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diff --git a/old/61435-0.txt b/old/61435-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 10d58df..0000000 --- a/old/61435-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2982 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, Vol. 3, No. 25, -October, 1921, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, Vol. 3, No. 25, October, 1921 - America's Magazine of Wit, Humor and Filosophy - -Author: Various - -Editor: W. H. Fawcett - -Release Date: February 17, 2020 [EBook #61435] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BILLY'S WHIZ BANG, OCT 1921 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - -Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang, Vol. III. No. 25, October, 1921 - - - - -_Bathing Beauties_ - - -Real Photographs of the famous California Bathing Girls. Just the thing -for your den! - - Sizes 3½ × 5½ - - Positively the Best on the market. - -ASSORTMENT OF 6 for 25c or 25 for $1.00 - -Send Money Order or Stamps. Foreign money not accepted unless exchange is -included. - -_EGBERT BROTHERS_ - - Dept. W. B. 303 Buena Vista St., LOS ANGELES, CAL. - -_Wholesale agents wanted everywhere in U. S. Write for wholesale terms._ - - * * * * * - -_Subscribe Now_ - - +------------------------------- - If you like our Farmyard / Capt. Billy’s Whiz Bang, - Filosophy and Foolishness, / R.R.2, Robbinsdale, Minn. - fill in this coupon. / Enclosed is money order (or - / check) for subscription commencing - $2.50 per / with .................. issue - year. / MONTH - / - / Name ............................ - / Street ........................... - / City & State ...................... - - - - - _Captain Billy’s - Whiz Bang_ - - [Illustration] - - _America’s Magazine of - Wit, Humor and - Filosophy_ - - OCTOBER, 1921 Vol. III. No. 25 - - Published Monthly - W. H. Fawcett, Rural Route No. 2 - at Robbinsdale, Minnesota - - Entered as second-class matter May 1, 1920, at the postoffice - at Robbinsdale, Minnesota, under the Act of March 3, 1879. - - Price 25 cents $2.50 per year - - Contents of this magazine are copyrighted. Republication of any - part permitted when properly credited to Capt. Billy’s Whiz - Bang. - - “We have room for but one soul loyalty and that is loyalty to - the American people.”—Theodore Roosevelt. - - Copyright 1921 - By W. H. Fawcett - - Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang employs no solicitors. Subscriptions - may be received only at authorized news stands or by direct - mail to Robbinsdale. We join in no clubbing offers, nor do we - give premiums. Two-fifty a year in advance. - - Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and dedicated to the - fighting forces of the United States - - - - -_Drippings From the Fawcett_ - - -Some up-country contributor sends us in a lengthy “poem” under the -alluring caption, “Ode to a Jackass.” This verse libertinage starts off -something in the following fashion: - - Oh, well do I remember yet, - How very proud I used to get - When, like a little king, I’d set— - Upon my donkey. - -There are several more verses which serve as proof that out in the -rhubarbs the molasses candy is a mocker and soda pop a raging. The only -redeeming feature in free verse is its mystery. Take this thing by Ellen -Janson in “The Measure” entitled “Shadowy—Under My Window,” for example: - - Shadowy—under my window— - Your low reed sobs - Its desert love-song to the remembering stars. - Shadowy— - All the night my breasts are lilies, - My lips are passion flowers. - -Now, there you are—a nice idea, neatly handled and mysterious. Your -guess as to what Poetess Janson is driving at is as good as mine—and -both probably are wrong. Perhaps she was talking to Fred Beauvais under -her window, or Jim Stillman. Or it may have been the alley cat—a thing -sobbing in the backyard to the remembering stars. - -And so the mystery thickens like onion jelly. - - * * * * * - -We let Gus read both these poems—the “Ode to a Jackass” and -“Shadowy—Under My Window”—and Gus called the Shadowy stuff too highbrow. -But Gus doesn’t know “highbrow” poetry when he reads it. Neither one is -regular, lollypop highbrow literature. We have before us a recent copy of -“Current Opinion” containing the following howl from the highbrow poet, -Carl Sandburg: - - My shirt is a token and a symbol - More than a lover for sun and rain, - My shirt is a signal - And a teller of souls. - - I can take off my shirt and tear it - And so make a ripping, razzly noise, - And the people will say, - “Look at him tear his shirt.” - - I can keep my shirt on; - I can sit around and sing like a little bird, - And look ’em all in the eye and never be fazed. - I can keep my shirt on. - -If we hadn’t happened across this copy of Current Opinion enroute home -from the Atlantic City tea party we would have been just as ignorant as -Gus as to what constitutes real highbrow poetry. We have known dames who -could translate the languages of their Mexican hairless puppies. We have -seen dumb-bells trying to get a prescription from an ouija board. Most -poets—even the cuckoo who wrote the “Ode to a Jackass”—are familiar with -the “voices of nature.” But unless we have been eating a wagon load of -evaporated apples smothered in bootleg without any flavor—especially -without vanilla flavor—Sandburg is shadow-boxing with nut sundaes when he -is not writing poetry. - -Sandburg is beyond all surgery. - -But that is highbrow, Gus, granting the shirt was clean, which we very -much doubt. - - * * * * * - -When Gus was back East with me where they use the sign language—sign here -and sign there—we took in a New York production and one of the comic -lyrics handed over the footlights went something like this: - - Oh, the Vamp, Vamp, Vamp, Vamp, Vamp, - She’s a nectarine, a pippin and a peach; - She’s emotional and sexual and highly intellectual - And equally effectual in each. - She’s a jolly little sport with the boys of every sort, - In the college, in the court or in the camp— - Though her years may handicap her, - Why the flapping of the Flapper - Isn’t in it with the vamping of the Vamp, Vamp, Vamp, - Of the variable, veritable vamp. - -Nothing “highbrow” about that—yet we can picture a crowd of Minneapolis -undergraduates