You Need A Laugh

You look morose. In fact, my friend, you look downright glum. You need a good belly laugh ... the kind that starts at your toes, ripples through your torso, and makes you throw your head back and alarm folks in adjoining cubicles.

What you need is a trip to the Institute of Official Cheer, (Motto: Where the past comes to life, so we can promptly beat it to death again) a wholly owned subsidiary of Lileks.com. A click on the television screen and you're transported to the main menu, from which you can access a wide variety of hilarious options. Start with a quick trip through the History of the Institute. Learn about becoming an Irony Inspector, and admire the stunning grandeur of the premises.

Those of you who've kept up with the Weird Chronicles will be tempted next to head directly into the Gallery of Regrettable Food, but wait! Would you dive into the prime rib before you've enjoyed the tasty appetizers? Well, maybe you would if the appetizers looked like some of the stuff in the Gallery, but that's not the point. Scroll down to the Permanent Collection of Impermanent Art. Here you'll find a tribute to the ad copy of yesteryear, complete with site god James Lileks' patented blend of mockery, irony, and sarcasm so sharp he has to wear welder's gloves to type.

For a truly surreal break, head into The Art of Art Frahm. Frahm was an advertising artist in the '50s, and appears to have had an inordinate fascination with the connection between celery and elastic failure. Intrigued? I apologize. It's well worth a look, though. As usual, Lileks' commentary is at times so funny that it's impossible to read more than a few sentences at a time.

Take a turn through the menagerie of discomfited canines presented in Dateline: Kennel, a collection of dog ads from the '40s, '50s and '60s.

Stop and consider adopting a cast-off advertising symbol in The Orphanage. From Bondex Betty to the Undead Lard-Can Man, you'll surely find herein a two-dimensional pitchman/creature for your own site. And if you don't, fake it. These creatures need your help!

OK, OK, you've been patient. I can see that hungry gleam in your eyes. You've controlled yourselves admirably, and now it's time to head into what is considered by many the crown jewel of the Institute, the Gallery of Regrettable Food. Here you can examine the decline and fall of western civilization as seen through the medium of Jell-O, experience the wonder of 10 p.m. cooking, and contemplate the unbearable sadness of vegetables.

Begun several years ago with the discovery of an old Durum Wheat Commission cookbook in his mother's hall closet, this collection of old recipes, food ads and other incidentals, combined with Lileks' commentary, will have your co-workers and family members sneaking up behind you with tranquilizer darts. This is just flat-out FUNNY, friends. If you can read more than two pages without breaking into guffaws loud enough to startle the cats, there may possibly be something wrong with your wiring.

Oh, and if the site's not enough, Lileks has given in to the lure of capitalism and done an entire book of Gallery offerings. I've just about read mine to pieces. You can buy the book through the site, if you've a mind to.

Read, surf, and enjoy! Thank me later.