From Scary To Racist

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Post Rice Krinkles is one of those cereals that makes you wonder what exactly was going on in the advertising room.

It started as Sugar Rice Krinkles, a sweet puffed rice cereal, and Post first sold it with circus-style ads and Krinkles the Clown. Back then, clowns were still considered fun, friendly, and perfect for kids. Looking at him now, though, he has that unsettling “why is this staring at me during breakfast?” energy.

Then around 1960, Post replaced the clown with So-Hi, a small Asian boy character used to sell a rice cereal. The name was a play on “so high,” because he was short, but the character leaned hard into Asian stereotypes that would never fly today. It was the kind of lazy advertising shortcut that was common at the time: rice cereal, so they reached for an Asian caricature.

And no, this did not evolve into Snap, Crackle, and Pop. That was Kellogg’s Rice Krispies, a different cereal from a different company. Post Rice Krinkles was more connected to Post’s later rice cereal ideas, especially the road that eventually led toward Pebbles.

So it basically went from creepy clown to racial stereotype, all in the name of making cereal memorable to kids. And that’s the part that sticks out today. These mascots were meant to be cute and catchy, but looking back, they show how different, and often tone-deaf, advertising could be.

Rice Krinkles eventually faded away by the end of the 1960s, but the mascots are still remembered because they’re so bizarre. One scared kids by accident. The other should have made adults know better.

Stop the Pigeon!

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Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines was one of those cartoons built around one simple idea that somehow worked every time: stop the pigeon.

The show came from Hanna-Barbera in 1969 and brought back Dick Dastardly and Muttley from Wacky Races. This time, they were part of the Vulture Squadron, flying ridiculous contraptions and trying every week to catch Yankee Doodle Pigeon.

Of course, they never did.

The real star was Muttley. That wheezy little laugh was funnier than half the script, and his constant demand for medals made him even better. Dastardly would scheme, Muttley would snicker, the plane would fall apart, and the pigeon would fly away.

Looking back, most of us probably weren’t rooting for the pigeon. We were watching for Dastardly to lose his temper, Muttley to laugh, and that theme song to get stuck in our heads all over again.

Stop the pigeon, stop the pigeon!

Speed Racer: Our First Taste of Anime Before We Knew the Word

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Speed Racer was one of those cartoons that felt different the second it came on. The theme song hit, the Mach 5 took off, and suddenly we were watching cliffs, crashes, secret buttons, masked racers, gangsters, and more danger than most Saturday morning cartoons dared to show.

The show began in Japan as Mach GoGoGo in 1967 before becoming Speed Racer for American audiences. Most of us didn’t know we were watching anime back then. We just knew it didn’t feel like Bugs Bunny, Scooby-Doo, or the usual superhero cartoons.

Compared to American cartoons of the time, Speed Racer was faster, stranger, and more dramatic. There were revenge plots, family secrets, real danger, and Racer X lurking around like something out of a spy movie. The animation could be limited, but the style made up for it with speed lines, dramatic close-ups, wild crashes, and that nonstop rapid-fire dialogue.

And of course, there was the Mach 5. What kid didn’t want a car with buttons that could jump, saw through trees, go underwater, and somehow survive every impossible race?

Looking back, Speed Racer was a lot of kids’ first introduction to anime, even if we didn’t have that word yet. It was loud, weird, exciting, and unforgettable.

When Aftershave Came With Self-Defense Instructions

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Hai Karate was one of those aftershaves that sold the joke as much as the scent.

It launched in 1967 and the whole idea was that the stuff made a man so irresistible that women would practically attack him. That is why the package and commercials leaned into the gag that every man needed self-defense instructions after putting it on. The famous warning was: “Be careful how you use it.”

The commercials were pure 1960s and early 1970s male fantasy advertising. A regular guy splashes on Hai Karate, and suddenly a woman goes wild for him. He has to use goofy karate moves to fend her off. It was played for broad slapstick laughs, with the martial arts craze and the “irresistible aftershave” idea mashed together into one very memorable campaign.

The campaign came from the ad firm McCaffrey & McCall, and one of the people behind the marketing plan was George Newall, who later became famous as a co-creator and songwriter for Schoolhouse Rock!

Looking back, it feels like the granddaddy of those later body spray ads where one spritz supposedly turns you into a babe magnet. Back then, though, Hai Karate had the extra gimmick: not only would women chase you, but you might need to defend yourself afterward.

It was silly, sexist, over-the-top, and very much of its time. But that is exactly why people remember it. The bottle may have been aftershave, but the real product was the joke.

“Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya…”

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That line was everywhere. The ads promised you didn’t need much, just a small dab, and suddenly you’d look sharp, smooth, and “debonair.” The jingle was credited to Hanley M. Norins of the Young & Rubicam advertising agency.

Of course, the best part was the promise that “the gals’ll all pursue ya” and love running their fingers through your hair. That was peak old-school advertising: use the product, look handsome, and suddenly romance is chasing you down the street.

By the 1960s, the Beatles and the dry, natural hair look started making heavily slicked hair seem old-fashioned, so Brylcreem had to adjust its pitch. But for anyone who grew up hearing that jingle, “a little dab’ll do ya” is still one of those lines that instantly brings back a whole era of bathroom mirrors, combs, crew cuts, and Dad’s medicine cabinet.

Pop-Tarts were introduced by Kellogg’s in 1964

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Pop-Tarts were introduced by Kellogg’s in 1964.

