Art Appreciation 101

When my old man was sitting back in his recliner, single malt scotch in one hand and White Owl Tiparillo in the other, he used to always talk about the good old days. I used to ignore him and sneak off with either the Sear's catalog or the latest "Modern Photography" magazine. Now that I'm middle-aged I can appreciate my Dad's fondess for the good old days. Men went to work, and women did everything else, usually in cocktail dresses.

Uncle Melon is taking a look back using art. Art as it represents women. We can't go too far back. That would require research and an actual appreciation of aesthetics. We'll go back 50 or so years to a genre we all can appreciate - broads in skirts. Here's a series of works that portrays the really good old days, when men were men, women were helpless, and elastic hadn't been invented.

In the good old days women stayed home and cleaned house. You should
see how she polished the door knobs!

Is it swollen? Damn straight it's swollen.
You don't need a nail honey, you need a proper screw.

Teacher! What nice juicy apples you have. I'm sorry about the frog, but I'm glad your desk is on top of a ventilation grate. In the good old days, teacher wore garters. Damn.

Women couldn't even close a suitcase themselves. Then again, why is she leaving? Probably cuz you're a big dumb jerk. Women might have changed, but men haven't.

They used to pressurize buses back then just so this would happen. The driver also had a button marked "Drop Panties." Lucky bastard.

She doesn't want to get the hem of her skirt wet, but she doesn't mind
if the crotch of my trousers does. Bitch.

Darling, fetch me a coconut, and try not to get splinters in your privates.

When you squeeze it like that you're bound to get some on your dress.
Those stains on her dress remind me of a song my old man used to sing in his recliner, maybe about once a month. The end went something like this:

Now the pub is the place where the lads are a meeting
When the moon's full and the girls are a bleeding
The Catholic, the Protestant even the Pagan
The pub is the place when your lady is raggin'
So drink of your pint boys and thank your shamrocks
That as men folk we don't have to bleed from our cocks
And that we can escape from the lady in red
And get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead

Hey, that's not my old man's song. It's by comic genius Stephen Lynch. Hmmm, ketchup or is it catsup? And will a Maxipad hold a family-size 32 oz. container?

Honey, you know that's NOT why I call you my little Hoover!

Even at work, the girls were in charge of keeping things nice and wet.

Women have always loved the garden. If only they trimmed bush better back then.

Women and sports. And garters. Sweetie - shuffle over here so I can score.

Aw, did you fall darling? Well, while you're on your knees...

Looks like a keeper!

That board looks a little stiff. I can't say I blame it.

Oops, looks like she put too much wax on that lane. She should focus
more on keeping the balls clean.

Ahoy there! Shall I toss you my line - "Let's make whoopee, dollface!"

What are you running from honey? Is he hung like a bull?

Cute pussy. And the kitten's nice too. Rim shot, please. Or a rim job. Your choice.

Scottie! Between you and this Warp Factor 7 wind I'll never get to the
train station for my rendevous with Captain Kirk.

Lady, have you been drinking out of the dirty place again?

Just another trip to the market. Next time buy a rubber band for those darn panties!

I think someone wants to get nailed. Keep wagging that tail
and you will, sweetie, you will.

Is that a Rhea checking out your rear, or is it just glad to see you?

Get ready love, the next arrow is the money shot.

Can I get a ticket for that ride?

If she's that cold, her bra must be made out of cast iron.

No men working, but men getting ready for an erection.

She's preparing to slow-cook a weiner.

Sadly, in the next painting she was burned to a crisp. But her cooch
tasted just like grilled salmon!

Do you need some more cream, my dear? Open wide.

Miss Weathers - file that under "B" for bend over, and get ready for some dick-tation.

Golly Gee officer, how am I supposed to "spread'em" like this?

Prithee! Yon savages aim to plow my virgin ground with their native arrows.
Give thanks to the Lord on this day!

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