11 Shameless Comic Book Ads That Cost Us Our Allowance

If today's Generation Y and Z-ers accuse us Baby Boomers of being cynical and distrustful, well, I for one blame it all on comic books. How many of us who grew up in the 1960s and early '70s were lured by those enticing ads promising everything from X-Ray vision to frolicking, crown-wearing sea monkey pets for a mere couple of bucks? It took (in my case) a best friend with a generous weekly allowance and two parents who worked outside of the home to open my young eyes to the sad fact that advertisements didn't always tell the truth.

1. X-Ray Specs

I supposed the "optical illusion" disclaimer should've been a tip-off, but hey, who paid attention to fine print when the prospect of seeing through unsuspecting people's clothes was at your nose tip? In reality, the Specs weren't particularly discreet; they were pieces of cardboard printed with red and white hypnotic spirals and the words "X-Ray Vision" where the lenses should have been. Did they work? Well, if you studied your hand long enough against a bright light it kinda sorta looked as if you were seeing a blurry X-ray image, thanks to a feather glued inside each of the cardboard "lenses."

2. Sea Monkeys


It's not surprising to learn that the man who patented X-Ray Specs, Harold von Braunhut, was the same entrepreneur who passed off brine shrimp as trainable pets. Those of us who parted with a hard-earned buck and a quarter learned not only that the "happiness" displayed in the bowlful was only observable through a magnifying glass, but also that the little creatures looked more like creepy flagellating bacteria than the Seuss-like cartoon characters featured in the ads.

3. Frontier Cabin


My friend (and co-conspirator in most of my mail-order mischief) Mary and I spent longer arguing over whose name should be on the free nameplate (she finally agreed with my logic that if they supplied a "Kara" tag it proved that these cabins really were made to order!) than we did playing with the stupid thing. Imagine our disappointment as we waited at her front door every day that summer when we heard the UPS truck rumbling down the street, only to have the mailman eventually hand us a padded 9"x14" manila envelope. Inside the package was a tightly folded vinyl sheet that had the design of a Frontier Cabin printed on it. It assumed cabin shape only after it was draped over a card table or some similar piece of furniture. And it was impossible to spend much time huddled inside the thing lest we became asphyxiated by the plastic-y vinyl fumes that clung to it.

4. Ventriloquist Device


For only a quarter you could annoy your teachers and confound your parents?! I couldn't slap that six-cent postage stamp on the envelope fast enough! The gadget I received in exchange for that hard-earned 31 cents was something professional ventriloquists call a "swazzle." It was basically a modified tiny kazoo that you could (after much practice to avoid gagging on or swallowing the thing) conceal in your mouth and make squeaky, whistling high-pitched noises. (Back in the days of Punch and Judy shows, the puppeteer who worked Mr. Punch used a swazzle to create the screechy incomprehensible vocalizations associated with the character.) Oh, and that tiny pamphlet that taught you "How to Become a Ventriloquist" did not mention the use of the swazzle at all, it simply gave hints on how to articulate words without moving your lips.

5. Charles Atlas Dynamic Tension

Since I never felt the need to have Mr. Universe-sized biceps, I never sent away for the Charles Atlas program, but many millions of other comic book readers did. Who doesn't remember the full-page ad featuring the humiliation of the 97 lb. weakling named Mac getting sand kicked in his face at the beach? Said scrawny lad eventually returns to the beach with a newly buff physique after subscribing to the Charles Atlas Dynamic Tension program of exercise. The advertisement was based on the allegedly true story of Charles Atlas, who'd claimed to have sand kicked in his scrawny face at Coney Island by a husky lifeguard. As is often the case, truth is more boring than fiction. In reality, Angelo Siciliano (Atlas' birth name) had always been a strong child, and when he and his divorced mom moved from Italy to Brooklyn, New York, he lifted weights to further improve his physique. As a teen, he got a job demonstrating a chest expander in a department store window. He went on to win a bodybuilding contest and attempted to start his own mail-order business. However, his strengths didn't extend to marketing savvy, so he struggled until he hooked up with advertising exec Charles Roman. Roman re-christened Siciliano "Charles Atlas" and came up with the backstory of the puny guy losing his girl to a more muscular specimen.

6. Kryptonite Rocks

For the low price of $2.50 you could earn Superman's eternal gratitude by purchasing these Kryptonite rocks and keeping them out of the hands of the Forces of Evil. Skeptics in the audience might posit that these were nothing more than regular rocks painted glow-in-the-dark green, but how would they prove it? After all, if Superman never showed up at your house, the Kryptonite was obviously doing its job, right?

