Baltimore Evening Sun (13 April 1912): 6.
Heave “osseocaputs” into the discard. “Frailheads,” invented by no less a person than the Hon. the super-Mahon Himself, is a million times as lovely.
A frail-head may be as hard as porphyry, but it is still soluble in tears.
It would be a good joke if Bill Broening was to go to work an’ try them stuffers anyhow. But Bill ain’t no kidder.
In today’s Letter Column you will find a polite note from the Hon. W. C. Willilams, advertising agent of the local Christian Scientists. By this it appears that Christian Scientists “do not combat disease,” but merely “eliminate it,” and also that “they do not make diagnoses.” Let me now part from the Hon. Mr. Williams with thanks for his courteous and painstaking enlightenment and regret that I am too dense to profit by it. If, as he assures me, there is an essential difference between “combatting” a disease and “eliminating” it, then I confess freely that I am the most stupid and frail-headed ignoramus in all Christendom, for I am entirely unable to perceive it. And if it be true that Christian Scientists “do not make diagnoses,” then I must apologize to the Hon. Mr. Williams for studying and quoting a bogus and libelous edition of “Science and Health,” for in the appendix of the copy I keep in my studio at least 40 indubitable diagnoses are reported—of cancer, tuberculosis, rheumatism and colic—and in each case the proceedings against the disease are described eloquently as an undoubted combat, with the victory perching invariably upon the banner of the healer. Hitherto I have doubted only the victory. Now I repudiate and incinerate the whole book.
For Mayor of Baltimore in 1915, subject to the Democratic primaries:
The Hon. JACOB W. HOOK, colonel, M. N. G., ret.
And if the Corrupt Practices act forbids the unlimited distribution of cigars and green lead pencils, then the Corrupt Practices act be blowed!
It don’t hardly seem scarcely possible that nobody could ever be as innocent as what Sol Warfield looks.
Far be it from me, a bitter foe to the Rum Devil, to chide the Hon. Murray Vandiver for abandoning the opening of wine, but certainly he might have issued an advance notice and so saved the bock beer supply of the Rennert, not to mention the free lunch, from a devastating raid.
Meanwhile it is agreeable to note that the Hot Towel begins to heat up again.
Get ready with mops and sponges! Put on your oil-skins! Spread the linoleum! Again that gurgling geyser of tears! Again that heartbreaking tale of newspaper persecution! Again that damp martyrdom!
The Recall of Judges—the Dr. Bye’s Cancer Cure of politics.
Boil your drinking water! Cover your garbage can! Swat the fly! Make your will!
The Hon. McCay McCoy is now putting in 10 hours a day on his nominating speech. As soon as it is finished it will be submitted to the Hon. Bob Lee, who will mark in the [Applause] and [Cheers] and train the boys. The Hon. Jacobus Hook has been cast for the role of First Citizen.
Thirteen cheap but clean cigarros to good old McMains for any evidence, etc., etc., etc.
Away with that Delaware rabble-rouser! Is the campaign to be vansickled at the start! Have we no genius at home?
The city water is worse this year than last year—and costs more. Laugh, suckers, laugh!
LEST WE FORGET
|Deaths from typhoid in Year||Baltimore||Probable Cases||actual No. of Cases|
The betting odds in the downtown vodka shops as my spies bring them in:
1,000 to 1 that Harry gets at least one vote in the convention—if he keeps his health. 1 to 1,000 that he gets two.
So far, however, there is no announcement that Young Anderson thinks of challenging Hon. Bob Crain to a return bout.
Perhaps we wouldn’t notice the Back basin so much if the City Council met all summer.
The pages of the City Council work 120 days a year, and every day they work it is for two hours, and every time they work two hours they get $5.83 or $2.91 an hour. Laugh, suckers, laugh!
It don’t cost nothing for the grand jury to indict a man, and it don’t do the man no harm.
Strophes to be intoned by the Hou. McCay McCoy in the course of his great speech of nomination, now in process of composition:
He is the life that quickens, He is the light that lures, He is the ill that sickens, And he is the pill that cures.
He is the bravest hero, He is the loveliest doll, He is absolute zero, And he is a hot tamal’.
He is the City Council And all its twists and quirks, He is the Board of Estimates, He is the whole darn works.
He is the boom and the boomers, He is the Great White Way, He is the moon at eventide, And he is the sun by day.
He is the Royal Family, He is Robert and Dan, He is Sol and S. S. Field, He is the super-Mahon. ——— Meanwhile, the trees down the road are getting their spring whitewashing, new drinking benches are being built, waiters are being trained, and all signs point to a highly satisfactory Sunday business this summer.