a common sense appeal for better suicide

COREY FORD

an optimistic preface to a forthcoming handbook on twenty-one means of ending it all

• EDITOR'S NOTE: On this page Vanity Fair is privileged to reproduce for the first time several graphic illustrations from a forthcoming brochure by M. Bruller entitled Twenty-One Ways of Committing Suicide, which endeavors to interpret a few of the simpler methods of self-destruction for the novice. In an accompanying preface, which is reprinted here, Mr. Corey Ford seizes the opportunity to inaugurate a national campaign to put Suicide on a sound common-sense basis. This attractive book will be issued by Covici-Friede, appropriately enough, on Saint Valentine's Day.

• I have been thinking over the whole subject of Suicide lately—ever since the Wall Street Crash, in fact—and personally I have come to the conclusion that most people have the wrong idea of it entirely. Say "Suicide" to most people and they will wrinkle their noses and go "Ugh!" and assume an expression of acute disgust, as though you had just told them you were an uncle-lover or put maple-syrup on your poached eggs. As far as they are concerned, a Suicide in the family is like discovering that their grandfather is the illegitimate son of Benedict Arnold.

I think this is too bad. I think such a prejudice is distinctly unfair. I am not naturally bloodthirsty or cruel; I give lumps of sugar to truck-horses, and frequently help old ladies or children across the street (this is the best gag for getting through the traffic myself that I have discovered yet) ; but still I feel that there is a lot to be said for Suicides. The idea, I am convinced, is basically sound.

The whole trouble with Suicides today, as I see it, is that they are usually committed by the wrong people. It is not the Suicide that is at fault; it is the person who attempts it. The obvious candidate for self-destruction will cling on to life with tooth and nail, while the person who actually removes himself will prove invariably, according to the press, to be the conscientious and hard-working father of seven starving children. Naturally in the course of years this has built up an almost fanatical prejudice against the whole subject in the minds of our thinking people, -which is not only biased and unjust, but which has succeeded up to now in obscuring an excellent working suggestion for the improvement of society at large.

For example, I have known some perfectly dandy Suicides, Suicides who were simply cut out by Nature to be Suicides, ideal Suicides, Suicides who, the moment I first glimpsed their bright vapid smile, or felt their hearty slap upon my back, or heard them play three notes upon the piccolo, would make me clasp my hands ecstatically and murmur: "There goes the perfect Suicide, so help me! So help me!" And yet in every case these logical selections for self-destruction, far from being proud of their God-given qualifications for the perfect Suicide, have proved the very first to resent any implication whatsoever of their vast natural fitness for such a destiny. I was talking over this curious fact only yesterday with a friend named Reepers. "Reepers," I said, "you are a pretty undesirable sort of person, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Reepers.

"You play practical jokes over the telephone. You wear bow-ties that snap. You peel your sunburn in public. You kiss babies. You still use the expression 'Let's make whoopee!' You unfold the extra seat in a taxicab so that you bang the person behind you on the shins. You crush out your cigarettestub on a plate with butter on it."

"I admit it," said Reepers.

"In other words," I pointed out, "you are a pest, a nuisance and an unmitigated bore, you clutter up the house, and the world would be a whole lot better off if this distinctly unpleasant personality of yours were removed from our midst. Am I right?"

• "You're right, old man," said Reepers, shaking my hand. "You're perfectly right." "In that case," I said cheerfully, "I have here an attractive handbook entitled 'TwentyOne Practical Methods of Committing Suicide', which suggests a number of attractive methods of self-destruction for a novice like yourself. I should particularly recommend for your perusal Chapter Seven, which describes suicide by means of precipitation from an elevated site—"

By way of answer Reepers drew himself up to his full height and glared at me indignantly.

"If you are suggesting that I take my own life," he said coldly, "I consider that an insult." And with that he turned on his heel and left the room, and has not spoken to me since.

And it is this unfortunate attitude of Reepers which has brought Suicide into general disrepute today. Such prudishness is to be deplored. It should be obvious to anyone, except Reepers, that his removal by his own hands serves merely to spare someone else the trouble. If the man who practices upon the cornet by an open window every morning at six-thirty would devote the same amount of effort and study to some practical laboratory experiments with the subject of Suicide, it would doubtless save his neighbor the necessity of terminating his career involuntarily with a sawed-off shotgun. In other words, if there were better and wiser Suicides, there would be fewer Murders, our crime wave would subside, our police-courts would be emptied, and our jails could be devoted henceforth to charitable enterprises like Dog-Shows or Church Bazaars. It is the duty of every loyal citizen to revive this ancient Art, and put our Suicides henceforth on a sound, common-sense basis.

