I Am Ready For My Close-Up

Of the many Wonders that grace our modern World, surely there are Few to compare with the Photo-Graph. Our ancestors would surely Collapse in Apoplectic Fits were a modern Man to essay explaining the intricate Chemical Processes involved in capturing the ethereal Footprint of Light upon a Plate. I marvel Daily at those Specimens of the Art gracing my study. They lend a daring, if someone shockingly Modern, counterpoint to the Paintings.

It is thus ever with Excitement when my Calendar informs me that it is once more Time to go to the Photographist's Studio to have my Portrait taken. This splendid Event occurs every Friday: the sessions must be held then so the diligent Craftsman can then labor the Weekend through to have the new Plate ready for next week's Issue. In this manner, I offer a fresh Visage to our readers each Week - a timely View, if you will, of my own humble Countenance.

What is particularly Remarkable about this Photographist's art is the Unwavering attention to Detail. The mahogany sides of his Camera gleam like polished Wine; the folds of the Lens-cloth are ever Military-Crisp. So remarkable, in fact, is this man's Skill that each week's Portrait looks astonishingly like the one Before.

"But uncle Zeke," complains Ephram when I return from my Photo-Session weekly, "why don't you just use the same picture each week? They all look exactly the same."

Why, Ephram, my Boy, so do I! Moreover, a fresh weekly Composition is Vital for our publication. It is what our public Wants and Deserves. We use the same paltry letters of the Alphabet in every Story; look not to us for a novel version of the T or the W, friends, their Form is Intact! Yet we Re-Compose these puzzle pieces weekly into new Stories, making Anew that which is in essence Immortal and Timeless. Like the very Atoms of our Being, each element of our Publication is to be Constituted Anew every Week. It is our Job - nay, our Duty!

Moreoever, I am certain that the Subtleties of my Mood and Mind are conveyed to the Observant reader. Look at this week, a menacing Glint arises in the depths of my Eyes! - look there in a Previous issue, a wry Twitch of Amusement in the Mustache! They are like Snowflakes: no two Alike, a sequential Torrent of Spontenaity and Artistic Expression.

Indeed, just like the Days of my Week - ever Changing, ever Different! I never know What to expect! Now if you shall Excuse me, it is time for my weekly visit to the Barber. I wish to look Extra-Fresh in next week's Portrait.