37 - Speech at burial of Muggs & Clara

posted May 27, 2016, 2:28 PM by North Judson-Wayne Township Public Library   [ updated May 27, 2016, 2:30 PM ]
Dearly Beloved: 

Four score and twenty years ago, Mr. Gillette and Mrs. Wilkinson brought forth to this town a new shaver, conceived to make money and dedicated to the proposition that all men should cut their face at least once a day. 

Now we are engaged in a great hairy mess, testing whether that straight-edge, or any other blade so ground and so stropped in costly Swiss oxhide can long stand the gaff.  Now we are met at the outset of that stubblefield.  We have come to inter and put to final rest a portion of those who here gave their edges that the men of North Judson might have a smooth face and get at least a decent kiss from their loving ones.  It is altogether ridiculous and senseless that we should do this. 

But, in a bedraggled way, we cannot test, we cannot analyze, we cannot prove whether Brand X or the bleep-bloop blade gives 147 impartial barbers a closer cleaning.  The dull scrapers, bought and sold, who nicked us here, have scarred the populous beyond the efforts of plastic surgery to save.  The barbers will not remember nor little care what we say here, but THEY can not forget the damage they have done here.  It is for us the youngsters, rather to be dedicated here to the task of growing hair on the face.  For some this will be much harder than for others however, I see for some here it will be easier than growing it on their head.  And we here highly resolve that these bent razors whall have pulled, nicked and scraped in vain – that this face, under a good crop of whiskers shwll not be seen until September 6, and that the males of North Judson will show to the world a true badge of Apehood. 

Under a waving, greasy mirror
Cosmetic’s beauty scowls;
The Beauty, quite a woman is she,
With fat and sloppy jowls; 
And the point of her lengthy nose
Is sharp as the mason’s trowels.

Her hair is bouffant, and ratted and teased,
Her face is like the tan,
Her brows are shaped, and plucked and squeezed,
She does the best she can
And looks the whole world in the face, 
For she’s after every man. 

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear her mournful cry
As she applies the make-up thick,
You can see the powder fly,
Like the breaking of the New Dawn,
As she flits from dye to dye. 

And children coming home from school
Look in the open door,
They love to see the unpainted face
‘fore Avon calls once more,
And that they must again help
With beauty’s tiresome chore.

She goes on Friday to the parlor
And sits among the driers,
She hears the local, juicy gossip
Better than the Old Town Criers,
It looks like Hazel Bishop and 
It takes like raspberry briars.

She sits down at the make-up table, 
It’s really quite a scene 
As she goes through the styles and shades 
And tries the Mabeline –
So frantic is she in her desire 
To look just like a queen.  

Primping, painting and creaming
Onward through life she must toil,
Each morning some new mud pack applied,
To Max Factor she is loyal.
Something squirted, something rolled on,
She is smelling like used oil.

Thanks, thanks to thee, Oh Lady Esther,
For the toilet water thou has brought
Thus on the beauty bar is shaped
Each feature we have sought.
And so with faces plain and simple
We show to you each mole and pimple. 


But friends, neighbors and townsmen, lend me your ears, I have come to bury Muggs Razor and Clara Cosmetic and not to praise them.  The suffering individuals cause lives on after them and the good is oft interred with their cases.  So let it be with Muggs and Clara.
 
The Noble Centennial Committee has told you that Muggs and Clara were destructive of the natural and simple beauty of the men and women of North Judson.  If it were so, it was a grievous fault and grievously have Muggs and Clara paid for it. 

Here under leave of the Noble Centennial Committee and the rest, for they are all Honorable men and women, Come I to speak at the funeral of Muggs and Clara.  They were my friends – scratchy and smelly – but they were my friends.  But they Noble Centennial Committee says they were destructive and the Centennial Committee is an Honorable Group. 

Clara has made Gravel Gerty look like Mona Lisa.  Did that seem destructive? 

And poor Muggs lies here bend and chipped.  Destructive material should be made of sterner stuff.  Yet the Centennial Committee says that they were destructive and the Centennial Committee is an Honorable Group. 

Clara has covered the pimples and blackheads of many a young girl to make her attractive to the opposite sex.  Yet the Centennial Committee says that she was destructive and the Centennial Committee is an Honorable Group. 

I speak not to disapprove what the Centennial Committee spoke, but here I am to speak of that which I know.  You all loved them once, and not without cause.  What cause then withholds you to mourn them?  O Judgment thou hare fled to brutish beasts, and men and women have lost their reason.  My heart is in the coffin there with Muggs and Clara and I must pause till it comes back. 

But yesterday the edge of Muggs might have stood against the face of the world and shaved it clean and smooth and manly.  Now he lies there, and none so poor to do him reverence. O master if I were disposed to stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do the Centennial Committee wrong, and the Centennial Committee are honorable men and women.  But here’s a parchment with the seal of Muggs and Clara.  I found it in their closed.  It is their will.  Let but only you with hairy faces and unpainted lips hear the testament.  Which (pardon me) I do not mean to read. 

And they WOODBURY poor STUDIO GIRL’s empty coffers and dip their hankies in the PONDS of CHANEL No. 5, and beg an eyebrow pencil for memory sake. 

Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it.  It is not good that you should know how Muggs and Clara loved you.  You are not wood, You are not stone, but mortals with a heart, and being mortals, hearing the will of of Muggs and Clara will only inflame you, and make you mad.  It is better for us both that you do not know that you are their heirs.  For if you did, I know not what you might do. 

Please be patient, I have overshot myself to tell you of it, and I fear that I have wronged the Honorable Centennial Committee whose decree has laid Muggs and Clara to become fertilizer, I do fear it. 

Your shouts compel me to read the will.  And if you have tears prepare to shed them now. 

You all know this mustache, I remember the first time Muggs left it on.  It was on a winter’s evening, the day I persuaded my wife to let it grow.  It has brought such wordly pleasures as someone asking me if my eyebrow dropped. 

When my sinus trouble is very bad
And the snot has really begun
There are always little hairs around
Just to catch the run.
And after all of this
And a sticky meal too.
One can hardly tell 
Whether he ought to wipe or chew. 
And so it is with Clara
Without whom the eyes are buggy,
It just doesn’t really tempt one
To give a little huggy. 
The lips are no longer alluring
Nor are the cheeks rosy red,
It almost leads one to think
It is the women who are dead.
There is no more balm, cologne or perfume
The fragrance is not so well,
It fact it smells as though
The whole bodys gone to Hell.
Without these two good friends,
We are like the old Bull, who broke his leg and ask
“How now, Brown Cow?”

Alas, Here is the Will. 

Dear Clara leaves first:  to every man the right to see his lady made-up to look like what she ain’t. 
Second:  The inevitable problem of cleaning lipstick off his shirt collar. 
Third:  Of fighting his way through tubes, jars and bottles to get to the bathroom mirror. 

Muggs gives to every lady the opportunity to first:  identify her man without first combing the brush. 
Second:  The right to be caressed by the skin you love to touch instead of by a porcupine. 
Third:  And to the barbers, the opportunity to cut hair instead of trimming it. 

So, after paring the hair, on a clear day one can see forever and above the roar of the grease paint and the smell of the crowd, we can say Muggs and Clara did us proud. 

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