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It is a wonder how I managed to escape the grand era of prohibition without being brought to jail once! My bootlegged alcohol (Including rum, whiskey, and of course brandy) was peddled wherever there was a speakeasy to listen. It was quite popular I must say, and it was how I made my riches during that period. |
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Great Gatsby! Here is my miserable Negro wretch George. I found him on the streets one day as he and his companions- a dirty old mutt which he idiocally named "Old Dog" and a loveable chimpanzee named Bonzo- danced for nickels. Against my better judgement I took him and his friends to my estate in one of my Model T's. After this, the three of us experienced many misadventures which resulted in one of my Model T's being demolished, a gang of coloreds taking residence in my mansion, the exploitation of my beloved |
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bootlegging operation, the discovery of a scandelous affair to a flapper that poor Frankie and Bonzo were forced to witness, and many many other fixes. On the other hand, if it were not for this dispicable excuse for a man-servant, I would have been brought to trial on several occasions. He was the perfect scapegoat if I do say. |
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The closest thing I ever had to a son is my dear Bonzo. I raised him like he was my true heir. Complete with the Johnson Family Monacle, the top hat and a perfect tuxedo, he was the finest Gentleman east of the Mississippi. I weep everytime i think about my dear Bonzo and all the happy times we shared...breaking up worker strikes, driving my Model T, employing negroes free of charge. Those were the days... |
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Onward to more photo-stills |
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