid schemes leads to financial collapse.  Oops.

Stressing religion over science creates a generation of uninformed zealots.  Wow.

Spending twenty hours a day staring at a computer screen erodes social skills.  Golly.

Obviously, things took a funny turn somewhere in those classrooms we spent so many days in way back when.  So, this afternoon, we’ll look into some of the dark corners of the history of education, and of schools.  We probably won’t solve anything.  But it’s a rainy Sunday, and there’s caffeine and alcohol on hand to stimulate the brain.

Speaking of which, it’s time for that sacred ceremony, the opening of the ullage.  We open a bottle, thereby considerably enlarging the ullage, and pour out a swig for our cup-bearers, Geoff and Lynette.  This time we’ve picked that favorite student beverage, beer.  And then: through the blackboard!

(Posted by Doug Skinner)  

A smallish and ullagistic crowd showed up on a rainy afternoon for “Through the Blackboard,” our third public outing.  We started late (there were screens and projectors to wrangle), but after that, all unfolded smoothly.

After a few introductory remarks, Doug opened up the ullage: this time, a Belgian Trappist ale, which was presented to Geoff and Lynette, our hosts at Jalopy.

Doug then performed two of his cranky songs, “Get on the Grid” and “Alphabet,” both, arguably, educational.

Lisa followed with a talk on children’s games and songs; Doug with a talk on school lunch programs in the 1920s; and Lisa with a talk on fraternal and occult societies.  After that, Doug demonstrated a dubious science toy from his youth, by showing moiré patterns on the overhead projector.

During the intermission, the audience was invited to squint through stereoscopes at vintage instructional images selected by Anthony.  Doug also circulated with a Flash-X: a 1969 classroom gizmo that shows simple line drawings at 1/25 of a second.

After intermission, Anthony and guest presenter Mark Newgarden screened two old classroom films, “Emotional Maturity” and “The Thunderbolt Hunters.”  Then we packed up and left to blow the take on dinner, another Ullage Group event fading swiftly into time’s chalk dust.  But there will be others.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

This example of that old favorite, Animal Rummy, comes from an undated deck from the Warren Paper Products Co.  And a fresh, clean design it is, too.  Good work, anonymous artisan!

 (Posted by Doug Skinner)

In observance of those solemn back-to-school days, the Ullage Group is pleased to invite you to its third fiesta-fiasco of oddities.  Come step “Through the Blackboard” for a Sunday afternoon of unadulterated educational pleasure.

Lisa Hirschfield, Anthony Matt, and Doug Skinner will show and tell about oral traditions of the classroom and schoolyard, antique stereoscopic edutainment, the secret world of occult youth groups, the evolution of the school lunch, and much more.  There will be moiré patterns on the overhead projector, autoharp songs, and a chance to test yourself on a 1969 Flash-X from Educational Developmental Laboratories.  And unlike real school, you don’t have to hide your beer.

It’s all only $5; it’s at 3 pm on Sunday, September 28; and it’s at Brooklyn’s lovely Jalopy Theater.  Directions can be found here.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

Yes, it’s an election year; and no, I won’t add to the punditry.  It’s not that I have nothing to say on the subject, but this site is devoted to the other part, and that’s what I’ll stick to.

I would like to mention, however, that religion is playing an ever larger part in US politics.  It was once taboo for politicos to spout theology; now millionaires squabble openly over who’s more Christlike.  It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a secular citizen to enter the White House.

It may have started in 1980, when the GOP really went after evangelicals.  The winning candidate was seen by some as the Antichrist (for Ronald Wilson Reagan = 666), and by others as the Messiah (I forget why).

But elsewhere, a slight, white-clad figure crossed America that year, forging a more direct link between church and state.  She was Vivenus; and she came here from Venus to spread the message that “It’s not odd to vote for God.”

Vivenus arrived on Earth at 10 pm, on September 24, 1960.  A flying saucer (or “swoop,” as they call them on her home planet) let her out in Central Park; and she replaced an Earth woman, Viv, who had grown suicidal over her failed singing career.

Or so she said; perhaps you can guess at a likelier, and sadder, back story.  At any rate, she became a regular guest on radio talk shows and UFO conventions.  And, between 1974 and 1981, she walked 17,756 miles, through 290 cities, to “enlighten this planet with love.”

She received some press coverage in 1980 for her religious campaign: “It’s God for President!  So go become a resident!  Write him in and we can win!  And come election day we’ll say, ‘Oh, it’s not odd to vote for God.'”  I quote these lyrics from a press cutting (“Oakland Tribune,” 7/13/80).  She distributed this song on tape; I’d love to hear it, if any of you have a copy.

Vivenus disappeared sometime in the ’90s.  NYC composer, Alan White, who knew her, has written a musical about her.  She is not forgotten.

I’ve scoured the web, and found few images.  So here, for her fans, are some press photos taken from her 1982 book Vivenus: Starchild.  You can click on them to see them larger.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

It’s Friday; it’s time to relax after that taxing week.  Ullage your beverage, and cast your connoisseur’s eye on another specimen of that most overlooked field of graphic design, the kiddie card.

We have another “Old Maid” deck, this time a 1935 “Big-Little Card Game” from Russell.  The pairs in this version, are, curiously, a mix of alliterative children (Hasty Horace, Sally Scrub) and Mother Goose characters (Old King Cole, Miss Muffett).  I’ve chosen Dan Daub — no doubt an idealized self-portrait of the unknown artist.

And here’s the Old Maid as well. 

(Posted by Doug Skinner)