Joke Issue:
Let me tell you something: there ain’t a straight–shooter in Hollywood more ace than Charlie Chaplin!
I was no butter–and–egg man before the crash. Heck, I was born with a sack tied to a stick over my shoulder! I know the ropes when times get tough — but those hoity–toity Wall Street types sure don’t!
Why else would they jump from their swanky offices in the sky with perfectly good shoes on their feet? How bad could life be if you’ve got a delicious pair of Ferragamos?
I started scouting out high–rises after I first tasted the boot of one unkind copper who didn’t take to my pan–handling. “Not bad!” I said to myself. Next time I saw a pair of disembodied dress shoes, I wiped the splatter off and decided to fry them up in my trashcan cooker.
Charlie Chaplin had no such luck in The Gold Rush, which is in my opinion the finest film since The Birth of a Nation.
The poor little tramp was forced to eat one of his nasty old frostbitten boots — a far cry from the Gucci and Prada I’m used to!
Take it from me: cook up one of these tasty morsels and share it with your friends or children. You’re going to be in like Flynn.
—William Longhorse
