Rapscallions,
Imagine the year is 1611 in Charlestowne and your nearby pig sty emits
foul odours which drift and wash over my humble home.
Imagine the year is 1626 and you have played a nasty trick to trade a
great northern port property the size of one man's giant
Knickerbockers in exchange for some crappy Wampum.
Imagine the year is 1732 at home in Olde Towne Alexandria and you refused to dance the Virginia Reel at my fête.
Imagine the year is 1826, in rural Georgia and you have plucked a
peach from my Peach tree without permission.
Imagine it is 1850 Missouri and you have looked at my daughter with
and eye full of longing.
It is the same thing today in 2008 to take a honorable and genteel 'staching of a french fry in Boston by one lovely, unfamous girl of the Commonwealth of Virginia and to snatch the Conceit, imitate the 'stache, poorly I might add, by a couple of hipsters, or models, or hipster models, and then have a silly, woolgathering, Lower East Side boy barista-cum-MOMA famed artiste make the Dagguerotype it to sell $500 sweaters. It is despicable. You, sirs, are Scoundrels and Thieves who do not dare walk among the goodliest of us who 'stache privately, pennilessly, and without the rewards of Profit. These dishonorable 'stachings must have an end!
There can be no rapprochement with Rascals who sling injury such as
this! PorkMoustache is a forum of Integrity, Virtues, Talent, and
Patriotism. This gold-lined potato lip hair cannot stand!
Sirs, we challenge you to a Duel. Neither politics nor fashion can
absolve Gentlemen and Ladies from the necessity of a rigid adherence
to the laws of honor and the rules of decorum. Meet on the Bannerman
island by the old Castle ruins at dusk. And, you greasy cowards, do
not dare to wear silk shirts!
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