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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 2, June 1941
Page 4
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YNGVi is not a LOUSE ! By----- YNGVI (As revealed to ELMER PERDUE). Gentlement, I have been maligned, slandered, and condemed without the opportunity to speak a word in my defense. A certain Mr. L. Sprague de Camp is, I believe, responsible. For in a story of his, an unnamed character, but one plainly recognizable as Tovarich, shouts at regular intervals, "Yngvi is a louse!" And that, gentlemen, is an unqualified lie. Mr. L. Sprague de Camp should at least have investigated before printing the libel; then, perhaps, I would not be in my present predicament. The plain facts in the case are these: once, Tovarich, Yehudi, and I were quite happy together. We had a partnership, and were dealers in flounces, baudles, and second hand words. Business was good; we ended each year in the pink. (I might parenthicize here that we used pink ink rather than black, because Yehudi is quite color-blind.) This went on for years. Things went swimmingly -- so swimmingly in fact, that we were seriously considering opening a branch store to sell third-hand watered stock. But alas! trouble reared hiser black, ugly head. Yehudi got ambitious. A certain Colonna discovered himer; engaged himer on outside jobs. And Yehudi accepted these other jobs without bringing in we other partners. ((Hi, Koenig!)). Tovarich, poor slach, didn't find out about it; never did. But poor slandered, defenseless Yngiv did. I found Yohudi doctoring the books, painting out of the profits with red ink. Heesh defended himerself with hiser color-blindness when I confronted himer with the evidence about Colonna and threatened to negate himer by a semantic proving that heesh didn't exist, unless heesh cut Tovarich and I in on a share of hiser illegitimate profits. Did Yehudi yield? This is a purely rhetorical question, and need not be answered. Because, simply, heesh didn't. Heesh told me that heesh'd discovered a counter-charm, and go ahead and negate himer. And I did the customary thing -- told many people, including a certain Bok Hope, a presumable associate of Mr. Colonna, that Yehudi didn't exist. And I was much amazed when Yehudi remained in corporeal existance! Then Y ehudi, the louse, did that which alienated me forever from my clientele -- heesh approached an author named L. Sprague de Camp and instigated the slander whereunder I yet labor. Heesh had Mr. De Camp write poor, innocent Tovarich into a dank prison cell, and thereby doomed poor Tovarich to an eternity of lice and Norse giants, eternally condemned to arise punctually each half-hour and scream that monstrous calumny which I blush to repeat: "Yngvi is a louse!" Consider poor Tovarich! The only way for himer to escape hiser fate is for Mr. de Camp, or another author would be equally acceptable, to write a tale wherein poor Tovarich is specifically released. For until then I, Yngvi, must remained slandered . . . .and to make it worse business is no longer in the pink. Tovarich was our business head; heesh it was that collared a certain Alan P. Roberts and made of him our chief customer for second hand words. . . . (Concluded on page 7)
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YNGVi is not a LOUSE ! By----- YNGVI (As revealed to ELMER PERDUE). Gentlement, I have been maligned, slandered, and condemed without the opportunity to speak a word in my defense. A certain Mr. L. Sprague de Camp is, I believe, responsible. For in a story of his, an unnamed character, but one plainly recognizable as Tovarich, shouts at regular intervals, "Yngvi is a louse!" And that, gentlemen, is an unqualified lie. Mr. L. Sprague de Camp should at least have investigated before printing the libel; then, perhaps, I would not be in my present predicament. The plain facts in the case are these: once, Tovarich, Yehudi, and I were quite happy together. We had a partnership, and were dealers in flounces, baudles, and second hand words. Business was good; we ended each year in the pink. (I might parenthicize here that we used pink ink rather than black, because Yehudi is quite color-blind.) This went on for years. Things went swimmingly -- so swimmingly in fact, that we were seriously considering opening a branch store to sell third-hand watered stock. But alas! trouble reared hiser black, ugly head. Yehudi got ambitious. A certain Colonna discovered himer; engaged himer on outside jobs. And Yehudi accepted these other jobs without bringing in we other partners. ((Hi, Koenig!)). Tovarich, poor slach, didn't find out about it; never did. But poor slandered, defenseless Yngiv did. I found Yohudi doctoring the books, painting out of the profits with red ink. Heesh defended himerself with hiser color-blindness when I confronted himer with the evidence about Colonna and threatened to negate himer by a semantic proving that heesh didn't exist, unless heesh cut Tovarich and I in on a share of hiser illegitimate profits. Did Yehudi yield? This is a purely rhetorical question, and need not be answered. Because, simply, heesh didn't. Heesh told me that heesh'd discovered a counter-charm, and go ahead and negate himer. And I did the customary thing -- told many people, including a certain Bok Hope, a presumable associate of Mr. Colonna, that Yehudi didn't exist. And I was much amazed when Yehudi remained in corporeal existance! Then Y ehudi, the louse, did that which alienated me forever from my clientele -- heesh approached an author named L. Sprague de Camp and instigated the slander whereunder I yet labor. Heesh had Mr. De Camp write poor, innocent Tovarich into a dank prison cell, and thereby doomed poor Tovarich to an eternity of lice and Norse giants, eternally condemned to arise punctually each half-hour and scream that monstrous calumny which I blush to repeat: "Yngvi is a louse!" Consider poor Tovarich! The only way for himer to escape hiser fate is for Mr. de Camp, or another author would be equally acceptable, to write a tale wherein poor Tovarich is specifically released. For until then I, Yngvi, must remained slandered . . . .and to make it worse business is no longer in the pink. Tovarich was our business head; heesh it was that collared a certain Alan P. Roberts and made of him our chief customer for second hand words. . . . (Concluded on page 7)
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