sitting beside a big pine tree at our Breezy Point lodge -on a moonlight night. We shall let you complete the portrayal. It isn’t -poetry, just as Gus says, and it isn’t highbrow like the “Tale of the -Shirt” and the “Lily Breasts.” But, it should go ringing down in cabaret -history with “Cheer, Cheer, the Gang’s All Here”; “Shall I Get You Now or -Must I Hesitate?” and other classics of the post-prohibition age. - - * * * * * - -That thing you call a head is merely a mole placed on your shoulders to -keep your backbone from unraveling. - - * * * * * - -I was standing outside the Urban meat market in Robbinsdale the other day -when a neighbor lady, carrying her baby, walked up to me. “If you’ll hold -baby while I buy some meat I’ll treat you to a nice cool drink in the -drug store,” she said to me. - -I took the kidlets in my arms while mother did her shopping. I stood -around for at least five minutes before the kindly lady finally completed -her purchases. - -“Thank you, Captain Billy,” she said, as she took her baby from me. “I -suppose you’re ready for that drink now, aren’t you?” - -“No,” I answered. “Really, Mrs. Smith, I’m not the least bit dry today.” - - * * * * * - -We received a very interesting letter from Deacon Gifford’s son, John, -the other day. Giff Junior went out to California to become a movie hero -and at present has employment in Hollywood as a pilot in the Universal -stables. He piles it here and there as he used to do in his father’s -barn. We will give you Giff’s letter as we feel sure you will be -interested in any word from our old friend John. - - “Dear Captain Billy: I went out to visit a nice girl in Watts, - California, twenty minutes’ ride from Los Angeles, tuther night - and she had a nice little vurse which she recited to me, which - I am sending you to put in the Whiz Bang: - - _O, she shook a little shimmy,_ - _Then she shook a little knee;_ - _She shook her little shoulder_ - _As she danced away with me._ - _Handsome feller shook an eyelid,_ - _’N she shook her’s back in glee,_ - _Shook his head kinda sideways_ - _And directly she shook me._ - - “Watts is a new town, as I have said before, and the most - popular man in town is Reverund Ismus. He always is invited to - every wedding and funeral. - - “I went to a home brew party the other night, but before I got - there the party was dead and Reverund Ismus eridicated the - burial service, thusly: - - “‘Brethren and Sistern, we must now bid a fond farewell to - Deacon Jones (here someone in the audience remarked “What - farewell could be sweeter”), who now lies uninterrupted. We - must benefit by the Deacon’s calamity and teach our children to - read and write, that they may be able to discern the difference - between ‘Malt and Hops’ and ‘Rough on Rats.’ The choir will now - sing ‘Awaken Sleeping Angels’ for Brother Deacon Jones is now - entering the gates of Heaven.’ - - “We have a wonderful barber shop in town. He isn’t doing much - business now and when I stepped in for a shave the other day he - was asleep in the chair. I coughed a couple of times. He awoke, - jumped up quick, and shouted, - - “‘Next!’ - - “They also have a police force in Watts. Yesterday I saw him - arrest a fellow in an auto. The fellow wanted to know what he - was pinched for. - - “‘Fer not sticking out yer hand when turning a busy corner.’ - - “‘Well, I couldn’t very well let go of the wheel to stick out - my hand, could I?’ - - “‘Where was yer other hand?’ - - “‘Oh, I had that around the emergency.’ Whereupon the girl - sitting next to him blushed furiously. I didn’t know why unless - the cop flirted with her or something. Women are awfully funny - anyway. - - “By the way, Captain, is your present wife your first mate? - - “Your old friend, - - “John.” - - * * * * * - -Ye editor received an interesting communication the other day from our -friend A. Rouse, which we will pass on to you for your edification: - -“T’other night I passed through your summer capital, i.e., Pequot, and in -spite of the uncouth hour, climbed off the rattler to see if I could view -the illustrious Gus or the famous member of the specie bovine, Pedro. I -was disappointed, but what I started out to say was that as we approached -the aforementioned hamlet, I remarked to George, the genial and dusky -skipper of the ‘Sokluk,’ that we seemed to be making a little better -seaway for the passed few miles. - -“Yessah, ah reckon we is,” said George, “She’s sure runnin’ right smooth -jes now. Almost seem lak ol’ engineer done succeed in gettin’ her back on -the ties once mo.” - - * * * * * - -Our Latest Flivver Story - -A jitney car operated by a woman between Chico and Paradise, California, -broke down the other day. She halted a passing roadster and of the driver -inquired: - -“Do you know anything about this car?” - -“Only a lot of bum jokes,” he replied, and drove on. - - * * * * * - -The Game - - Joyride and the girls ride with you; - Stroll, and you stroll alone, - For this is the day of the damsels gay, - Who consider the stroller a drone. - - Feast, and the girls feast with you; - Fast, and you fast uncheered. - For they like to dine and drink rare wine, - And to dance when the floor is cleared. - - Flirt, and the girls flirt with you; - Don’t, and they count you slow. - For they play with you, so you must play, too - Or sit in the lonesome row. - - Love, and the girlies love you; - Wed, and she is yours for life. - For she does not play in the cabaret, - The one that you make your wife. - - * * * * * - -We will now sing that new southern ballad of the darkies, entitled, “I’se -got the razor and you’se got the throat.” - - * * * * * - -Gone Are the Dog Daze - -Squire Green, wealthy Minnesota farmer, had a pedigreed dog, Fido. He -read in the Weekly Argus where Professor Dumpey in Minneapolis could -operate on a dog and make him talk like a man for a three thousand dollar -fee. - -The squire shook himself loose from the money and delegated his son, -Bycyrus, to take the money and Fido to the miracle professor. Arriving -in the city, Bycyrus parked Fido in the hotel and started out to spend -the three thousand berries. When he sobered up, he found himself without -railroad fare home, so he and Fido started to walk. - -At the crossroads he killed Fido. - -“Where’s the dog?” the Squire asked. - -“Well,” replied Bycyrus, “It was this way: As I was walking home, Fido -looked up at me and said: ‘I wonder if your father still goes out with -the cook.’ So I killed poor Fido.” - -“Bycyrus,” earnestly inquired the Squire, “are you sure that dog is dead?” - - * * * * * - -Wow, Zowie? - -The colonel of a British regiment returned home in a very angry mood, and -when questioned by his wife as to the cause, replied: “Why, that Yankee -captain attached to us boasted in the mess today that he had kissed every -officer’s wife in the regiment but one.” - -“My word,” replied his wife, “I wonder who she can be.” - - - - -_Our Movie Gossip_ - - -Trust Hollywood to have the latest in fads, but as in lots of cases, -they are short lived. A few months ago Madam Edith Maida Lessing built -her temple in Glasswell Park, high above Hollywood, and said, “Here will -I commune with the eternal, here will I show the bungalow sweeties that -I am no piker.” So she gathered her subjects about her and taught them -that civil marriage is the bunk, ownership of land is terrible, churches, -penitentiaries are awful, divine marriage is the berries, barter and -exchange are the biscuits, free trade and religious transformation is the -hot dog. - -So divine marriage prevailed, it consisted of taking a person as your -mate in the sight of God and when tired of them give them the gate, -and daily and nightly they gamboled lightly on the lee, little elfins -scantily clad could be seen flitting hither and thither in the moonlight -and they held earthly communication in the doorways; in the early -mornings could be seen the spirit dance around the red flag of love, and -many a bungalow sweetie could be seen looking longingly toward Glasswell -Park. It got so bad that the dearies thought they were going to lose -their sweet man and they all began to squawk in accents bold. - -They yelped so loud that they were heard in Los Angeles, and straightway -two noble minions of the law set forth to quiet the rumpus. When they -arrived and asked what it was all about, they were informed this was the -temple of Helois where the disabled vets were soon to reside and where -St. Mary’s cradle was to be founded to care for all the babies that were -not otherwise cared for. Here was to be the goat farm to feed said babies -that their mothers might commune with the spirits unhampered; here was to -be the boat landing where the fishermen would land nightly after their -day’s fishing to feed the vets and the other members of the colony. Here -was everything. - -The law was not satisfied and escorted her forth to durance vile, and -accused her of lots of things she didn’t understand, but she remained -unruffled and when safely situated in the county hotel, broke forth in a -fit of poetry— - -Red Is the Color of Love - - _Because in the hope to save the world,_ - _She had questioned not nor fled,_ - _But only kept the banner unfurled,_ - _Whose only color is red._ - _For red is the color of love,_ - _And red is the holy one’s desire,_ - _And red is the place where love makes his bed,_ - _And red is the color of fire._ - _And red is the thing that we do and dare,_ - _When we snatch the fire brand_ - _And touch the flame to the devil’s lair,_ - _Who tortures its by his hand._ - _And red is the hole in the depths of the earth,_ - _We would bury the demon in_ - _Who has laughed in such fiendish and lawless mirth_ - _At the wages of lust and sin._ - -Now all is quiet at Helios; no more do they dance in the pale moonlight; -no more is the scorpion hurled forth to the bungalows, no more do the -goats bleat and disturb he who would sleep; now the sweeties have -returned to their previous love, and all is well. - - * * * * * - -The other day the little town of Manhattan on the ocean near Los Angeles -passed an ordinance setting a penalty for swimming without the sometimes -necessary bathing suit, but they claim it was not without cause, for it -got so bad that certain persons after swimming were going uptown for -lunch without taking the necessary time to cover their earthly charms. - -One night a party was held on the sands and every one disrobed and all -were enjoying the cooling air of the evening when a stranger was seen in -the offing. Everyone grabbed clothes and ran, intending to use another -part of the beach to refresh themselves. One dearie was stranded in the -dark, and as the rest of the party had her clothes, was forced to wander -about until morning, which was only a few hours away. After daylight she -set out to find some clothes. - -Later the town heads talked it over and decided that a person ought to -wear some clothing, if only to protect them from the chill night air, so -now if you go to Manhattan to swim, take something along to wear, even if -it is only an old shirt, for, quote they, if Mack Sennet can get away -with it, “we” can. - - * * * * * - -“The Four Cow Boys of the Poker Chips” - -_From “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse”_ - -By James Starr. - -This is a great, massive feature directed by Dex Bygum, formerly a -bartender in Cuba. This picture is the greatest society drama that has -ever been produced about the cow country. The story is of a man that goes -to Reno to get a divorce. Reno being a great cow town, he soon turns -to be a cowboy. While he is chasing the “steaks” around the country, a -beautiful girl comes to Reno to get a divorce or to get married, we don’t -know which. The two fall in love with each other and he rides her around -the town in a side car on a bicycle. They have great times together for a -while until he starts to playing marbles for money. This gambling scene -would make Monte Carlo turn green with envy. The girl tells the man that -if he doesn’t stop gambling, she’ll leave him forever. He goes from bad -to worse and starts to play lawn dice. She is heart-broken and leaves -the town. That night he and four cowboys start to play poker. The four -cowboys leave the dive with all of the poker chips. The man is broke and -discouraged, so he takes a writing “Tablet” and dies in a few minutes. -This is the only drama we’ve seen with a true-to-life ending. It is -without a doubt the greatest non-star picture ever produced. We don’t see -how they did it. - - * * * * * - -“High Steppin’” - -_From “Deception”_ - -By James Starr. - -This is a story of the wild parties they had during the time English -history was originated. From the looks of this picture they had a -wild and wicked time. The hero had six wives; that’s enough to make -any picture worth watching. The time is during the reign of Henry the -Flivver. Without a doubt he was a rattling good King because he found the -Ford that would go fifty miles on a bucket of oats. There’s a mystery -about the old birds doing the “toddle” in the second reel; they pull a -mean dance and if it hadn’t been for a gang of sub-titles we’d have seen -a wicked time. Old Henry as a king was a much better joker. The greatest -thing that he ever said was, “If I ever lose my Kingdom, I’ll sell shoe -strings on Broadway so I can have my near-beer.” He meant every word of -it, too. Old Henry was a real wicked hero, they usually let the villain -have the part, but to save the cost of another actor, they had old Henry -do it. The old Monarch was fond of playing crap and reading the sixteenth -century funny paper. One of his favorites in the funny paper was “Omar, -the tentmaker,” who is now still acting foolish on the American stage. -This picture is not quite as wicked as “The Queen of She Bare,” but it -will do just the same. - - * * * * * - -Doesn’t it get your nanny to have a girl say, “Now quit, Charles!” when -your name is George? - - * * * * * - -Pour la Toddle - -Oh, these professional propagandists. - -Can nothing deliver us from them? - -Our ministerial prolocutors again promulgate the purity dance. - -They barked and barked at the spaghetti shamble shimmie until Sari -Dennishawn tripped in and demonstrated the aestheticism of shoulder -shaking. - -But now the “toddle” comes—that ecstatic little eccentricity that -proselytes us all, and makes us do those ticklish little shivers that the -deans call “vicious.” - -“Vicious”—propend that! - -Is there anything more inspiring than two young people, cheeks pressed -close, galloping about in syncopated contortions to the weird moan of a -saxophone and the sliding blare of a trombone? - -Is there anything more uplifting than the sight of a beautiful young -girl with her head resting on the shoulder of a greasy-headed lizard who -“toddles” around with closed eyes? - -And the ministers would change all this. They call it “vicious.” - -Now what do you think of that? - - * * * * * - - A certain young lady named Funk, - Was tricked into buying a skunk, - She tho’t ’twas a cat, till it got on her lap, - But now she burns Japanese punk. - - * * * * * - -Crookedness never pays in the long run—Look at the corkscrew—out of a -job. - - - - -_Limber Kicks_ - - -Here’s to the Woman - - A smile for every joy, - A tear for every sorrow, - A consolation for every grief, - An excuse for every fault, - A prayer for every misfortune, - And an encouragement for every hope. - - * * * * * - -Sermonette - - Most of us love to dance, but that - Is nothing to reprove; - The ones who ought to be suppressed - Are those who dance to love. - - * * * * * - -Memories of the Past - -Sing this to the tune of “On the Rocky Road to Dublin.” - - Three cheers for the red wine and booze, - Three cheers for Ireland, and Michael Kenna too; - When grub was slim and pickings thin, - We all came to Hink’s, - To eat a lot of free lunch, - Without buying any drinks. - - * * * * * - - Mary has two silken sox, - Rolled down below her knees; - Mary once had chickenpox, - Which spoiled the scenery. - - * * * * * - -Of Course Not - - Carefully she rouges her dimpled knees, - Then adds a powdery sheen, - Do you think she does this little stunt, - If she thinks they won’t be seen? - - * * * * * - -Where Silence Was Golden - -Three gentlemen were seated in a street car. One of them, who stuttered -badly, turned to the man nearest him and said: “W-w-w-would y-y-you -p-p-p-please t-t-t-tell m-me w-what t-t-time it is?” Receiving no reply -he thought he had addressed a foreigner and soon left the car. - -The third gentleman turned to the one that had been asked for the time -of day and said: “Why didn’t you tell that poor fellow the time? I never -thought that anyone could be so uncivil.” - -The one who had been asked for the time turned and said: “D-d-d-do -y-y-y-you t-t-think I-I-I-I w-w-wanted t-t-to ge-ge-get my h-h-head -ku-ku-knocked off?” - - * * * * * - -Does It Pay to Forget? - -An Irishman and a German went out to the back yard to settle an argument -with their fists. Just before the fight started they agreed that when -either of them had enough he would say “Sufficient.” Then they went at it. - -The Irishman soon knocked the Fritzie off his feet. Heinie got up, -shook his head and, catching the Irishman off his guard, hit him for -a goal. Pat came back fast and furious, and so the battle waged fast -and faster—when finally the German, about ready to drop from sheer -exhaustion, cried out—“Sufficient.” - -Pat shook hands with him and said: “I’ve been trying to think of that -word for the last ten minutes.” - - - - -_“A Fool’s Paradise”_ - -BY REV. “GOLIGHTLY” MORRILL - -Pastor of People’s Church, Minneapolis, Minn. - - -Palm Beach is the place where the palm is held out for your money as soon -as you land. Here nothing is free save the air, looks and morals of the -visitors. On the beach color, costume, commotion, low necks, high skirts, -bare legs, wicked winks and studied poses kindle the onlooker’s thoughts -into a flame that Neptune cannot put out. This is the place for high -jinks that would shame the half-naked savages of the South Seas and outdo -the love-antics of the nymphs and gods in old mythology. - -Dinner is the day’s event at the Poinciana Hotel. ’Tis a thrilling -sight to see an army of waiters “charge” through miles of dinner table -trenches, while the guests, armed with sabre knives and bayonet forks, -fight to get food. After the attack the survivors sit around in the -lobby, stand or march about the miles of halls and foyers, shooting -glances at each other and attempting to make “conquests.” Despite the -heat of the room, there were many chilling glances and cold shoulders if -you were not one of the “regulars.” Giddy boys and girls, thoroughbred -sports of men