John Joseph Houghtaling, the inventor of the "magic fingers" vibrating bed, checked into the mahogany Hilton last week. He was 92.
Who knows how many bad backs were granted 15 minutes of tingling relaxation and ease for just a quarter, or how many marriages were saved for fifty cents? Hell, Jimmy Buffett even sang a song about it. Magic Fingers was rousing success in its heyday of the 1960s and 70s. There were roughly 175 franchise dealers across the USA, and the gadgets each brought in about $6000 to $7000 a month...in quarters. Not bad.
You don't find magic fingers in hotels and motels very often these days and it's a shame. Of course, based on the escalation of hotel rates, fifteen minutes would probably require you to visit the mortgage loan department before receiving your tingling and ease.
In other news...
The Hare Krishnas living in New Vrindaban, West Virginia are looking for some help. It seems that the cattle sanctuary they created four decades ago needs your support. The Krishnas, not big believers in eating cows, would like you to adopt a cow. For $51 smackers you can feed bossie for a month, AND for just $108 you would be providing "special care for retired cows who can no longer breed of give milk".
WOW! Fetch my wallet! This is like our Social Security system-- only better.
I really would like to help. Here is another million dollar idea that I'm willing to throw out FREE OF CHARGE:
My family still has a small farm in central Illinois. My brother and I would be more than pleased to provide pasture for retired Bovine Americans for...hmmmm, let's say a more than reasonable fee. (Hey, we're givers! We can't help ourselves.) In fact, I'm thinking that maybe we can cut a deal with the Magic Fingers company, now that business isn't what it used to be. We could bury some of those vibrating machines beneath our pasture and massage those big beautiful four legged bags of methane into a cow coma. In the interest of "keeping it Krishna", we would only charge the cattle the original 25 cent rate for fifteen minutes of jiggle.
Just think of the miles of smiles at the Old Copper Corral!
Let's meat, (oops), meet at Ruth's Chris.
Bring your checkbook.