7. Fake Facial Hair


Looking suave didn't come cheaply; at three bucks for either a Van Dyke or set of mutton chop sideburns, a happenin' dude with a limited income had to decide between "cool" or "distinguished." Luckily this paste-on facial fuzz came with a "complete guide" on how to properly wear your hair, lest some folks unclear on the concept glue a 'stache to their foreheads by mistake.

8. Free Miniature Monkey


Once in a while, there is some justice to be found in the world. The above ad (sometimes a miniature dog was offered instead of the monkey) was placed by a mail order photo finishing company in Iowa called Dean Studios. In order to win a miniature animal, you had to not only distribute 20 coupons for Dean's services, those 20 people also had to place a minimum order with the company. The Federal Trade Commission got involved in 1960 and discovered that the company not only had never awarded a prize, they didn't even have access to any of the tiny creatures. An official Cease and Desist Letter was eventually issued.

9. P.F. Flyers

P.F. Flyers were the Air Jordans of the 1960s. The brand advertised heavily in comic books and on TV and led many unsuspecting un-athletic kids to believe that all they needed to not be chosen last in gym class was a pair of expensive sneakers. Even though (for a limited time only!) the shoes came with a free Johnny Quest Magic Ring (equipped with a magnifying glass, secret compartment, and code flasher), they still probably weren't your best line of defense in the event of a bear attack.

10. Hypno-Coin


*Sigh* A whole buck for nothing more than a swirly pattern on a wiggle badge. That money back guarantee was also a sham, since you had to pay for the return postage (properly packaged and insured).

11. Polaris Submarine


Obviously, since this puppy cost a whopping seven dollars (compared to the 10 and 50 cent items advertised), it had to be on the level. Living very near Lake St. Clair, Mary and I had all sorts of plans for our sub when it arrived – "we can sneak across to Canada without paying the toll!" Alas, chalk up one more childhood dream dashed; the "nuclear sub" was made of cardboard (which was shipped flat in a box and required assembly). The torpedo and rocket launchers? Rubber bands. I still can't decide which hurt most – the submarine that was water-soluble, or the parents who tsked and lectured "Maybe you've learned your lesson this time..."
* * *
What about you? Did you ever sell Grit or order 200 plastic army men? Share your mail-order memories with the rest of us!

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Kars4Kids, YouTube
The Cruel (But Effective) Agony of the Kars4Kids Jingle
Kars4Kids, YouTube
Kars4Kids, YouTube

It can happen suddenly and without warning. Driving in your vehicle, a commercial break comes on. In addition to the standard pleas to use a specific laundry detergent or contemplate debt consolidation, the voice of a preadolescent, out-of-tune child materializes. Your grip on the steering wheel gets tighter. The child begins to warble:

1-877-Kars-4-Kids, K-A-R-S Kars for Kids, 1-EIGHT-SEVEN-SEVEN-Kars-4-Kids, Donate Your Car Today …

An adult breaks in to repeat the lyrics. The two begin to sing in unison:

1-877-Kars-4-Kids, K-A-R-S Kaaaaars for Kiiiids…Donate Your Car Today!

In roughly a minute, it’s over. You go on with your day. But the song’s repetitive melody sticks to your brain like sap. You hear it when preparing dinner. While brushing your teeth. As you put your head on the pillow. When it's finally worked its way out of your brain and you've started to forget, it reappears.

The song is engineered to be obnoxious. And its producers wouldn't have it any other way.

 
 

Since 1999, an untold number of Americans have found themselves reduced to mewling heaps of distress following exposure to the Kars4Kids jingle. The 501(c) nonprofit organization based in Lakewood, New Jersey, spends up to $17 million annually making sure this earwig of a commercial is played across the country. While the purpose is not expressly to annoy you, the fact that the song is irritating is what makes it memorable. And successful. And more than a little controversial.

Kars4Kids began in 1995 as a way to capitalize on the trend of automotive owners donating their unwanted cars in exchange for a tax deduction. Owners who donate their vehicles are able to get an IRS write-off—though typically for only a percentage of the current value—if they declare it a charitable donation. Kars4Kids arranges for the vehicle to be towed away and sold at auction, with proceeds going to afterschool and summer programs for students.

According to the organization, business was slow until one of their volunteers had an idea to craft a commercial song. The melody was purchased from a singer and songwriter named Country Yossi, and Kars4Kids enlisted a child to perform it at an in-house recording session. It debuted in the New York market in 1999, and spread like the plague to the West Coast by 2005 and nationally by 2007.