and women, were all there to see and be seen, to show all -they dared, to flaunt their gold and diamonds and exhibit everything -they could on their outside which did but advertise the naked poverty of -their inner mentality and morality. - -Amid all this glare, gold and giddiness, I watched an old woman, who was -out of the society race, but painfully anxious to be noticed. This slave -of fashion with rope of pearls around her neck, bosom bound round with -chains of gold, and handcuffed with bracelets, leaned back in her chair. -When she saw me look at her she raised the lace on her breast that I -might see her hidden diamonds, then rested her withered arms for me to -admire her bracelets, moved her bony, be-diamonded fingers, heaved her -upholstered bosom and writhed her wrinkled, snaky neck. - -Ye Gods, what a sight! This last leaf on Life’s tree—this winter of -discontent amid these tropical surroundings—this dying spark in life’s -conflagration of passion—this woman of three score years making this -unholy show of herself, when she ought to be in bed or with a Bible on -her knees preparing to meet her God. This after-dinner sideshow was a -fulsome fiesta of Fashion, a vicious Vanity Fair. - -The “Beach Club” is the Monte Carlo of the U. S. A. To gain admission -you must be a member, or be vouched for by a member in good standing. I -met a member who offered to take me in and show me around. I had seen -the real Monte Carlo abroad and was told this was like it with its games -and sports. I did manage to get by the Cerberus at the door, but was -then politely stopped by a smiling, monkey flunkey with an expression -of “Thus far shalt thou go and go further.” He informed me I couldn’t -enter without being in evening dress. Since I was like the man in the -Scripture, without the wedding garment, I was cast out. Nevertheless, at -the door I saw two old satyrs taking a chance with two powdered, painted -dames, who in life’s game had lost everything worth having. One of the -girls was tipsy. They made some fly remarks and were welcomed in. - -This “Beach” Club is a place of financial and moral wrecks. It is openly -run in defiance of the Florida state law against gambling. There is not -a law of man or God that it does not break, except the one that unless -you wear a tuxedo or Prince Albert you cannot enter. Here hearts, heads -and bank accounts are broken. Fabulous amounts exchange hands among -the players. If you are just a looker-on you pay for the privilege—a -dollar for a glass of water or ten dollars a plate for a light luncheon. -Question: Why does the government pinch the little gamblers and permit -this “White House” to be a black palace of ruin and despair? - -There is some excuse for the routine of an insane asylum but none for -the silly Palm Beach daily program. Here it is: Yawns, idleness, ennui -and indigestion; dressing for beach and undressing for dinner; sun-tan -of the “Browning Club” and tonic baths; whisking around in an invalid -wheel chair in company of dudes and pug-dogs; driveling talk of clothes -and looks; drinking pink tea or cocktails; reading the latest trash; -spooning, dancing, flirting, golfing, yachting, sporting, and parading -high-priced dogs, cats and monkeys whose mentality and morals are often -higher than their owners’. - -Even Mother Nature here is togged out in society form, laced and -corseted. Trees and flowers are trimmed out of all picturesqueness; -natural curves give way to geometrical squares; lawns are imprisoned -in concrete curbs; the air is perfumed with the balmy fragrance of -cigarettes and cigars; there in no rest found beneath palms, fruit -trees or among plants and flowers on account of the stinging swarms of -society gnats. Florid Florida folders describe Palm Beach as “paradise,” -but the attractions to me were outside of the garden. Everything is -over-estimated. It is very far from the luxuriance of Hawaii, the sport -of Monte Carlo, the beauty and history of Mediterranean resorts. It takes -more than a railroad and a big hotel to beat them. - -Palm Beach pauperizes and provokes. Her short season sickens and shames. -She is the painted, pampered prostitute of Florida. “Do as you damn -please” is her motto. This was no place for a minister’s son, so I -stood not upon the order of my going, but went by the first midnight -train—before I lost all my money and morals. - - * * * * * - -Froth Pulls This One - -Belle—I don’t understand why Clarice lets that common grocery boy play -around with her? - -Buoy—Neither do I, unless it’s because he delivers the goods. - - - - -_Our New York Gossip_ - - -Heaven forbid that I should be catty about this; but I marvel at the -new medical malady introduced into the world by the great Mlle. Suzanne -Lenglen, the French tennis star. - -It is a peculiar kind of bronchial cough that only comes on when you -are getting licked. The peculiarity of the disease that the paroxysm of -coughing take place every time one loses a point; the gaining of a point -is followed by an immediate, temporary recovery. - -Brethren and sisters, I don’t want to bring on another European war; but -we gotta have the truth about this French jane who came over here to mop -up the tennis courts with our American girls. - -The real malady from which Mlle. Lenglen was suffering was an overdose -of publicity. They tell me that, at the time of the Olympic games in -Belgium, the French star had begun to believe that the rest of the -firmament where she was not was a comparatively dull affair. - -One day, at Antwerp, she arrived at the stadium without her ticket of -admission. To the gatekeeper who held out his mit for the accustomed -cardboard, she said with freezing hauteur, “I am the great Lenglen.” I -don’t know what the gatekeeper did; I suppose he dropped dead and was -carried out by the heels; but anyhow, that is what she said. - -When she arrived in America, the little French girl did a very foolish -thing. She gave out an interview loftily pooh-poohing all the American -stars—especially Molla Bjurstedt Mallory, whom she said she had defeated -without trying. - -Now it happens that Molla is a sweet, kind-hearted, unaffected, -courageous little Norwegian girl. She was a professional masseuse when -she came to America; but