For the past three years, I occasionally become intrigued by a collection of food and drink photos in what apparently was an old break room in my newspaper building’s basement. When I first asked about them, I didn’t get a straight answer about their origin. My response after that was something along the lines of, “Well, it was the ’80s. I guess we can be thankful it doesn’t look like The Max.”
I haven’t thought about that room in a while, since we haven’t had a new reporter in a while. Typically, I make them walk around that giant building with me during their first week, because parts of it are weird and creepy and they barely know who I am.
A couple hours ago, I got an email from someone in San Francisco who was doing a reverse image search of these bananas.
An identical print is in his office, and he also was intrigued. So he wanted to know what I knew about them.
Now I’m intrigued all over again, since my response was “Um … kitsch?”
I didn’t do a good job of cropping the color image. As I should have gone to bed 2½ hours ago, I really don’t care.