As a kid, I loved Popular Science Magazine. I found it laying around my dentist's office and poured through it, searching for pictures of radical cars, jets and tubular inventions. The kids still say tubular, right?
I always enjoyed the history of the publication, too. In the back of each issue, they'd feature entries from the time capsule: Some grainy photo or illustrations would depict a wacky invention from an issue older than most buildings in my home state. It absolutely captivated my imagination and kept me distracted while a beautiful dental hygienist scraped the Pringles from my teeth.
I remember an issue that featured The Internet on the cover: a stylized painting of glowing, raised tubes over a city that the Jetsons might call home absolutely FLOORED MY SHIT. The article was fucking boring, but for a while afterwards, I was under the impression that America had installed a giant monorail system that physically delivered cool t-shirts and Encyclopedia Brittanica all over the world. You might say I have a impressionable imagination. Now imagine my amazement when I discovered pornography. That's why I don't shake hands with adolescent boys.
This cool science blog ran this screen cap of two guys wearing asbestos tuxedos getting into articulated frames of fireworks, where they would eventually mock fight. Imagine being a kid in 1934 and seeing this shit go down: it must've been life-changing for some filthy, starving depression-era little dudes. One night little English Jimmy's rolling a hoop down a hill with a stick, the next they're watching two guys covered in exploding fireworks fake punch each other.
My favorite is the guy rigging up the fireworks: I imagine him as Smokey, the slightly deranged pyrotechnics rigger on loan from Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. The dapper vest and newsboy cap is just to set the stage actors at ease: In reality, he's as reckless as an acrobat on opium. Also, he probably smokes opium.
The Japanese Flourescent Light Bulb Fighters would totally fuck their shit up.