What Is This Place?

This is not your grandmother’s newspaper (unless she was an eavesdropping genius with impeccable penmanship). This is the Lady Johnson Letters, a satirical society dispatch where locals — like you — submit the best overheard stories, mysterious observations, and petty drama from around your region. Anonymously, of course. We're not blowing whistles.

​​​​The Art & Order of Participation:

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Whisper It Here -
Subscribers, post your unlimited tales. You’ll remain nameless — but not blameless.

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We Quill It Into Elegance - 
Each month, Lady Johnson refines your post submissions into a polished Regency-style newsletter, complete with dramatics, satire, and the occasional scandalous ellipsis…

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Hear It, Read It, Love It -
Every dispatch includes an esteemed ledger arriving by way of the electric post — yes, that most modern of marvels, the email — sent directly to your inbox once a month like clockwork from a well-wound timepiece. But whisper it gently, for greater things are in motion... As our society of readers grows — noble, nosy, and delightfully numerous — we shall unveil a printed edition of the Ledger, bound in ribbon and respectability, and delivered by post like the secrets of old: sealed, stamped, and scandalous.

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Choose Your District (State) -

We’ve divided the nation into civilized districts (or as moderns call them, “states” and soon to come “counties”) — so whether you're from the Rolling Hill Country, the High Deserts of the West, or The Everglades of Florida we daren’t name, you’ll read whispers close to home.

 

Subscribe to the Dispatch -​

District Tiers: Sip the Tea. Savour a Taste. Hear the Whispers Within Your State. Allow me to present the first tiers of our most ambitious endeavour—a modest beginning, indeed, yet brimming with promise. For now, our whispers and tidings are tenderly arranged by state, offering each subscriber a delightful taste of the tales that flutter upon the lips of their fellow citizens. But do not be misled by our present intimacy—for this humble arrangement is but the prologue. As our community flourishes, so too shall our pages, branching into counties to better capture the nuance and nearness of local discourse and dare I say, the winds of ambition do not stop at state lines. Oh no, dear reader, the horizon stretches far beyond. We intend, in due time, to spill our ink across the land. For while we may keep our ledgers tidy and our beginnings quaint, our vision is anything but small. Lady Johnson's Whispers are dispatched monthly, where you subscribers, receive monthly dispatches of the latest drama, audio narrations, archive access, and Lady Johnson’s personal thanks (delivered telepathically). 

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Write It, Read It, Repeat 

Lady Johnson thrives on whispers, and you, dear reader, are positively brimming with them. Whether your Cowboy Capital has a case of the missing blue jeans, a certain local official — be it judge, commissioner, or another titled figure behind polished desks and polished lies — has found themselves tangled in quite the fiscal foxtrot, or someone at the church potluck is claiming store-bought meringue is homemade — we want it. 

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Submit your tales unlimitedly. Claim no credit. Take great satisfaction.

Lady Johnson is an independent, satirical newsletter and is not affiliated with, sponsored by, or endorsed by any media, television program, production company, or publisher.