Monday, October 28, 1952
A little slow writing to you today on account of I was finishing this Dripalong Daffy cartoon, which by the way is titled “My Little Duckaroo.” From the term “buckaroo” of course. “Buckaroo” is what the plains cowboys called a gaily-dressed cowhand and usually referred to a California hand. These men were usually descended from the Spanish and it was quite natural for them to wear gay clothes, even while working. The Spanish term for Cowboy is “vaquero” and in Spanish “v” is pronounced like “b”. If you’ll pronounce “vaquero” that way you’ll soon see where the term “buckaroo” originated. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll soon have the most ponderous mass of useless information a human being can heft.
I’m sending, as you can see, a small bundle of roughs left over from this picture. Thought you might enjoy seeing them. I’ll do it periodically, if you like. (My typing is absolutely impossible tody..today…I feel like I have on boxing gloves.)
Your nice fat letter arrived today and Dottie brought it down to me. Manna from heaven indeed. A good letter, an informative letter, and a welcome letter, indeed. You are making good use of your time by being alert, intelligent and keeping your eyes open and attentive.
You never did finish telling what Mr. Dan said. You got sidetracked telling us about some boy up there, what was his name again?
We had our big Rip’n Snort party at the Graham’s El Slope-o, a tremendous success. Everyone was simply knocked over by the house, the view, the weather (which was cool and magnificent), the sunset (which outdid itself in splendour), the food (which was scrumptious), and the [square]dancing and calling, which matched all the rest… A very pleasant deal all around.
I feel magnificently stupid today. Perhaps things will be better tomorrow. Perhaps my syntax, grammar, spelling and typing will improve to where I won’t sound like a member of some sloth-like sub-human species. I dare not reread this letter if I want to send it.
Excuse it, please. I plead extreme youth.