Aside from Yossi, however, the company has repeatedly declined to identify anyone else involved with creating the song. The reason? Death threats. The tune has apparently enraged people to the point of contemplating murder. Speaking to SanFranciscoGate.com in 2016, music cognition expert Elizabeth Hellmuth Margulis said that the combination of repetitive structure and the overly simplistic message was engineered to grate the listener's nerves.

“This simple melodic line is also probably responsible for some of the annoyance,” she said. “These kinds of three and four note lines are often the ones specially crafted for kids learning how to play instruments ... It probably conjures up associations of painful practice sessions.”

 
 

The line between irritating and memorable is often blurry. Kars4Kids has repeatedly pointed to the song as being effective in driving telephone traffic to their number. When they debuted a television commercial in 2014—complete with lip-syncing kids who subsequently got bullied for their participation in the spot—donations went up by 50 percent. To date, the company has received 450,000 cars. In 2017, contributions totaled $39 million.

Surprisingly, people have reserved animosity for something other than the commercial. In 2017, Minnesota's attorney general chastised Kars4Kids for not making it clear to donors that many of the children who benefit from the fundraising are located in the northeast: Kids in Minnesota received just $12,000 of the $3 million raised in that state. Other times, the organization has been criticized for leaving information out of their solicitations. In 2009, both Pennsylvania and Oregon fined the charity for failing to disclose a religious affiliation. (Most of the funds raised go toward Orthodox Jewish groups.) Oregon’s Department of Justice said that Kars4Kids needed to disclose such information in its ads.

Those speed bumps aside, the jingle shows no signs of leaving the airwaves any time soon. Rather than run from the negative response, Kars4Kids marinates in it, sharing hateful diatribes from others on social media.

“Newer people join the [media] team and when they are first exposed to the level of hatred on Twitter they'll be like, 'Are you sure you think this is a good idea that we should keep on playing this?,'" Wendy Kirwan, Kars4Kids’s director of public relations, told Billboard in 2016. “And we've looked at that time and again, and we've come to the conclusion that it's definitely worth sticking with.”

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Rebecca O'Connell (Getty Images) (iStock)
How Frozen Peas Made Orson Welles Lose It
Rebecca O'Connell (Getty Images) (iStock)
Rebecca O'Connell (Getty Images) (iStock)

Orson Welles would have turned 103 years old today. While the talented actor/director/writer leaves behind a staggering body of work—including Citizen Kane, long regarded as the best film of all time—the YouTube generation may know him best for what happened when a couple of voiceover directors decided to challenge him while recording an ad for Findus frozen foods in 1970.

The tempestuous Welles is having none of it. You’d do yourself a favor to listen to the whole thing, but here are some choice excerpts.

After he was asked for one more take from the audio engineer:

"Look, I’m not used to having more than one person in there. One more word out of you and you go! Is that clear? I take directions from one person, under protest … Who the hell are you, anyway?"

After it was explained to him that the second take was requested because of a “slight gonk”:

"What is a 'gonk'? Do you mind telling me what that is?"

After the director asks him to emphasize the “in” while saying “In July”:

"Why? That doesn't make any sense. Sorry. There's no known way of saying an English sentence in which you begin a sentence with 'in' and emphasize it. … That's just stupid. 'In July?' I'd love to know how you emphasize 'in' in 'in July.' Impossible! Meaningless!"

When the session moved from frozen peas to ads for fish fingers and beef burgers, the now-sheepish directors attempt to stammer out some instructions. Welles's reply:

"You are such pests! ... In your depths of your ignorance, what is it you want?"

Why would the legendary director agree to shill for a frozen food company in the first place? According to author Josh Karp, whose book Orson Welles’s Last Movie chronicles the director’s odyssey to make a “comeback” film in the 1970s, Welles acknowledged the ad spots were mercenary in nature: He could demand upwards of $15,000 a day for sessions, which he could use, in part, to fund his feature projects.

“Why he dressed down the man, I can't say for sure,” Karp says. “But I know that he was a perfectionist and didn't suffer fools, in some cases to the extreme. He used to take a great interest in the ads he made, even when they weren't of his creation.”

The Findus session was leaked decades ago, popping up on radio and in private collections before hitting YouTube. Voiceover actor Maurice LaMarche, who voiced the erudite Brain in Pinky and the Brain, based the character on Welles and would recite his rant whenever he got the chance.

Welles died in 1985 at the age of 70 from a heart attack, his last film unfinished. While some saw the pea endorsement as beneath his formidable talents, he was actually ahead of the curve: By the 1980s, many A-list stars were supplementing their income with advertising or voiceover work.

“He was a brilliant, funny guy,” Karp says. “There's a good chance he'd think the pea commercial was hilarious.” If not, he’d obviously have no problem saying as much.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER
More from mental floss studios