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Scienti Tales, v. 1, issue 1, January 1939
Page 19
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DAVID H. KELLER M. D. SCIENTI-TALES PAGE 19... [Image of hands forming various gestures surrounding a man's head that is wearing a neckerchief and sailor's hat.] THE HORRIBLE PANTOMINE by Dr. DAVID H. KELLER "What we all need is a change," said Catharine. "We certainly do!" insisted Elizabeth. "Then we will go to Hamilton Square and worship the church of our fathers," I suggested. "Nothing of kind. We are going to philadelphia," said Catharine. "I know," and there was bitterness in my reply. Catharine wants to drink cocktails and dance the rumba obscenely with Ralph, and Elizabeth wants more Bobsy books. It all costs money; it sounds expensive. I am Broke." "Then go with us, study humanity, write a sociological article and pay for the good time," retorted the older daughter. "I know what that means. The last three times I did that the articles were published. I was arrested for obscenity. I sold the articles, and you girls got fifty percent, the lawyer forty-nine percent and I had hardly enough left to pay for safety razor blades. We are going to church." But of course we went to Philadelphia Saturday afternoon. A man cannot argue with women, at least not successfully with his daughters. We bought books, had supper with Ralph, and then split three ways. The parting advice from Catharine was, "Go the limit, Father. Be your age. Study obscenity and make more money for us. We need it." "So does my lawyer," I retorted. After two hours of studying the history of pantomine in the Philadelphia Public Library I staggered back to my fifth rate hotel. I was very discouraged. Life seemed bitter. I had learned nothing of pantomine I did not know, I followed the bell boy to my room, gave him a dime and locked the door. Looking into the bathroom an inspiration came to me. "Is this the desk clerk?" I called over the telephone. "Yes?" "This is room 365. I want to enter a complaint. The furniture is antique." "We pride ourselves on that." "And so is the dirt on the bath-room floor. It is so dirty that it is obscene, almost pornographic. Perhaps you know who I am? You may have read my articles. But that is no excuse. I may write obscenity but I do not want to tread on it. My mind may be dirty but I still have a respect for the cleanliness of my feet. I may be an author but I am yet not a pig. What do you intend to do about it? Must I have that floor inspected by the Philadelphia Society for the Prevention of Vice?" "We will change your room at once."
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DAVID H. KELLER M. D. SCIENTI-TALES PAGE 19... [Image of hands forming various gestures surrounding a man's head that is wearing a neckerchief and sailor's hat.] THE HORRIBLE PANTOMINE by Dr. DAVID H. KELLER "What we all need is a change," said Catharine. "We certainly do!" insisted Elizabeth. "Then we will go to Hamilton Square and worship the church of our fathers," I suggested. "Nothing of kind. We are going to philadelphia," said Catharine. "I know," and there was bitterness in my reply. Catharine wants to drink cocktails and dance the rumba obscenely with Ralph, and Elizabeth wants more Bobsy books. It all costs money; it sounds expensive. I am Broke." "Then go with us, study humanity, write a sociological article and pay for the good time," retorted the older daughter. "I know what that means. The last three times I did that the articles were published. I was arrested for obscenity. I sold the articles, and you girls got fifty percent, the lawyer forty-nine percent and I had hardly enough left to pay for safety razor blades. We are going to church." But of course we went to Philadelphia Saturday afternoon. A man cannot argue with women, at least not successfully with his daughters. We bought books, had supper with Ralph, and then split three ways. The parting advice from Catharine was, "Go the limit, Father. Be your age. Study obscenity and make more money for us. We need it." "So does my lawyer," I retorted. After two hours of studying the history of pantomine in the Philadelphia Public Library I staggered back to my fifth rate hotel. I was very discouraged. Life seemed bitter. I had learned nothing of pantomine I did not know, I followed the bell boy to my room, gave him a dime and locked the door. Looking into the bathroom an inspiration came to me. "Is this the desk clerk?" I called over the telephone. "Yes?" "This is room 365. I want to enter a complaint. The furniture is antique." "We pride ourselves on that." "And so is the dirt on the bath-room floor. It is so dirty that it is obscene, almost pornographic. Perhaps you know who I am? You may have read my articles. But that is no excuse. I may write obscenity but I do not want to tread on it. My mind may be dirty but I still have a respect for the cleanliness of my feet. I may be an author but I am yet not a pig. What do you intend to do about it? Must I have that floor inspected by the Philadelphia Society for the Prevention of Vice?" "We will change your room at once."
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