3/11/2013 10:01:00 PM Column: Speling can sumtyms be so vry overeighted
Jerry Jackson Courier columnist
Who is Howard Lynch? Your guess is as good as mine. But whoever he is, he's somebody by that name who came up with a cute bit of writing that has been languishing in my Funny File for ages, and I just resurrected it.
Now, wife Pat had an uncle by that name, but she feels sure that he wasn't the author in question. So what I did was to go to the Internet and type in "Howard Lynch, humorist" in the upper right-hand part of the screen, which produced a listing of a big batch of American comedy writers - from Tom Agna to Alan Zweibel, along with quite a few more familiar names including, alphabetically, Stephen Colbert, Will Durst, Tina Fey, Argus Hamilton and Ernie Kovacs. But the closest I could come to Howard was Peg Lynch, who was the 11th - and last - writer on the "L" list.
Whatever. But following is Howard's touchy-feely homily titled "Cellsminship". (And please, whoever edits this, don't consult spell check in your reading. Trust me: It's a losing battle.) Here's how it reads ... in all its gory glory:
"The boss of a very dignified company hired a new salesman who had come to the big city from a small town. The salesman had a neat enough appearance, but he seemed to have a little hayseed remaining, and the boss had immediate misgivings about his new salesman. But he decided to give him a fair try at selling and sent him out on the road.
"In a few days the salesman wrote the boss: 'Dear Baws, I seen this outfit which they ain never bought a dimes worh of nothing from us and I sole them a couple hunnerd thousin dollars worth of our stuf. I am now going to Shacawgo.'
"Two days later another letter arrived at the home office: 'Dear Baws, I cum here and I sole them half a millyun.'
"Both of the letters were posted on the company bulletin board, along with this note:
"TO THE STAFF: We bin spindin to much time hear trying to spel, instead of trying to sel. Let's watch them sails. I want everboddy shud read these letters from Gooch who is on the rode doing a grate job for us. I want you shud go out and do like he done."
It was signed: "Sincerely, The Baws".
Prescott's Donna Prescott (hey, that's got a good ring to it!) stumbled onto an interesting 70-year old invoice a while back while going through a storage room at the Prescott United Methodist Church. The invoice - from Prescott Courier, Inc. - had survived a flooding when a water pipe burst in a rest room in Walker Hall, which no longer exists due to its having been razed more than a decade ago to make room for the new sanctuary there off West Gurley Street. The invoice was for a classified ad relating to a church cafeteria supper, and the run date was Feb. 15, 1943. The ad contained 23 words and - at 2 cents a word - tallied out at 46 cents! It was paid in full two days later, according to a hand-written notation on the invoice.
It goes without saying that times have changed quite a bit from a monetary standpoint here in the U.S. of A. But I said it anyway.
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