Frederick is going to Wondercon! By which I mean that I’m going to Wondercon. If you see a fellow in a tricorn running around the floor on Saturday bemoaning the absence of the Lackey Stables, it’s probably me, so come on by and say howdy!
Second only to my love of 1920s ad-man patter is my love of 1930s farmspeak. Not that farmspeak really changes all that much. “It’s cold today, we can’t cover cost, and there will be no one to close our eyes when we die.” Whether it’s a Bjornson character or Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho, the talk is pretty much the same.
But there IS something extra special about 1930s American farmspeak. Not only do you have the litany of God and Nature Cursing the Labor of My Hands, but also the desperate belief that, somehow, things will be just fine, that The System Cares About Me and Will Never Let Me Be Reduced to Bottling Dog Piss To Wash Down These Fistfulls of Grass.