War Chest

Thanksgiving Is Coming? Great, I Can't Wait To Spend It, All The Way Out Here, In The Middle Of Nowhere...Alone...Again

Chris — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 15:41:05 +0000

This is a letter Henry David Thoreau sent to his Aunt in November of 1846. At that time Thoreau was living alone on Walden Pond, which was 1.5 miles away from his family home.

November 5, 1846

Dearest Aunt,

I want to thank you for your letter reminding me that Thanksgiving is fast approaching. It's funny that your letter was dated November 4th. I find it hard to believe that it found its way to my remote location so quickly.

If Only I Were Taller

Chris — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 15:37:54 +0000

The following is an unpublished letter written by Jefferson Davis, former President of the Confederate States of America.

May 10, 1865

Dear Friend,

I am writing this letter to inform you that I am a loser, a bum, a good-for-nothing, a pile of horse dung. I was close, so close to making a new nation, so close to success. I had it. I had it within my grasp, but I let it slip away. And now it is gone, gone forever.

If We Free The Slaves, Who Will Do The Work That Americans Don’t Want To Do?

Chris — Tue, 04 Sep 2007 15:17:06 +0000

Alexander Martin, Governor of North Carolina and Delegate to the Constitutional Convention

This is a speech given by Governor Martin to the Constitutional Convention on September 7th, 1787.

My dear gentleman, as we come close to completing this document and laying the foundation to the greatest experiment in human history. I pray that we table a discussion of slavery and move on.

Here I Am English, Come Get A Taste!

Chris — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 14:30:37 +0000

KID O'HALLORAN

This editorial appeared in the London Times during February of 1902.

(Dublin, Ireland) Let's get right to it shall we? If you stinking limey bastards plan to keep poisoning our good Irish minds with your Catholic witchcraft, your crappy Queen and your bland tasteless food, then you're going to have to answer to me, Kid O'Hallaron, The Great Potato Masher. Yeah that's right, I'm not a myth used to scare your stupid wanker children. I'm the real McCoy!

And today, I'm announcing my intention to wipe up the street with you chinless wonders.

We Strongly Suggest You Buy A Paper

Chris — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 14:44:45 +0000

This is an eyewitness account from 1921.

(Washington D.C.) Hey buddy, where are you going? Yea, we're talking to you. Come over here and buy the latest edition. Oh, you've already got it? Well take this anyway you want four-eyes, but we strongly suggest that you buy a paper.

Rejoice! The Utopia Of Tomorrow Is Here!

Chris — Fri, 03 Aug 2007 15:20:08 +0000

William Exxon

December 24, 1909

(Dallas, TX) Are you looking for the Utopia of tomorrow? Well friend, look for further because I say it has found us, today! Are you listening pal? The Utopia of tomorrow is here! And it's name is OIL!

I Can Assure You, I Did Not Take One Drop Of Dandy Jim's Muscle Tonic

Chris — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 15:13:50 +0000

Ed O'Brien-1918

(Chicago, IL) Well, it's a sad day here in Chicago. I feel I'm being set up as the fall guy. So I'm here to set the record straight. I, Ed O'Brien, am on the level. Now it's true that I'm hitting more home runs, running faster, and that I weigh 50 pounds more than last season, but it's all on the up and up.

Get this down for your rags.

Do It Again, I F*cking Dare You!

Chris — Thu, 31 May 2007 23:53:25 +0000

The Man in the Moon

The following is a New Times Times Op-Ed from April 7, 1902.

(New York, NY) Congratulations. I'm impressed, really. And I'm not easily impressed. This is quite the accomplishment. You should really be proud of yourself. Go ahead, give yourselves a pat on the back. Have a cold one. You deserve it.

Dear God, What I Have I Done?

Chris — Thu, 03 May 2007 14:22:07 +0000

This is an excerpt from the diary of Alexander Graham Bell from November 4, 1888.

