Anecdotal Evidence

Old Ketch been dead a hundred years
And now his life, his hopes, his fears,
His secret sorrows, his loves, his hates—
Now that he’s crossed those one-way gates—
Have been reduced to their extrema,
That he was a lawyer with eczema
So testifies he in an ancient ad—
The only evidence to be had
At this late date, after his fall,
That the poor old man had lived at all

[A few years ago, in researching my family history, I was going through archival records, and stumbled upon a reference to a Mr. William B. Ketcheson. It was one of those silly Victorian print advertisements; in this case, Mr. Ketcheson (a “well-known barrister in the town of Peterborough, Ontario”) was providing a testimonial as to the effectiveness of some “miracle cream” (which apparently cured him of “eczema, as well as piles”).
Imagine having that be the only thing that you’re remembered for!]


About thevenerablecorvex

I have the heart of a poet, the brain of a theoretical physicist, and the wingspan of an albatross. I am also notable for my humility.
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