Happy Independence Day! Or for non-Statesian readers, happy Wednesday, have some of our fine local schlock.
It’s not widely known that Norman Rockwell had an interest in the strange and paranormal. In fact, much of the small town retro-40s inspiration came from the realms beyond, in his most productive period from 1988-1991 he rarely left his small Orlando apartment except to go across the street to consult with his spiritualist.
As proof, we present his haunting work, No Swimming (Or the Spectral Dead will Get You).
The poor dog. You can see the terror in his eyes as he tries, and fails, to outrun the weird phantom limbs around him. His eyes bulge with fright, he’s probably wet himself with fear, though in all fairness, he’s a terrier, he would have done that if you’d offered him a potato chip.
Run, little dog, run! This is what happens when you swim!
This may be one of the worst cases of “it broke, let’s donate it” that I’ve seen at Goodwill. How the original owner managed to wipe out every single figure except the dog, I don’t know. It’s like that scene in Indiana Jones, “The penitent dog kneels before God” – only Old Man Warner REALLY didn’t like swimmers. Or warning signs. “No swimming or steel blades will cut you down to a height of just under 1’3″. Run, you little bastards, RUN!”
Oh, hey, that stump must have been the warning sign. Old Man Warner’s really a jerk.
Goodwill on 183 and Metric, Austin