Familial Woes

The exposure of my carriage class upbringing has been heralded by the arrival of Mother and Sister Jessamine. They arrived yesterday in Father’s outmoded 1899 Horsey Horseless - clad in gingham, cockleburs in their hair.


Before they arrived I wrote Mother a letter putting forth the edict that I will only go out in public with her while clad in my clever Uncle Sam disguise.


She replied that she “wept for 3 days strate, to think that [her] only son was embarised to be seen with his own muther.” (Spelling fallacies her’s, not mine.)

I replied that maybe if she and Father had finished the 3rd Grade they would have they would have had the good sense to realize that starting a pokeweed farm was a perfectly idiotic idea that would lead to nothing but a life of mortifying poverty.

Ah, but it’s good to see the family again.

Dispatches From the Advertising World

Today, I had a scruff-up with Mortimer Graves – the near-sighted, narrow-minded Director of Creativeness at Bakenhaster, Von Tillzin & Saatchi. He has soundly rejected my latest masterwork for the Boston Garter - claiming certain certain segments of the community, namely the Hun segment, may take offense to it. I have electronically affixed it here as I believe public opinion will bear me out:


As you can see, this is the work of a true American Patriot! A nephew of Uncle Sam whose Yankee Doodle heart beats the rhythm our National Anthem! Who fought in the trenches, nose-to-nose with the Kaiser!

But his rebuffment doesn’t surprise me. See, Mr. Graves didn’t fight in the Great War. He claims that “he was 57 years old in 1917” and that made him “too old for combat.” I say not “too old” – I say too cowardly! Too cowardly to fight for Lady Liberty and too cowardly to run the bald eagle-riding, Liberty Bell-ringing, apple pie-eating copy of a true American Patriot!

AUTHOR’S SPECIAL NOTE: I also suspect him of being a Bolshevist.

A Few Sweet-Scented Violets From France

Let’s come out clear here, I harbor no great love for the “Great” Gallic Republic. The French’s primary contributions to the world culture are its blurry paintings, pungent cheeses and cowardly composure in battle. A few weeks ago at the Lodge, I was confronted by their latest ignominy: the picture postcard.

Well, friends – I confess, much to my great shame, I have been under their spell ever since. After all, I am a virile, full-blooded man and not immune to the powers of a smoky gaze and a specious grin.

Being it is Friday, I thought I’d share a few of my favorite glimpses into the boudoirs of Gay Paree.

Huzzah To My Pneumatic Four Wheel Rolling Shoes!

Truly, Pneumatic Four Wheel Rolling Shoes are the greatest invention of the modern age! I can glide hither and thither as though my feet were ensconced in two glorious clouds.

Also, after setting fire to local German beerhalls - they help make for quick escapes.

The Irish cannot afford them either.

Opinions of an Advertising Man

Today marks an anniversary of sorts: I have now been working for six months in the advertising trade. Currently, I am an employee of the advertising consortium Bakenhaster, Von Tillzin & Saatchi (who is, I suspect - an Italian).

We create advertisements for a great variety of products - including liver pills, chewing sweets, sock garters and gyro-sheath desk sets.

As my professional station gives my opinion the weight of authority, I thought I might weigh in on various advertisements I come across in my daily journeys.


This newspaper campaign for the Iver Johnson’s Arms & Cycle Works has done incalculable good for the American public. Here, Iver Johnson Revolvers begs the question (and I paraphrase here) that in this danger-fraught age of ever-increasing Irish immigration, shouldn’t we arm our children as well?

I say resoundingly: “Yes.” Should some frothing Irishman skulk into your child’s bedchambers in an attempt to kidnap them and cook them into some sort of stew with potatoes and cabbage and low-grade whiskey – wouldn’t you like your dearest one to be carrying a firearm that “shoots straight and kills” instead of a “toy”?

Election Day

I don’t fancy myself much of a politico but I must say that Uncle Sam has a real live man in Warren G. Harding. He’s quick on the trigger, sound as a dollar, he’s got just the stuff to make our greatest President since Millard Fillmore.

I’m not here to alter your vote tomorrow – if you want to go for those Bolshevik-leaning libertines Cox and Roosevelt that’s your American birthright – but if you’re a true red, white and blue-blooded Yankee you’ll vote Republican in ’20.