disarmed the snobbery of the Newport tennis set -by her good sportsmanship. - -She read the catty remarks that Lenglen had said about her and she came -out on the tennis courts at Forest Hills looking for blood. The dander of -her Norse Viking ancestors was up. The way she lit into the French girl -filled the latter with dismay. In the face of the tornado, the “great -Lenglen” retired shivering to the back courts and straightway developed a -sensational cough. - -At the end of the first set, she threw up her hands and quit cold, -leaving the courts in tears. Molla retired from the battle in high -dignity; but as soon as the club house doors closed upon her, she was -almost smothered by the kisses and hugs of the other girl tennis players -who had gathered for the tournament. Mlle. Lenglen during her brief stay -of two days had managed to make herself thoroughly unpopular. - -It is predicted that the other French champion, Carpentier, will not be -basking in quite such a halo of hero worship when he comes back again, -next winter, to fight Tom Gibbons. - -Georges made a gallant and inspiring fight against Jack Dempsey but, -around the neighborhood, they were not quite so strong for him. - -It is certainly an awful thing to contemplate; but if the new picture -censors of New York have their way, the world is due to be a lonely void -without any one-piece bathing suit girls. - -The first thing they did on taking office recently was to throw out the -picture of some Dallas, Texas, young ladies who won the prizes for having -the best—well, y’ know—bathing suits and so on. - -Hardly had the metropolis recovered from this shock when the censors -ruthlessly stepped on Hope Hampton’s thousand dollar bathing suit which -recently gave Atlantic City a thrill. - -Of course, you understand that Hope’s bath suit was made out of seal -skin; and seal skin is so awfully expensive that she naturally couldn’t -get such an awful lot of it for a thousand dollars—and that was the kind -of suit it was. - -The censors gave the indignant Miss Hampton a funny reason for their -official “thumbs down” ruling. They said that her bath suit was against -the city ordinances of Atlantic City—and they couldn’t stand for -that—even if it was in New Jersey. - -Whereupon most of the New York papers promptly proceeded to print both of -the censor forbidden pictures, thereby giving them about a dozen times -the publication they would have had on the screen. - -It is practically a defi on the part of the Metropolitan daily papers, -who say in effect to Governor Miller, “Why don’t you try censoring us, -too?” - -And now we are on the subject of Hope Hampton, they tell me that, -although a really nice little girl, Hope has begun to feel her dignity. -Not long ago, at her picture studio two electricians were fixing an -overhead light. One of them, looking down upon the set, said, “Now we’ve -got it right. It’s right above her head.” - -Whereupon the lovely young star stared upward with a cold and terrible -stare: - -“Where do you get that stuff, ‘her’?” she demanded. “When you are talking -about me, say ‘Miss Hampton.’” - -There are alarming rumors that Hope is going onto the stage along with -the other movie stars who are headed furiously in that direction. - -On the other hand, Theda Bara, to counter-balance the exodus, is going -back to the screen again. - -Personally I quiver with excitement waiting to find out if T’eda is going -to be a vamp on the screen again. She’s a queer girl—T’eda. - -It used to be said of Oliver Goldsmith that he wrote like an angel and -talked like a fool. Just the other way with T’eda. - -Personally she is one of the most charming women I ever met. She has -brains, wit, philosophy, humor and concentration. She is a brilliant -conversationalist. I once heard her talk with a dramatist, renowned for -his brilliant conversation, and the silver-tongued genius had nothing on -her. She simply sizzled and coruscated with brilliancy. - -But when she stops talking and turns to her professional life, the brains -ooze out somewhere. The only thing worse than Theda’s pictures was -Theda’s play, put on last season. At that, she has real ability as an -actress—if she would take up sane subjects. - -Theda was married the other day to one Charles Braban, a director. - -A few days after the wedding, she was in court testifying as a witness. -They asked her for her name. She said it was Theda Bara. - -The lawyer was one of these bull-dozing gents. “I want to know your real -name,” he said with cheap sarcasm. - -The courts recently gave the lady the right to change her legal name -from Theodosia Goodman, with which she was born, to her stage name Theda -Bara; so she replied with dignity, “My real name is Theda Bara.” And -annihilated the lawyer with a look. The examination had proceeded when -she suddenly shrieked, “Oh, no. Excuse me. I forgot. I am Mrs. Charles -Braban.” - -The deeply regretted death of Caruso will be followed by a musical -revolution. - -It is an admitted fact that no good American name goes in musical -circles. If you were not born on the other side, you have to pretend -you were and apologize and take a foreign moniker; or you will not be -accepted in your own, your native land. - -The way things are now, no American singer can possibly break in without -going to Europe for a long and expensive course of study—just to get the -European stamp of approval. - -Some of the bitterest tragedies of this world have been those of American -girls who found the doors closed to them in their own country by foreign -impressarios and who struggled their way to Europe in order to work for -German or Italian permission to follow their own professions in their own -country. A good many found heart-aches, poverty and other worse tragedies -over there. - -And now coming to the point: it looks as though the logical successor of -Caruso might be a young California boy of good old American stock—Mario -Chamley. He is a regular young “he” American who talks baseball; goes to -all the fights and is “regular” from the basement up. He has a glorious -golden voice and has gone to the front in the Metropolitan more rapidly -than any other young tenor in the history of American opera. The future -seems to have boundless possibilities