Rainy Days Are Welcome, it proclaims, because of the joy of returning home to a Pianola Piano. I have a strong feeling that the natives around here, if asked whether rainy days are welcome at the moment - with or without the promise of a pianola performance - the answer I'd get would be a resounding "(expletive deleted) no".
Haven't times changed since 1914? These days it is difficult to imagine a working man* sustaining himself* through his* labours in order to return home to the joys of a mechanical duet produced by a primitive musical machine. And another thing, why is his* wife* tinkering around with a pianola rather than beavering away in the kitchen cooking his dinner? I think he ought to lock the keyboard and take the key with him next time he leaves the house. Call me a chauvinist (you're a chauvinist, Parsons) but to my way of thinking a hearty beef casserole beats a Bach serenade any day.
(*Substitute woman, herself, her and husband as appropriate).
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