I wouldn't mind seeing Nick take a "Mary Worth" stab at these ads...
Boys' Life advertisers of the 50's had a couple of suggestions for readers dealing with a wild cat attack.
The first, brought to you by the good folks at Buster Brown Shoes, was a two-stage method:
Step 1: Put down the kittens!
Step 2: Go jump in the lake!
This method should work if the wild cat is relatively small (but could still give you a nasty scratch on the leg). Apparently these diminutive feral felines are not that different from your next door neighbour, Mrs. Hassenpfeffer's pampered cat, Julius. Even a really pissed off mama wildcat would rather go hungry than get her dainty paws damp.
(Call me cynical but I think this method may have been motivated out of self-interest. Those soaking wet Buster Browns are almost certainly going to be ruined, requiring expensive replacements and increased sales for the smiling fellow in frame six.)
However, "Doc" Peters (and by the way, I have doubts about his status as an actual physician) had a rather more abbreviated prescription for dealing with a bobcat: Blast him with both barrels.
Gun enthusiasts who occassion this blog may be surprised to hear that I'm with the Doc. I do a fair amount of hiking in remote wooded areas and have seen my share of chewed up deer carcasses. Quite frankly, there's been the odd time when I wished I had a little firepower handy - just in case.
Ideally, it would be one of those portable Gatling guns with the shoulder strap like the one Jesse "The Body" Ventura used in the first Predator movie, complete with a giant bandoleer of really big bullets!
That way I could just hose down the entire area at the first snap of a twig - you know, essentially clearcutting that section of the forest and vaporizing any potential threat. What's that you say? It was just old Mrs. Hassenpfeffer bringing me a thermos of warm soup? Oh. Nevermind.
Boys' Life advertisers of the 50's had a couple of suggestions for readers dealing with a wild cat attack.
The first, brought to you by the good folks at Buster Brown Shoes, was a two-stage method:
Step 1: Put down the kittens!
Step 2: Go jump in the lake!
This method should work if the wild cat is relatively small (but could still give you a nasty scratch on the leg). Apparently these diminutive feral felines are not that different from your next door neighbour, Mrs. Hassenpfeffer's pampered cat, Julius. Even a really pissed off mama wildcat would rather go hungry than get her dainty paws damp.
(Call me cynical but I think this method may have been motivated out of self-interest. Those soaking wet Buster Browns are almost certainly going to be ruined, requiring expensive replacements and increased sales for the smiling fellow in frame six.)
However, "Doc" Peters (and by the way, I have doubts about his status as an actual physician) had a rather more abbreviated prescription for dealing with a bobcat: Blast him with both barrels.
Gun enthusiasts who occassion this blog may be surprised to hear that I'm with the Doc. I do a fair amount of hiking in remote wooded areas and have seen my share of chewed up deer carcasses. Quite frankly, there's been the odd time when I wished I had a little firepower handy - just in case.
Ideally, it would be one of those portable Gatling guns with the shoulder strap like the one Jesse "The Body" Ventura used in the first Predator movie, complete with a giant bandoleer of really big bullets!
That way I could just hose down the entire area at the first snap of a twig - you know, essentially clearcutting that section of the forest and vaporizing any potential threat. What's that you say? It was just old Mrs. Hassenpfeffer bringing me a thermos of warm soup? Oh. Nevermind.