for him. - -Chamley is a charming young fellow to meet. Opera singing is just a -job—like any other—to him. He tells some outrageously funny stories -about life in an opera company. Among other adventures, the first time -he appeared in a grand role in the Metropolitan, he burst the waist band -that held up his pants. - -When the curtain went down and the applause began, the excited -impressario tried to drag him out in front of the curtain. - -The young tenor tried to tell him his pants were coming down, but he -couldn’t remember how to say it in Italian. The impressario thought it -was just shyness and modesty that kept him back and tried to drag him -along. Just in time, one of the other singers, explained the situation -and the Metropolitan audience lost a chance for a comic thrill. - -And now, brethren, that will be about all for today, except that -the press agent of the Ziegfield Follies has announced with heat of -excitement that the girls have formed a club to prosecute and reply to -those who say they go to rough parties and live wild lives. Cross my -heart, I have always believed that the Ziegfield girls spent all their -spare time reading dictionaries and doing tatting work and helping mother -with the dishes. So they can’t get anything on me, b’ gosh. - - * * * * * - -A Gimme For Fair - - First he said “Gimme a kiss,” - Then he said “Gimme a hug,” - Then he wanted “A lock of my hair.” - I filled these requests with glee. - Then to prove truly that he was a “gimme” - The brute, he gave me “the air.” - (’Tis tuff, sister, ’tis tuff.) - - * * * * * - -Getting the Sheckels - - Why wait until you’re old and bent? - The wise bird took ’em as he went. - - * * * * * - -Over in Italy they have a new drink, made out of prunes. They call it -Prunell. That’s nothing. Over here they have a new drink made out of -raisins. They call it Raisenell. - - * * * * * - -Stranger (winking): Can you direct me to a good drug store? - -Villager: You’re talking to one right now. - - * * * * * - - The ocean wearily exclaimed, - “Incessantly I go; - I wonder that I don’t get corns - Upon my undertow.” - - * * * * * - -The first Tommy was ruddy of complexion, with a huge growth of beard of -the hue known as auburn. - -The second was smooth shaven. Said the latter: “I useter have a beard -like that till I saw myself in the glass. Then I cut it off.” - -But the bearded man was not dismayed. - -“Much better ’ave left it on, mate,” he returned gently. “I useter have a -face like yours till I saw it in the glass. Then I growed this beard.” - - * * * * * - -How Do They Get That Way? - -Mother—Come, Bobbie, don’t be a little savage—kiss the lady. - -Bobbie—No, she’s a naughty lady. If I kiss her she may give me a slap -just like she did Papa. - - * * * * * - -That’s Righto! - -The man who has the love and confidence of a good woman, and whom the -children run to meet when he is coming home from his work at night, may -no be rated as a millionaire, by Bad Street and Done, but High-Gate Pete -has him pretty well lined up in the Babe Ruth class! - - * * * * * - -George, my boy, when a girl really loves you she’ll wade through -hell for you unprotected and with her hair unleashed and streaming -defiantly behind her as Love’s Unconquerable Flag. You’re the whole -works to her—from the engineer to the president, and the directors and -stockholders heaved in for good measure. All other men, compared to you, -are only accidents or bellhops. - - * * * * * - -The Modern Way - -A jug o’ pumpernickel, a hunk o’ buttermilk and a case of near-beer, a -pinch o’ limburger and a bouquet of green onions, a ukelele, an electric -fan and a fly swatter, a porch hammock, the Whiz Bang, a package of -cigarettes, a few jazz records and a chicken and you couldn’t wish -Harding’s job on me! - - * * * * * - -As the old Hebrew walked across the golf links, a ball bounced off his -head with considerable force. He turned angrily upon the golfer. “Say,” -he yelled, “You want to kill me?” “I sue you for fife tousand dollars.” - -“Didn’t you hear me? I said ‘Fore.’” - -“All right,” Ikey replied, “I’ll take it.” - - * * * * * - -She hangs out in our alley, but oh! what she hangs out. - - * * * * * - -Good Night, Shirt - -“See here, I will not let you go out in a frock like that.” - -“Don’t be an ass, Jack. I’m not going out—I’m going to bed.” - - - - -_Whiz Bang Editorials_ - -_“The Bull is Mightier Than the Bullet.”_ - - -Making It Perfectly Clear - -Although tradition holds the devil was masculine, there is at least one -person in the world who would dispute tradition and stamp the evil one a -woman. You may not agree with him, but then again you may, so here’s the -poem: - - As the story is told, in the ages of old, - The devil, a spirit, was free, - To wander at will, mid the good and the ill, - So the devil a roaming went he. - In a garden he met an old man and his pet, - And straightway enamored was he - With Eve, young and cute, so he gave her some fruit, - For the devil a serpent could be. - - Then she put on a skirt and made Adam a shirt— - A cunning young vixen was she— - Concealing her charms, yet displaying her arms, - Till the devil he chuckled in glee. - For he saw at a glance that his charms would enhance - If only a female were he; - So, donning her clothes, through creation he goes, - And the devil a woman is she! - - * * * * * - - “_Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber,_ - _Holy angels guard thy bed,_” - -were the soft sweet words I heard as I passed by a little cottage home. -Glancing in the open doorway, I saw a young mother rocking her baby to -sleep. It recalled the voice of my mother who sings to me across the -years of babyhood, youth and manhood. - -In memory’s light I see the old cradle. It was a homely thing. The sides -sloped, it was just wide enough for a baby’s arms to reach across, high -enough for the little sister to look over, and the brother to learn to -walk by. It was shaped like a kind of Noah’s Ark, but in it we children -rocked and rode safely over all the storms of early years. - -It had a wooden canopy at the head. As we looked up, it must have seemed -like the edge of the world, or a dark background on which to paint awful -childish fancies. Sometimes a loud man or an ugly woman