Well, I was looking at "Who's On Line", and some bot was checking you out. Since I have the book, I thought (I am not a bot) that I could show my unbotness this way. Ever since I read read George Ade's Fables in Slang, I've ofTen used upper case for emphasis. I'm sorry if I scared you. It's a pretty good book, as fly-over people say. Pretty good enough to clutch and fold corners. Disclosure: book pagination is a current interest of mine (verso, recto, left blank, and so on).
Humor frequently doesn't age well, and this is over a century old.
George Ade's THE FABLE OF THE BOHEMIAN WHO HAD HARD LUCK
Once upon a Time there was a Brilliant but Unappreciated Chap who was such a
Thorough Bohemian that Strangers usually mistook him for a Tramp.
Would he brush his Clothes? Not he. When he wore a Collar he was Ashamed of
himself. He had Pipe-Ashes on his Coat and Vest. He seldom Combed his Hair,
and never Shaved.
Every Evening he ate an Imitation Dinner, at a forty-cent Table d'Hôte, with a
Bottle of Writing Fluid thrown in. He had formed a little Salon of Geniuses, who
also were out of Work, and they loved to Loll around on their Shoulder-Blades and
Laugh Bitterly at the World.
The main Bohemian was an Author. After being Turned Down by numerous
Publishers, he had decided to write for Posterity. Posterity hadn't heard anything
about it, and couldn't get out an Injunction.
He knew his Works were good, because all the Free and Untrammeled Souls in the
Spaghetti Joint told him so. He would read them a Little Thing of his Own about
Wandering in the Fields with Lesbia, and then he would turn to a Friend, whose
Face was all covered with Human Ivy, and ask him, point blank: "Is it, or is it not,
Better than the Dooley Stuff?"
"There is no Comparison," would be the Reply, coming through the Foliage.
Wandering in the Fields with Lesbia! Lesbia would have done Well. If he had
Wandered in the Fields at any Time he would have been Pinched on Suspicion that
he was out for Turnips.
The sure-enough Bohemian was a Scathing Critic. If Brander Matthews only knew
some of the Things said about him, there would be Tear Marks on his Pillow. And
Howells, too. Bah! My, but he was Caustic.
The way he burned up Magazine Writers, it's a Wonder they didn't get after him for
Arson.
One day, while standing on the Front Stoop at his Boarding House, trying to think
of some one who would submit to a Touch, a Flower Pot fell from a Window
Ledge above him, and hit him on the Head. He was put into an Ambulance and
taken to a Hospital, where the Surgeons clipped his Hair short, in order to take
Three Stitches. While he was still Unconscious, and therefore unable to Resist,
they Scrubbed him with Castile Soap, gave him a good Shave, and put him into a
snowy-white Gown.
His Friends heard of the Accident, and went to the Hospital to offer Condolence.
When they found him he was so Clean and Commonplace that they lost all Respect
for him.
Moral: Get a good Make-Up and the Part plays itself.
Last edited by Allen Tice; 03-07-2021 at 04:57 PM.
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