Thursday, August 21, 2008

The Papist Ramirez Gala Mockery Box Social and Cotillion: Part IV - Messr. W. P. Foxtrotty

Since the Potato Famine that has cursed our shores with herds of the filthy Irish, your Mass Hysteria editors have pondered the best way to bid adieu to the Dread Pirate Ramirez. However, inspired by the genius of William Pitt the Elder, we've come up with the perfect solution for our Manuel catharsis. We present to you the Papist Ramirez Gala Mockery Box Social and Cotillion (catch up on Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 if you must):

What ho, dear friends! It is I, Worthington Praseodymium Foxtrotty IV! You may be familiar with my dispatches for the Boston Daily American and Irish-Abuser on the subject of the local bases-ball club association, the Boston Red Stockings. Assuming you unwashed filth have the mental capacity for the skill of reading! But I jest, my dear friends, for tonight is a night of frivolity and jocularity, with much wit taken at the expense of the Dread Pirate and Damnable Papist Ramirez, formerly of said Red Stockings!


Friends, Bostonians, countrymen... where art thou to-night? For all I see before me at this Box Social and Cotillion are wretched day-laborers and assorted Spaniards, permeated with the mud, stench, and after-birth of the Dor-chester Irish slums; the very dregs of God's creation which one day, may He so bless us justly, shall be scoured from His visage through the noble science of Eugenics! But dare I say, the least of these filth-urchins in God's eyes surely was the Papist Ramirez!

I am not one to make insinuations based upon parentage or bloodlines, mind you, but I have it upon the best and most reliable of authorities that Ramirez is the son of a whore who repeatedly partakes of knowledge-congress in the Biblical sense with naught but swarthy Corsicans and the occasional Aegyptian. No man shall ever know which of these sub-humans spread his demonic seed and fertilized the womb that produced Ramirez! Dare one speculate that it was the penetrating stench of this bastardness that caused opposing pitchers-of-ball to surrender bases-hits to the Dread Papist, and not his mighty cudgel? Oho!

Ramirez Mater

In truth, friends, I do not wish to cast aspersions upon the other members of the Red Stockings, disreputable though they may be, for I have befriended some of those gentlemen in the course of my road-travels with the club. For instance, I have the utmost respect for the Free Negro Ortiz, with whom I have contested many spirited games of whist during those interminable rail-car excursions to feral outposts such as Le De Troit, the Cleve-land, and New Amsterdam. (I have also tutored him in English, and provided him with a second-hand serge waistcoat to wear to Sunday services.) Nor have I shunned the company of the Greek Youkilis, even after learning of his Hebrite heritage. However, this respect naturally does not extend to the sordid activities of Ramirez! Not since the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah have there been such libertine escapades! Why, even Old Pitch himself would blush at the perversions on display around this damnable Papist! Due to the presence of ladies in the audience tonight, I cannot in good conscience elaborate upon such topics, for surely there is nary enough laudanum and smelling-salts in all of Suffolk County to revive them should their delicate ears be pierced by tales of Ramirez's depravity!

Alas, now my ignoble foil Ramirez has fled, as have many of his lazy Spaniard kinsmen before him, to the Papist outpost referred to in their guttural ur-language as El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reigna de los Angeles de Porciuncula. One hopes that he has obtained honest work as some sort of agricultural hired hand, for surely the wretched desert dwellers in the Alta California have little interest in the bases-ball. Although it may call both my breeding and my education into question, I must admit that I shall miss the hearty laugh of the Papist, and his carefree Spaniard attitude. I will not, however, miss the buggery, nor his constant infestations of lice, nor the near-certainty that where Ramirez went, dysentery and/or the syphilis would soon follow.

I have been instructed by my patrons for the night, the purveyors of something called a "mass hysteria" -- which is not, to my surprise, some sort of madness peculiar to the fairer sex, but instead, it appears, a rather coarse and plebean journal-digest of the goings-on in the Boston sporting community -- that I should not be remiss in poking the fun at their expense as well. Lest I sully the Foxtrotty name by failing to reciprocate their largesse, I shall note that I have in the past encountered three of their lot. One struck me as a bovine lummox; one was a shrill painted whore; and the third was either a greedy Jew or a Frenchman -- I cannot tell which, and I am not sure which would strike me with more repugnance. A fourth, whom I have not had the intense misfortune to meet, apparently operates a local house of ill repute, and brazenly flaunts such status. (He is also rumored to be a damnable Papist and of remarkable ill breeding even by the standards of the sons of Eire.) Finally, a rumored fifth was allegedly dispatched on a departing whaler to search out the Dread Pirate Ramirez in his native Alta California; the Jew/Frenchman informed me that this gentleman has not been heard from in several weeks and is presumed shipwrecked.

And now, with my Sisyphusian task accomplished, I bid you adieu and good health! Please partake of the veal, which is surprisingly worm-free, and do not hesitate to provide generous gratuities to your scullery-maids and valets!


Zach Martin said...

the third was either a greedy Jew or a Frenchman -- I cannot tell which

You to?

Hazel Maes Landing Strip said...

and the third was either a greedy Jew or a Frenchman

Look just because I carry a bag of jew gold around my neck doesn't make me greedy.'s the nose isn't it?

futuremrsrickankiel said...