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Rosebud, v. 1, issue 4, April 1945
Page 8
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Alas, we are done. Sic transit -- you know. A new fandom has sprung up around us, quietly and without warning, to take the credit and shoot some fireworks. We had only baseball games, dollar banquets, exclusions and first-run movies -- they have fireworks. Goodbye Ackerman, goodbye Ashley, goodbye Burbee, goodbye Laney, goodbye Sehnert, goodbye Dunk, goodbye Widenbeck, goodbye Kennedy, goodbye Evans, goodbye Raym, goodbye Speer, goodbye Liebscher, goodbye Chauvenet, goodbye Gray, goodbye Watson, goodbye Swisher -- you are but helpless, bedraggled has-beens, too late to plunk down your quarter and purchase membership in the new fandom of Lemuria. The new fandom with fireworks. Gone indeed are the wonderful days of old when we could gather at conventions and swill gin; gone are the poker games; the hotel-room hooliganism; the hot-air oratory; the money-making auctions; the romping days and nights of slans gone mad. The old fandom is dead. The new fandom has appeared and taken the credit. With fireworks. Yes, you are done, done, done, because are you stupid, you out there. But not us -- oh no, not us. We're smart. We are going to dash out tomorrow and purchase a back-copy of the issue in question. Perhaps this new fandom publishes a fanzine or two -- and we are completionists, you know. So long, helpless has-beens. We'll think of you now and then with a tear in our eye, when we are composing articles in the new fandom of Lemuria. Articles containing fireworks. *********************************** Mr Tucker Gnashes His Teeth: Its hard on our upper plate, but we do gnash them gnow and then. We are currently gnashing them. We have to move; pack up and skedaddle. But not because we neglected to pay the rent or some trifle such as that. The house has been sold from under us as surely as the termites had eaten it away. Perhaps they have. Not that all this means much to you, but it does to us. Because not many months ago we sunk a sizeable sum of our own dear money into redecorating our two-room upstairs den. Repainting everything, bought a new bookcase, and things like that. Now we have to move. We gnash. ********************************** We recently received in the mail a cute little thingamabob from Los Angeles entitled the Two Fingers. It claimed it was a fanzine. Well, it was in that it had a few pages of mimeographed matter on the usual kind of paper fanzines are found on. All resemblance stopped there. Some of the boys in the back room whipped it up in a moment of inkleholic generosity. As a completionist we appreciate their generosity in sending us a copy. As a reader we aren't so pleased. It stank of poor taste, bad humor, and unlovely remarks. It was dedicated to a person whom we doubt will ever receive a copy. We weep at such crud. -8-
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Alas, we are done. Sic transit -- you know. A new fandom has sprung up around us, quietly and without warning, to take the credit and shoot some fireworks. We had only baseball games, dollar banquets, exclusions and first-run movies -- they have fireworks. Goodbye Ackerman, goodbye Ashley, goodbye Burbee, goodbye Laney, goodbye Sehnert, goodbye Dunk, goodbye Widenbeck, goodbye Kennedy, goodbye Evans, goodbye Raym, goodbye Speer, goodbye Liebscher, goodbye Chauvenet, goodbye Gray, goodbye Watson, goodbye Swisher -- you are but helpless, bedraggled has-beens, too late to plunk down your quarter and purchase membership in the new fandom of Lemuria. The new fandom with fireworks. Gone indeed are the wonderful days of old when we could gather at conventions and swill gin; gone are the poker games; the hotel-room hooliganism; the hot-air oratory; the money-making auctions; the romping days and nights of slans gone mad. The old fandom is dead. The new fandom has appeared and taken the credit. With fireworks. Yes, you are done, done, done, because are you stupid, you out there. But not us -- oh no, not us. We're smart. We are going to dash out tomorrow and purchase a back-copy of the issue in question. Perhaps this new fandom publishes a fanzine or two -- and we are completionists, you know. So long, helpless has-beens. We'll think of you now and then with a tear in our eye, when we are composing articles in the new fandom of Lemuria. Articles containing fireworks. *********************************** Mr Tucker Gnashes His Teeth: Its hard on our upper plate, but we do gnash them gnow and then. We are currently gnashing them. We have to move; pack up and skedaddle. But not because we neglected to pay the rent or some trifle such as that. The house has been sold from under us as surely as the termites had eaten it away. Perhaps they have. Not that all this means much to you, but it does to us. Because not many months ago we sunk a sizeable sum of our own dear money into redecorating our two-room upstairs den. Repainting everything, bought a new bookcase, and things like that. Now we have to move. We gnash. ********************************** We recently received in the mail a cute little thingamabob from Los Angeles entitled the Two Fingers. It claimed it was a fanzine. Well, it was in that it had a few pages of mimeographed matter on the usual kind of paper fanzines are found on. All resemblance stopped there. Some of the boys in the back room whipped it up in a moment of inkleholic generosity. As a completionist we appreciate their generosity in sending us a copy. As a reader we aren't so pleased. It stank of poor taste, bad humor, and unlovely remarks. It was dedicated to a person whom we doubt will ever receive a copy. We weep at such crud. -8-
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