Damn You, Hearst!

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Damn You, Hearst!

From the Bed-chamber of T. Herman Zweibel.
The Zweibel Estate.
To Mr. William Randolph Hearst.
San Simeon, California.

Dear Bastard:
As you, I and every-one else in the Republic knows, you are only building that palace at San Simeon because you wish to emulate my own enormous and imposing mansion here out East. You are always trying to up-stage me, whether in the pages of your fish-wrapper scandal-sheets or through your own political ambitions. You would not have tried to run for President if I had not become Governor of this state. And your acquisition of a mistress, that cheap blonde floozy Ziegfeld Girl Marion Davies, was clearly based on my unfruitful attempts to woo the lovely Miss Lillian Gish.

Even your biggest-selling news story, the Fatty Arbuckle manslaughter case, was inspired by The Onion's attempt to pin a brutal pie-throwing on one of the comics in the moving-daguerreotype comedies. Unfortunately, we never positively ascertained the man's identity, other than "The One Fellow With The Big Walrus Mustache And Derby Hat Who Threw A Pie In That Lady's Face." This happened in the years before the actors and actresses of the moving-daguerreotypes were clearly identified before the commencement of the story.

Then there is that lousy little Chicago newspaper-man, Robert McCormick, who immodestly insists on having every-one call him "Colonel." What is not well-known is that young McCormick learned his trade at my very knee, having been an office-boy at The Onion back in the late 1890s. I later found out that he himself was a member of a news-paper publishing family and that he only sought employment at The Onion in order to learn my secrets! He even cops my own I-hate-everything-except-America philosophy and stuffs his Chicago Tribunal with more advertisements than news-copy, just like The Onion.

Damn you, Hearst! Despite my rantings against you, you continue to hold some sort of hypnotic sway over the citizens of the Republic. If I alone cannot convince the American people of your wickedness, I hope that some-day, some other conscientious individual will really take you to the cleaners. Perhaps this individual will make a devastating moving-daguerreotype picture-play based upon your life, exposing you in all your corruption and debauchery.

Sincerely yours,

T. Herman Zweibel


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