Summary

Wallace Irvin Hashimura Togo, Domestic Scientist

Say me.
“Nobody expect understood Grand Opera in any language,” he snagger. “Be reasonable like Sherman Law.”
“What are grand opera for, if not?” I ask to know.
“Several things. To give folks wrong impression of history and confuse them about love while admiring Smart Setters in diamond horseshoe,” he define. “This has satisfied Art for 311 years—why should you require something else all of a sudden?”
“Then why would it not be just as good for Americans if sung in Chinese, Swedish or German?” I negotiate.
“Because of patriotism,” he define. “Every man prefer to be puzzled in his own language.”
Source: Gutenberg

Wallace Irvin Hashimura Togo, Domestic Scientist

At lastly dinner set himself on table while Hon. Cluck devoured big dinner amidst usual steam-roller grumbel about my unhappy cooking.
“Can’t you recall some sweet language to make marriage pleasant?” renag Mrs. Cluck.
“Marriage are only pleasant when he are asleep,” he peruse, looking expectfully to Mawruss Chair.
When it come to pie time, I could already observe dormatory expression of lodging-house crowling over fatty face of Hon. Boss. Yawns by him. Stretches. At lastly, he arose upwards, lit cigar, rubbed his tired business eyes & started for library.
Source: Gutenberg

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