“That Hon. Explosion must be mentioned all by itself,” are contort for me.
Mr. Editor, all newspaper-prints is now filled with scandal about feet-ballers & what happen to them. I understand how Carlyle Indians would be champions of America except for fact that Chief Kick-in-the-Head have received something like his name; also ½ back, Hon. Hoopi, have fraxured both legs; ¼ back, Crazy Buffalo, are now in hospital enjoying 2 or 3 ribs, & Young-Man-Who-Butts-Like-a-Goat, famous tackler, have come apart & must be sewed together. White mans has been entirely unjust to Indians. Not satisfied with teaching them whisky-drunk they now educates them in feetball. The Nobel Red Man are thusly fast becoming a bursted race.
In another news-print I read-it how there are a general move in America to make feetball more kindly. How foolish to think! Feetball without an occasional murder would be like a bullfite without no Hon. Bull. It would be gentle, but who would come? I require no answer.
Howeverly all grandest California Colledges is now playing Rugboy feetball which is English & therefore entirely polite. And yet necks can be bursted by this way if required.
Last Saturday in early P. M. I make a very stylish appearance to my clothes which include frockaway coat, derby hat, respectful gloves & whatever shoes & socks are necessary for most beautiful way to look. With such ornaments I could not wear my familiar necktie which are getting too shabbed; so I borrow one of angry red complexion from Arthur Kickahajama who was not there when I took it. Thank you, Arthur, for kindness loan!
With them fashionable haberdash I make my joyful footprints go in direction of sidewalk where all Japanese what see me revoke, “Where would Hashimura Togo go so completely decorated?” But for answer I make American eye-wink & nothing else.
Pretty soonly I arrive by door-mat of Yoshima Suki, Japanese carpenter, & there I do rap-tap with nervus knuckles. After deliciously long time Miss Evelyn Suki, dreamy lady of entire youngness, come to knob & look surprised because she expect it was me.
“Kind morning, Mr. Togo,” she say-it with deceptive expression of a female, “which of my Parents did you come to see?”