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Henry N. Beard

Henry N. Beard (born ca. 1945) is an American humorist, one of the founders of the magazine National Lampoon and the author of several best-selling books.

Beard, a great-grandson of Vice President John C. Breckinridge, was born into a well-to-do family and grew up at the Westbury Hotel on East 69th Street in Manhattan. His relationship with his parents was cool, to judge by his quip "I never saw my mother up close."

He attended the Taft School, where he was a leader at the humor magazine, and he decided to become a humorous writer after reading Catch-22.

He then went to Harvard University from which he graduated in 1967 and joined its humor magazine, the Harvard Lampoon, which circulated nationally. Much of the credit for the Lampoon's success during the mid 1960s is given to Beard and Douglas Kenney, who was in the class a year after Beard's. In 1968, Beard and Kenney wrote the successful parody Bored of the Rings.

In 1969, Beard, Kenney and Rob Hoffman became the founding editors of the National Lampoon, which reached a monthly circulation of over 830,000 in 1974 (and the October issue of that year topped a million sales). One of Beard's short stories published there, "The Last Recall", was included in the 1973 Best Detective Stories of the Year. During the early 1970s, Beard was also in the Army Reserve, which he hated.

In 1975 the three founders cashed in on a buy-out agreement for National Lampoon; and Beard left the magazine. After an "unhappy" attempt at screenwriting, he turned to writing humorous books.


“He would have finished Goddam off then and there, but pity stayed his hand. 'It's a pity I've run out of bullets,' he thought.”
Henry N. Beard
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“And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, 'Do I shed?' and, 'Do I shed?'Time to turn back and stretch out on the bed,And give myself a bath before I'm fed --(They will say: 'It's the short-haired ones I prefer.')My flea collar buckled neatly in my fur,My expression cool and distant but softened by a gentle purr --(They will say: 'I'm allergic to his fur!')Do I dareJump up on the table?In an instant there is timeFor excursions and inversions that will make me seem unstable."(From The Love Song of J. Morris Housecat)”
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“Let us roam then, you and I,When the evening is splayed out across the sky[...]Paths that follow like a nagging accusationOf a minor violationTo lead you to the ultimate reproof ...Oh, do not say, 'Bad kitty!'Let us go and prowl the city.In the rooms the cats run to and froAuditioning for a Broadway show."(From The Love Song of J. Morris Housecat)”
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“From CATS ARE KIND"A man said to the universe,'Sir, I exist!''Excellent,' replied the universe,'I've been looking for someone to take care of my cats.”
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“From CATS ARE KIND"I saw a dog pursuing automobiles;On and on he sped.I was puzzled by this;I accosted the dog.'If you catch one,' I said'What will you do with it?''Dumb cat,' he cried,And ran on.”
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“If you can try to nap where someone's sitting,Although there is another empty chair,Then rub against his ankle without quittingUntil he rises from your favorite lair;If you can whine and whimper by a portalUntil the bolted door is opened wide,Then howl as if you've got a wound that's mortalUntil he comes and lets you back inside;If you can give a guest a nasty spiking,But purr when you are petted by a thief;If you can find the food not to your likingBecause they put some cheese in with the beef;If you can leave no proffered hand unbitten,And pay no heed to any rule or ban,then all will say you are a Cat, my kitten.And -- which is more -- you'll make a fool of Man!”
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“Mealtime"A mousie squealing in a trapWoke me from my morning nap.Wasn't he so very sweetTo tell me it was time to eat?"(From A CAT'S GARDEN OF VERSES)”
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“Ah, fish, there is no fareQuite like a flounder! They surely will not missA piece or two from stacks of sole like this;I'll steal a few, but leave the lion's share.Look! the lamplight on the lane is prettyThey're back from walking out on Dover Beach.I think I'll hide and spare myselpf the speech,For we are in a world untouched by pityWhere ignorant humans curse the kitty."(From Dover Sole)”
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“You can never know where I am or what I am,But I am good company to you nonetheless,And really do regret I broke your inkwell."(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”
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“The noisy jay swoops by and reviles me, he complains of my meow and my malingering.I too am not a bit subdued, I too am uncontrollable,I sound my splenetic yowl over the roof of the house."(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”
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“Behold the day-break!I awaken you by sitting on your chest and purring in your face,I stir you with muscular paw-prods, I rouse you with toe-bites,Walt, you have slept enough, why don't you get up?"(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”
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“I situate myself, and seat myself,And where you recline I shall recline,For every armchair belonging to you as good as belongs to me.I loaf and curl up my tailI yawn and loaf at my ease after rolling in the catnip patch."(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”
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“The End of the Raven"On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slantingI awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.'Raven's very tasty,' thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor.'There is nothing I like more.'[...]Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he utteredIn a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -- 'Nevermore.'While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore --Only this and not much more.”
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“To a Vase"How do I break thee? Let me count the ways.I break thee if thou art at any heightMy paw can reach, when, smarting from some slight,I sulk, or have one of my crazy days.I break thee with an accidental grazeOr twitch of tail, if I should take a fright.I break thee out of pure and simple spiteThe way I broke the jar of mayonnaise.I break thee if a bug upon thee sits.I break thee if I'm in a playful mood,And then I wrestle with the shiny bits.I break thee if I do not like my food.And if someone they shards together fits,I'll break thee once again when thou art glued.”
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“Abyssinias"I met a traveler from an antique landWho said: A huge four-footed limestone formSits in the desert, sinking in the sand.Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm,Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar bandAnd feline traits the sculptor well portrayed:The bearing of a born aristocrat,The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.And on its base, in long-dead alphabets,These words are set: "Reward for missing cat!His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets;I, Ozymandias, will a fortune payFor his return. he heard me speak of vets --O foolish King! And so he ran away.”
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“The Prologue to TERRITORY LOST"Of cats' first disobedience, and the heightOf that forbidden tree whose doom'd ascentBrought man into the world to help us downAnd made us subject to his moods and whims,For though we may have knock'd an apple looseAs we were carried safely to the ground,We never said to eat th'accursed thing,But yet with him were exiled from our placeWith loss of hosts of sweet celestial miceAnd toothsome baby birds of paradise,And so were sent to stray across the earthAnd suffer dogs, until some greater CatRestore us, and regain the blissful yard,Sing, heavenly Mews, that on the ancient banksOf Egypt's sacred river didst inspireThat pharaoh who first taught the sons of menTo worship members of our feline breed:Instruct me in th'unfolding of my tale;Make fast my grasp upon my theme's dark threadsThat undistracted save by naps and snacksI may o'ercome our native reticenceAnd justify the ways of cats to men.”
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“Hamlet's Cat's Soliloquy"To go outside, and there perchance to stayOr to remain within: that is the question:Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer The cuffs and buffets of inclement weatherThat Nature rains on those who roam abroad,Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,And so by dozing melt the solid hoursThat clog the clock's bright gears with sullen timeAnd stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stareOutdoors, and by a stare to seem to stateA wish to venture forth without delay,Then when the portal's opened up, to standAs if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep;To choose not knowing when we may once more Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,And going out and coming in were madeAs simple as the breaking of a bowl,What cat would bear the houselhold's petty plagues,The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,The trampled tail, and all the daily shocksThat fur is heir to, when, of his own will,He might his exodus or entrance makeWith a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear,Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,But that the dread of our unheeded cries And scraches at a barricaded doorNo claw can open up, dispels our nerveAnd makes us rather bear our humans' faultsThan run away to unguessed miseries?Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;And thus the bristling hair of resolutionIs softened up with the pale brush of thought,And since our choices hinge on weighty things,We pause upon the threshold of decision.”
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