In this patriotic emergency, therefore, I am particularly encouraged to note the appearance of this admirable brochure by M. Bruller, the French satiric artist. I have suspected for a long time that a lack of exact knowledge on the subject was the cause of much of the bungling and messy attempts at self-destruction which we encounter today; and I hope that this little volume, with its graphic illustrations, carefully scientific text, and copious notes, will achieve the widest possible circulation. And so I am offering in conclusion the following Suicide Test for those who suspect they have suicide possibilities, and contemplate turning the information in this volume to practical use.

• For some time the number of Unfortunate Suicides, or self-destruction from insufficient and unworthy causes, has far exceeded the total of Fortunate Suicides, or self-destruction from logical causes that could not fail to satisfy everybody. Bad debts, bankruptcy or business reverses have terminated many a blooming career; dishonour and disgrace have exacted their heavy tolls; and the shelves of literature, not to mention the tabloids, have been filled from .time immemorial with examples of disappointed persons who Died for Love. I do not need to point out that these Unfortunate Suicides are a prostitution of a noble Art. Brokers who leap out of windows, or ladies who slit their wrists because of a thwarted passion, are only discrediting, for purely selfish motives, the greatest natural means of elimination for the relief of society since the invention of the fig.

It is my belief that this confusion of Causes may be due to the fact that people who possess some ideal qualification for Suicide, like people with sex-appeal, a genius for poetry, or bad table manners, are seldom aware that they have it. With this possibility in mind, therefore, I am suggesting below a series of test questions, by which the prospective candidate may determine conclusively whether or not he is a Natural Suicide. If he is able to answer any one of these questions in the affirmative, then he may rest assured that there is a social obligation upon him to make away with himself by violence, as soon as possible. In order to assist this novice even further, I have indicated in each case the particular chapter and form of self-destruction, as described in M. Bruller's handbook, which would seem most admirably suited to his particular situation:

1. Have you ever posed for an advertising testimonial endorsing cold cream, cigarettes, yeast or a sweater? (Chap. VI: Suicide by Means of Hanging.)

2. Do you like (a) bread pudding, (b) junket, (c) spinach? (Chap. XVIII: Suicide by Means of Burial Alive.)

• 3. Are you accustomed to pasting up your luggage with gaily-coloured stickers of the hotels which you have visited in Europe? (Chap. VIII: Suicide by Means of Poison.) 4Do you carry an umbrella in a crowd, thus neatly gouging out the eye of the person behind you, dripping water down the coat-collar of the person in front of you, or (if the umbrella is folded under your arm) catching the tip in the trouser cuff of the person beside you* and tripping him up? (Chap. XIV: Suicide by Means of Explosion.)

5. Are you one of those girls who wear khaki bloomers and high French heels and hike along the Palisades on Sunday afternoons? (Chap. II: Suicide by Means of Prolonged Total Immersion.)

6. Do you wear one glove and carry the other? (Chap. XI: Suicide by Means of Applied Pressure.)

7. Do you take your unfinished cocktail in with you to dinner? (Chap. XX: Suicide by Means of a Deficiency of Alimentation.)

8. Do you entertain your guests with homemade movies of Junior taking a bath, Junior asleep with Mopsie, Junior laughing, or Junior growing bored and crawling out of the film entirely? (Chap. I: Suicide by Means of Blowing Out the Brains.)

9. Do you use asparagus tongs? (Chap. IV: Suicide by Means of Carbon Asphyxiation.)

10. Do you paste pictures of diving girls, cotton monkeys, or college pennants in the rear window of your automobile? (Chap. IX: Suicide by Means of Arterial Section.)

n. Do you wear a little feather in your hatband? (Chap. XIX: Suicide by Means of Voluntary Contagion.)

12. Are you (a) Bishop Cannon, (b) Mrs. Gann, (c) Senator Borah, (d) Rudy Vallee, (e) Henry Ford, (f) a member of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, the Daughters of the American Revolution, or the Methodist Board of Temperance, Prohibition and Public Morals? (Chap. XVII: Suicide by Means of Rolling.)

In other words, I am convinced that if all the ideal Suicides were to follow M. Bruller's practical suggestions and remove themselves voluntarily, not only would the world be a better place to live in but there would be practically no circulation for this entertaining little book. I know that I for one would never be here to write the preface to the brochure. I don't know about M. Bruller.