Bunkum Lectures
I have frequently amused my long-suffering friends and relatives by Bunkum Lectures. For example, one on Toe and Cornology, quite an original science, gives scope for the most idiotic remarks on the characteristic traits portrayed by toes.
For my lecture I have an easel, covered with a block of thin paper perforated at the top, so that the sheets are easily torn off. On these I rapidly sketch in turn different types of toes in chalk.
If the entertainer is unable to draw, he can probably persuade an artist friend to sketch the members required beforehand. In this case the sheets need not be perforated, but simply thrown over the top of the easel as he exhibits the different drawings. An easel is soon constructed, and can be made at home out of soap boxes by the amateur carpenter; or the block of paper may be placed on a music-stand.
I begin my lecture by a short treatise on toes. I show diagrams of (1) the President’s toe, (2) the prelate’s toe, (3) the courtier’s toe, (4) the tyrant’s toe, (5) the toady’s toe, (6) the artisan’s toe, (7) the neurotic toe, (8) the spiteful toe, (9) the cringing toe, (10) the poetic toe, (11) the melancholy toe, (12) the absurd toe, (13) the philanthropic toe, (14) the corn-riddled toe. Here I try to be witty, and remark that some people of an original turn of mind wear their corns on their noses instead of inside their boots.
“The corn is precious—we all need corn; we make a great to-do when our corn is oppressed by taxes, for we cherish it. There is nothing—not even his wife or twin babes—so dear to the heart and necessary to the well-being of man as corn. Corn means bread. Bread is the staff of life. The man with corn (a corn) is grateful for the prop of the staff, so that to have a corn sprouting on your big toe should be no hardship.
“It is a convenience. It is tinned for consumption in your boot, out of reach of Tariff Reformers and Free Traders. It is your own private property. Sometimes it is trodden on maliciously, but it does not vanish on that account. There is something obstinate and bull-necked about the corn—the more it is trodden on the more it asserts itself. It is a hot-house plant. It needs a cover of wool, a roof of boot leather. Under these conditions it thrives like the baby fed on Mellin’s food.
“I can’t understand the fuss the unemployed make. Why should they, when they have such a treasure hidden in their boots? So long as a citizen possesses this luxury he is an independent man. What does he want with foreign corn? Ah, my friends, we have not yet reached the full realization of the tremendous privileges we inherit. The corn may not yet be ripe for cutting, but every day, every hour, sees it nearer that perfection which rejoices the heart of humanity.
“See how beneficent nature has become during the last centuries. The bootless, prehistoric savage had to plant and reap his corn in the barren fields, while we are provided gratis with an abundant supply that is likely to last some of us a lifetime.
“There are, of course, some individuals who have barren, cornless toes, although I am glad to say they are in a very small minority. I have taken pains to secure a correct census of the corn-sprouts that have appeared during the last year, and I find on an average that only 5 per cent. are ignorant of this blessing.
“The uses of a corn crop are too numerous to mention. Its chief function is its use as a barometer. The man setting out with his wife and children to spend a day at the seaside should, before starting on the excursion, consult his booted friend. If it admonishes him severely he should not ignore its voice. Woe betide him if he does! It is less disastrous for him to drown his conscience than shut his heart against the promptings of his corn.
“Should he do so, and act upon his determination to spend a long day on the sands, anticipating a pleasurable bask in the sunshine, dire catastrophe will befall him. Rain descends in bucketfuls upon him, his patient wife, and wailing progeny. They return to town drenched to the skin, and are all laid up with chills, which means a week’s absence from the office—perhaps dismissal by his employer, if he is a clerk, and a long doctor’s bill at the end of the month; and who is to blame? Had the man obeyed the mandates of the faithful vegetable protuberance on his big toe all would have been well.
“The only individual I am inclined to respect and admire is the man who cultivates and is led by his corn in all the important affairs of life. To be without the ripening corn is to miss the greater part of the meaning and poignancy of existence. The possession of this treasure causes a man to thread his way gingerly and tactfully through the city streets. He never blunders or bungles; he is a sensitive, considerate person, who unconsciously avoids treading upon or coveting the abundant crops of others. His corn’s influence is more beneficial than freemasonry or foreign missions.
“To gain the sympathies and interest of a fellow-being when you are in trouble and want his financial aid, don’t plunge into your story at once, but approach him gently with the kindly query, ‘Have you a corn?’ If he replies in the affirmative, you may safely intrust him with your difficulties. If, on the contrary, he negatives your question, recognize at once that he is a man of dormant sympathies, and don’t waste further time upon him. It will be useless. He is a cornless individual, therefore heartless.”
I wind up my discourse with some such remark as this—
“Ladies and gentlemen, turn away from the pernicious tyrants who seek to rob you of your birthright in advertising corn salves and plasters. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing. They are jealous and embittered by the barrenness of their toe pastures which, do what they will, yield no corn.”