Not All Awful Books ...

The website Awful Library Books points us to just what the title indicates. For example:


Rules to Be Cool from 2001, which I'm sure resulted in dozens of cool-rule-obeying youngsters.

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The Central Youth Employment Executive of Her Majesty's Stationery Office presents The Mastic Asphalt Spreader, with a deliciously attractive cover.

A Good Family Crest

Le Febve de Vivy

Crest of the Le Febve de Vivy family, about which I know little other than they are Swiss and Belgian and like cute cartoonish birdies.

Mesmerist and Handwriting Teacher

[Post updated-- scroll down for more info.]

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This is a scan of an 1844 printed poster advertising a performance by a traveling mesmerist. I found it recently clearing out some old work and sadly I can't conjure the mesmerist's name for certain. I believe it was Charles Webster, an itinerant showman. If I recall correctly, at various times he taught handwriting, too.

It's a lovely old advertising print, I think. Click the image to enlarge and see it more clearly.
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Update: With the help of a friend, we've recalled the name of the mesmerist: Jonathan Palmer Webster, aka J Palmer Webster.

Webster was from a farming family in New Hampshire. He set up a penmanship school called Webster's Academy of Penmanship and Stylographical Card Drawing. A relative gave him funds for medical school, which he attended in New York until the money ran out.

He also called himself an "Itinerant professor of phrenology," and wrote a book about that science.

In the early 1840s, stage mesmerism was a popular entertainment. P.T. Barnum and other impresarios presented regular exhibitions.

Webster began performing stage mesmerism, particularly in Virginia, the Carolinas and New Orleans, where this print is from. In towns where he exhibited he also offered mesmerism classes at as much as $50 a pop -- a hefty charge in those days. Sometimes a clairvoyant named Frederick would perform with him.

For stage hypnotists of the era, clairvoyants would be put into a trance state and see things at a distance or in the future. Sometimes they would act as healers by "seeing" into the bodies of audience members and identifying diseased organs.

In 1849 Webster migrated from New Orleans to San Francisco (Gold Rush, perhaps?). There he apparently worked as a physician despite not having completed his education. After that I know nothing of J. Palmer Webster, a very minor figure who left behind some great handbills and posters.

Titus, it's your anniversary!

Titus Oates, with a name that sounds like a country singer's, was a scoundrel. He fabricated the Popish Plot -- which led to the execution of over fifteen innocent men and which exacerbated an anti-Catholic mood into a frenzy -- and committed sundry bad deeds that were more prosaic.

His punishments include something I was unfamiliar with:

He [James II] had Oates retried and sentenced for perjury to annual pillory, loss of clerical dress, and imprisonment for life. Oates was taken out of his cell wearing a hat with the text "Titus Oates, convicted upon full evidence of two horrid perjuries" and put into the pillory at the gate of Westminster Hall (now New Palace Yard) where passers-by pelted him with eggs. The next day he was pilloried in London and a third day was stripped, tied to a cart, and whipped from Aldgate to Newgate

That was probably too good for him considering the standards of the day. But yearly pillory was something I hadn't considered before.

It is nearly the anniversary of his birth (15 September 1649). I'm curious as to what was the day (or days, or week, or month) for his annual pillory. Would have made for a whale of a birthday celebration if they combined them.

Oates went from penury to having Whitehall apartments and allowances, to various punishments, to a small royal allowance, then a suspension of that allowance, then a bigger royal allowance of £ 300. Ultimately, I understand, he died.

Happy Titus Oates day!

It's the time for scoundrels to whip a froth into a frenzy, human suffering be damned.

Simulating the Turnip Harvest for Fun

Turnip Strength Tester, a Soviet arcade game where one attempts to pull a stand-in for a turnip from a stand-in for the ground. Available for play at the Museum of Soviet Video Games.

This is not a jape.

That museum is infinitely cheerier than the North Korean Arcade, which hasn't even a mangelwurzel, real or fake.

Old Quips

While going through the belongings in an old house, I found a small booklet of fragile yellowed paper.

Wehman Bros' Vaudeville Gags and Jokes, published by Wehman Bros, 126 Park Row in 1916.

Maybe I'll scan part of it sometime. Many of the individual bits have been clipped out so the book in some parts looks like a collection of ribbons with jokes on them.

The material is scatter-shot (perhaps all the best gags were snipped decades ago). Most of the jokes rely heavily on puns, some simple:

- What did the vegetarian say when called upon to offer grace?
- He said: "Lettuce pray."

And some spectacularly labored and askew:

Billy and Geraldine sat on the porch.
Billy said: "I like your company Gerry."
Gurgled Geraldine: "Me, too."
Whereupon Billy became a holding company and drew up his articles of incorporation so close that Geraldine went into the hands of a receiver.

Here are a few more.

I've gone into a new business: making artificial limbs.
That so? How is it?
Oh, rushing. I put on two new hands yesterday.

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I think my client will lose his case.
Have you exhausted all the means at you disposal?
No, but I've exhausted all the means at his disposal.

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- My father has a new kind of typewriter -- he fills it with ink.
- My father has the kind you fill with wine.

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I have a horse and taught him to talk.
I never knew a horse could talk.
The only thing is you can't hear him very well.
Why?
Because he talks horse.

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My flight is boarding, so I'll leave it at that. Maybe I'll return to this book soon.

Happy gags to all.