The weather has turned cold here in Boston, but it seems even colder in this house. No one talks to one another. No one is writing letters to friends or family, and no one is receiving any letters. Instead everyone is talking on the telephone. I fear that this is my doing, my fault. After all I'm the one who introduced that damn telephone to the masses, and thanks to me it seems our civilization might be crumbling beneath our feet! But please know and tell future generations, that I envisioned the telephone as helping people, helping our society. What a damn fool I was.

Little Elsie May tells me, "Father, I don't need to write letters to my friends. Not when I can just pick up the phone and talk to them. Don't you know that print is dead?" My heart sank when I heard those words. My daughter and all their friends are turning into some sort of teen-age monsters. They talk for hours and hours about absolutely nothing, nothing! And imagine, there's a whole generation of girls out there doing the same. Dear God, what have I done?

Lord help us if these chatty women ever get the right to vote, because that will be it for us. They will just chat us into submission before systematically ridding us of all our vices. NO. For the sake of mankind, I have to do something. Because we men need our vices like we need the air and booze. And as much as it pains me, I know what I have to do. I have to destroy The Bell Telephone Company and all the telephones.

I have no idea how I'm going to do it, but it's got to be done. The American way of life depends on it. The American family is in danger. Already, sit-down family dinners are a relic of another age. We are becoming more and more isolated, and soon we will become a cave-like population that never meets face to face. Does no one else see that we're evolving backwards? I am too disgusted to write any more. I only hope I have the strength to stop this train before it's too late.

Bell didn't. He was caught many times trying to snap the phone lines, but in fact he was too weak to actually close the wire clippers. Eventually Bell quit trying. As his hearing went and his bank account grew Bell accepted the new technology.

Is There Anyone Here In Need Of Saving?

Chris — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 16:52:22 +0000

Poncho Sergio Alaveda Schwartz

Below is Poncho's classified ad from 1915

(SAN DIEGO, CA) Hello, my name is Poncho Sergio Alaveda Schwartz. I am as you can see, a hero. But I am new to this town and I have no one to save. As you must know, a hero cannot be a hero unless he has someone to save. So, I was wondering. Is there anyone here in need of saving?

I assure you that I come highly recommended. I can give you references from my Rabbi, grandmother and tailor, Mr. Silverblatt, from my home in New York's lower east side. I am not new to saving, in fact I have saved many people from paying too much for fresh Hallah, whitefish salad and tacos. Also, when confronted by the threat of violence, I do not run the other way. Just ask Lenny Birnbaum from Lower Jerusalem Hebrew school, who put his fat arse on top of the flag pole.

I come from a long line of heroes. My father Schlomo Ira Schwartz was a hero. He met my mother Maria Sergio Alaveda in Brooklyn, while rescuing her from a bad diamond purchase. They fell instantly in love and were married having 7 children. In those days it was tough for a hero to find work in New York, so my father went to Mexico in search of glory. But all he found was death at the hand of the El Chupacabra.

Since all my siblings have decided for a life in vaudeville, it has fallen to me to pick up the hero mantle from my fallen father and serve the public.

Who will be my first savee here in the Golden state? All you have to do is send a note to the address in this ad, and I will drop everything and rush to your aid. (Except on the Sabbath, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Cinco De Mayo of course.) I am available, for example to walk with you through the rough neighborhoods of San Diego, collect any debts that have not been paid and press your finest linen. I have other talents, but when put into action they all have the same result. You being saved by a hero.

So just drop me a line and let the saving begin. I assure you that my rates are more than reasonable. You will not find a lower price in town. And if you do, I will beat it! Remember, when you think of hero, think of Poncho Sergio Alaveda Schwartz!

Poncho Sergio Alaveda Schwartz's career never got off the ground. The day after this classified ad was published, Poncho was thrown off a bridge by a group of out-of-work actors. His dying words were "Don't worry my friends, I, Poncho Sergio Alaveda Schwartz, will make the bottom of this river safe for you!"