There’s always been an element of danger when it comes to being cool. That’s why smoking looks cool, because it’s a tube of poison leaves on fire near your head. The danger can take the form of a certain cavalier attitude toward dangerous things, or looking a bit dangerous yourself, too. The latter seems to be the tack taken in this 1970 Pontiac Grand Prix brochure, though I think whoever painted this otherwise lovely painting maybe took the idea too far, and the Grand Prix driver doesn’t so much look like a cool guy with a bit of a sexy, dangerous streak, but more like a terrifying psychopath moments before his hands close around your neck and he gets erotically stimulated as he watches the life leech slowly out of your eyes.
Here’s the full painting from the brochure, for context:
My, that beak-like prow on that Pontiac sure is striking! And What a picturesque old building there! It looks European, with streets far, far too narrow for that barge of a car. And that pink-suited lady, looking coquettishly over her shoulder, she’s charming! But, I’ll admit, I’m worried about her, because of that guy putting on those gloves looks like he intends to do some harm. Real harm. I mean, look at him:
(Spit take) Yikes! What the hell is going on with that guy? What’s with his face? Are those lesions? He’s even dressed like a murderer. I don’t like this. I want to get out of here. Motherfucker looks like a genuine psychopath. How do I get out of here? Where’s the exit? Should you close the window? Click the logo to go back to the homepage? Please, do something, let’s just get the hell away from this monster, now, come on, let’s go now now NOW