They were first sold as a quick toaster pastry and originally came in four flavors: strawberry, blueberry, brown sugar cinnamon, and apple currant. The frosted versions came a few years later, after Kellogg’s figured out the icing could survive the toaster

You Can Trust Your Car…can you finish it?

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You Can Trust Your Car to the Man Who Wears the Star was one of those great old advertising lines that stuck in your head because it did exactly what a slogan was supposed to do: it made the brand feel safe, familiar, and dependable.

Texaco’s “star” was right there in the logo, and the “man who wears the star” was the service station attendant. Back then, gas stations were not just places where you pumped your own gas and left. An attendant might check your oil, clean your windshield, look at your tires, and give the car a quick once-over while you sat behind the wheel. The campaign sold Texaco as more than gasoline. It sold trust.

The slogan became closely tied to Texaco’s image during the full-service gas station era. The message was simple: pull into Texaco, look for the star, and you were in good hands. It fit perfectly with the time, when uniformed attendants and branded service stations were part of the American road trip experience.

The jingle is most commonly credited to Roy Eaton, a pioneering Black advertising composer who worked on major campaigns including Texaco and Chef Boyardee Beefaroni. One profile says Eaton created the Texaco jingle in 1962, and another notes it was recognized by Advertising Age as part of one of the top ad campaigns of the 20th century. As for who sang the original version, that part is less clear. The safest answer is that it was likely performed by commercial session singers over the years, with different versions used in different Texaco spots.

The line worked because it sounded almost like a jingle before you even heard the music. “You can trust your car to the man who wears the star” has that smooth, sing-song rhythm that made it easy to remember. Texaco also used another famous star-themed line, “Star of the American Road,” leaning heavily into the red star logo as a symbol of dependability.

Looking back, it is a reminder of when gas stations felt more personal. The “man who wears the star” was not just selling gas. He represented service, pride, and that old-school promise that somebody actually knew your car and cared whether you made it down the road.

Mahna Mahna

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Mahna Mahna is one of those nonsense songs that somehow parked itself in everyone’s brain forever.

Most of us remember it from The Muppets, with the shaggy little “Mahna Mahna” character singing the goofy lead while the two pink creatures, the Snowths, answer back. But the song actually started in a very different place. It was written by Italian composer Piero Umiliani for the 1968 Italian film Svezia, inferno e paradiso, released in English as Sweden: Heaven and Hell.

Then Jim Henson and company turned it into something completely different. The Muppets performed it on Sesame Street in 1969, then on The Ed Sullivan Show, and later it became one of the memorable sketches from the first episode of The Muppet Show in 1976.

The funny part is, the lyrics don’t mean anything. That’s the whole charm. It’s just a silly call-and-response tune, but once you hear it, good luck getting it out of your head. Like a lot of the best Muppet moments, it worked because it was simple, weird, and somehow hilarious without needing a real punchline.

Who had a Farrah Doll?

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The Farrah doll was part of full-blown Farrah Fawcett mania in the late 1970s, when her feathered hair, red swimsuit poster, and Charlie’s Angels fame were everywhere.

Mego released a Farrah Fawcett doll in 1977, right when she was one of the biggest TV and poster stars in America. The doll was about 12 inches tall, fully poseable, and came with Farrah’s famous long blonde hair. Some versions had outfits like a red top, denim shorts, white boots, and even accessories like a skateboard. The Smithsonian has a Farrah Fawcett doll with skateboards in its collection, describing it as a blonde doll dressed in a red shirt, blue denim shorts, and knee-high white boots.

There was also a Farrah’s Glamour Center toy made in 1977, showing how much her look was being sold as part of the fantasy. It wasn’t just “here’s a celebrity doll.” It was “here’s the hair, the style, the smile, and the whole Farrah look.”

What’s funny now is that the doll didn’t always capture Farrah perfectly. Like a lot of celebrity dolls from that era, it was close enough for kids and collectors to know who it was supposed to be, but not exactly museum-quality likeness. Still, that almost makes it more charming. Back then, if you had the Farrah doll, the poster, and maybe the haircut, you were officially living in 1977.

Farrah’s actual red swimsuit and related items were later donated to the Smithsonian, along with a 1977 Farrah Fawcett doll, which tells you how much that image and merchandising became part of pop culture history

You Can Take Salem Out of the Country But….

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Here’s another forgotten jingle to get stuck in your head: “You can take Salem out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of Salem.”

Salem cigarettes leaned heavily on that fresh, outdoorsy image, using country scenery, easygoing music, and a catchy slogan to make menthol smoking feel cool, clean, and almost wholesome. That was the magic of old cigarette advertising. They weren’t just selling cigarettes, they were selling a mood.

And like so many jingles from back then, once you remember it, it sticks. These commercials were polished little earworms, made to stay with you long after the TV was turned off.

That all changed when cigarette commercials were banned from radio and television starting January 2, 1971, after President Richard Nixon signed the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act. The ads disappeared, but some of those jingles never really left our heads.Here’s another forgotten jingle to get stuck in your head: “You can take Salem out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of Salem.”

Salem cigarettes leaned heavily on that fresh, outdoorsy image, using country scenery, easygoing music, and a catchy slogan to make menthol smoking feel cool, clean, and almost wholesome. That was the magic of old cigarette advertising. They weren’t just selling cigarettes, they were selling a mood.

And like so many jingles from back then, once you remember it, it sticks. These commercials were polished little earworms, made to stay with you long after the TV was turned off.

That all changed when cigarette commercials were banned from radio and television starting January 2, 1971, after President Richard Nixon signed the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act. The ads disappeared, but some of those jingles never really left our heads.

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