My dear sirs at the London Investigator
You recently placed a satirical article about the state of affairs in our noble country into your humor section (the funny pages as my dear aunt Mabel calls them). I must express sincere concern over this move, as it suggests that the Investigator is run by less than well-bred men, who do not realize the difference between humor and humor. As a contemporary of mine (albeit an american contemporary, shall we lets not hold that against him) said recently: against the gale of humor there is naught which can remain standing. In the same vein, your humor section is rather like a gallery of comic relief, or a museum of modern arms; satire belongs in a gallery no more than war in a museum (though swords lay in both).
The article was mine! Have I offended my country, then I shall fall upon my own satire, but gentlemen, please read what is writ: while the form is satire, the content is a serious criticism which demands the attention of the men of this age. Since earnest appeal falls flat, and our leaders charge forward with the backward tenets of yesteryear, a new tac was prescribed. Let any man who reads this think now "Oh, this belongs elsewhere", but rather have him think "Oh, this belongs to me; am I an offender? How can I make amends..."
Gentlemen, I will sit here and wait for the world to turn; thousands of apologies if I expire before my cause is met.
[By Gentlemen I mean all people!]
