#ashtry

TODAY'S TRIBUTE to the ALMOST FORGOTTEN

There was a time, an innocent time, when all problems could be solved by something cheap from Ronco. Whether it was a fishing pole you could carry in your pocket, spray-on hair to flock your bald spot, a way to scramble eggs inside their shell, a machine to dry out food faster than your car dash, or a portable amplified microphone you could use to tell good-looking people that you’d be back to pick them up later —Ronco had it.

The most amazing invention showed up one year on holiday TV specials: the ad showed an attractive family laughing, playing games, and loving each other unconditionally while the patriarch of the house smoked his brains out. Behold: The Smokeless Ashtray! It as an easy sell for us—dad was the kind of smoker that kept one going in the ashtray and one in his mouth while lighting a third.

Christmas came, the wrapping paper flurries settled, and Dad opened his last gift: the Ronco Smokeless Ashtray, which glowed with the promise of a smoke-free future filled with laughter and traditional games. Dad set the ashtray in the center of the coffee table, ceremoniously lit a cigarette, and turned it on:

It sounded like an outdoor gas-powered generator for rides at the county fair. Our living room windows shattered and the smaller kids started sliding across the floor, caught in the powerful suction of The Smokeless Ashtray when Dad smashed it with my sister’s Bedazzler and we basked in blessed silence.

The ashtray has been in the attic ever since, next to a warped wooden wallet and the Presto-Burger with the busted handle.

Smokeless Ashtray: you are not forgotten.

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