Dear Country Estate Owners:
I am currently looking for a well-appointed garden shed or cave for hermetic possibilities on your property.
I require very little upkeep as I am partial to voles. I am suitably apoplectic, adequately eccentric, and erudite in my mutterings.
I philosophise.
Let me be your living lawn ornament.
I can be reached at… I am not reachable.
Every little girl wishes to possess a dollie of her very own.
Dearest Ladies, so much that weakens you must be put to right!
Do you not require a respite from ails that ail you? Reprieve awaits you with the finest surgeon this land has to offer. Your spirits will lift, your hysteria will be quelled, and your life will be without the complex dramatics of a Shakespeare “problem play.” Surgeon Dr. Julius Merriweather suggests the very finest treatments for such lady complaints as:
Indecisiveness
… Dr. Merriweather suggests hysterectomy
Dropsy
… perhaps a womb removal followed by a sewing up
Forlorniness
… ovary quelling
Corset suffocation rib smooshing
… hysterectomy
Unconsummated hysterical loin yearnings
… hysterectomy followed by sitz bath
Hysterical fancies
… womb reduction with ovary hide and seek
Intermittent 360 degree spinning in place
… heroin, followed by blade
Hysterical hysterectomy
… perhaps an actual hysterectomy may be helpful
So much to be solved with a caring flick of a gleaming blade … and a reassuring smile from a surgeon who knows what’s what in the lady department.
Won’t you visit the Office of Dr. Julius Merriweather, Gentleman and MD? It is located off Harley Street near where that guy got killed.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall — please tell me what gender I am.”
Treat your little gentleman to his very own Ambiguous Transgendery Nighttime Boy-Dress for a bedtime of sweet dreams that may unburden your tiny son and heir of his confusion and unending questions concerning identity.
Jack Stark himself says:
“After all, are we not all ambiguously pretty in our
young rough-and-tumble years? Are we not?”
My name is Josephus Buford and my capacious beard is available to let.
It is a well-appointed beard with space abundant enough for a fine family of social standing and good breeding. Within my beard are included such better-quality furnishings as a walnut burl library desk table, two Belter rosewood chairs, a colonial cherry breakfront china cabinet, one grand piano forte, one tiger oak curio, a velvet fainting settee, two 8-string Lily harps, a fully fitted kitchen with one year’s supply of coal, and a marble-top commode with two Westwood china bedpans. Also included is this small urchin:
—Help! Sir Tristram! Sir! Wait! No—
You may contact me regarding my beard accommodation in the gentlemen’s toilets at the Café Royal during high tea.
In these times of difficulty acquiring ample homes in a crowded and filthy city such as this, you will find my beard most convivial and comfortable.
I am, of course, attached.
“We have always wanted to be ladylike and of the petite way. Our large hands, malevolent scowls, and love of raw beef have kept us away from the prospect of gentlemen callers. But with Fainting Dainties Emollient applied to the womby areas, we swiftly get struck ill and fall down dead at most dance halls and ice cream socials.”
The Forsbrand Sisters, Willoughby, Ohio
“I was sick into my embroidered handkerchief and was thusly engaged to be married within the quarter hour! How may I thank you, Fainting Dainties Emollient? How?”
Philomena Metheun at her debutante cotillion
“I like to fall down.”
Abigail Shunn, the bottom of the stairs
Exude manliness, potency, and verve by using …