looked over it -into our faces, spoke, and we were frightened and cried, but mother came -and smiled the tears away. - -The rockers were curved and turned over at the end, and were worn smooth -and gray. Weary with work, mother sat by our side, placed her tired foot -on the rocker, and to the time beat of a loving heart, rocked us to sleep -as she knitted, sewed, mended, thought or prayed. - -For many years the old cradle was going most of the time. Again and again -a big baby was taken out of the cradle and a small one put in. She sang -as only the mother can, whose child is born of pain and baptized with -tears. - -It was a lullaby sweet and low, like hum of bees in summertime; a song -in a nursery, and not in a concert hall; a song not for the many but for -just one pair of little ears which heard and loved and understood. It was -rock, and sing, for nap by day and long sleep by night; rock and sing -when well and glad or sick and sad. One day the cradle was stilled, the -little brother, Gordon, was sound asleep, his long lashes cast shadows -on the upturned cheek, and the little fingers had changed a red rose for -a white lily. His cradle had rocked him nearer to the tomb for “birth is -nothing but our death begun.” - -Dear cradle of childhood, that rested so many tired bodies and soothed -so many hearts. Today the old cradle is in the dark garret and the tired -mother rests in the dark grave. The hands that laid the pillow and spread -the cover have stopped their work; the foot that rocked it has finished -its journey; the face that hovered above it is gone and the song she sang -is silent. - -Baby boys and girls are men and women now, but they can never forget the -old cradle. How often when body, mind and heart ache we toss and cry -during the long night hours, and wish that mother could hug, kiss and put -us in the old cradle again and rock and sing us to sleep. - - * * * * * - -We note with amusement that certain of the sanctimonious sect still are -passing “resolutions” about the Dempsey-Carpentier fistic embroglio, -deploring the same as a “disgrace to our civilization.” These are the -same “birds” who would have us scrap our navy and reduce the army to a -squad of boy scouts with Easter lilies in their hands. - -A “prize fight” is no more brutal than any other manifestation of power; -no more “disgraceful” in what we call civilization than any other -application of force. Force rules the universe; nothing can resist it. It -would take physical force to maintain any law against prize fighting just -as it takes physical force to keep the bathing beauties from discarding -their two-ounce outfits as too burdensome to wear. - -Prize fighting is a “disgrace to civilization” only because it is -mercenary, venal, sordid; yet we loan our money on mortgages and sell -our goods at a profit with never a thought of disagreeable civilization. -The fighter sells his ability to clout another prize fighter on the chin -before the other bambino of the bulging biceps bangs him on his own -proboscis. - -The power of the state is behind all human law and activity—the threat -of physical enforcement keeps Pedro, Jr., out of Neighbor Jones’ alfalfa -patch. Society is protected by force and sometimes with arms. Our -civilization is merely armed resistance to “barbarism” and the brutality -is always under the thin pretense of “culture” and “refinement.” - -We have no desire to see America a nation of male toe dancers. Let there -be “prize fighting” if it is to help save the country from the bigotry of -the organized minority. If we don’t look out we’ll soon be as unprotected -as a toke point oyster on the half shell—and it will be the folk who are -raving about prize fighting that will do it. - - * * * * * - -My hip is often my castle. - - * * * * * - -Ikey’s New Bank - -Ikey was talking to his Yiddish merchant friend in the latter’s store -when the dealer’s young son toddled in and said, “Papa, give me some -money.” The father reached in his pocket and handed the boy a quarter. -His friend appeared rather shocked at the show of liberality. “Why, how -much spending money do you give that kid every week?” he asked. Levy -replied, “Only three quarters.” - -“Don’t you think you’re too extravagant with a child?” - -“Oh, no,” answered Levy, “I showed him how to put the quarters in the gas -meter and he thinks it’s a bank.” - - * * * * * - -Report From London - -They were holding an inquest upon poor Sandy McHarris, whose body had -been taken from the Thames. Eleven of the jury were for returning a -verdict of suicide, but the twelfth, a brither Scot demurred. - -“Hoo could it be suicide?” he asked. “Ah’m for a vairdict o’ ‘Accidental -death,’ maisel. Ye’ll notice that the puir laddie had a bottle of whisky -on him, and it was nearly full.” - -Verdict in accordance with the evidence. - - * * * * * - -“Say, Gus,” asked a neighbor, “I heard that the foreman has had a fever. -How’s his temperature today?” Our hired man scratched his head and -decided not to commit himself. “Taint for me to say,” he replied. “He -died last night.” - - - - -_Smokehouse Poetry_ - - -_In the November issue Smokehouse Poetry will bring back to memory that -Civil War classic, “Your Letter, Lady, Came Too Late.” This beautiful -and touching poem was written by an officer of the Confederate Army to -the most beautiful and brilliant belle of Savannah, the fiancee of the -officer’s companion in prison. The woman had written a cold, heartless -letter, but her fiance had died before the letter was received and the -poem was in answer to it._ - - _Tonight your home may shine with lights,_ - _And ring with merry songs,_ - _And you be smiling as though your soul_ - _Had done no deathly wrong._ - _Your hands so fair, none would think_ - _Had penned these words of pain,_ - _Your skin so white, would God, your heart,_ - _Were half so free from stain._ - -_In addition to this noted classic, Whiz Bang will reproduce “Down In the -Lehigh Valley,” which is well known by name among Smokehouse fans. And, -in parting, folks, don’t forget that the Winter Annual will contain the -greatest assortment of Smokehouse poetry ever put into print. Send your -dollar in before you are too late._ - - * * * * * - -The Prisoner’s Prayer - -_This poem was written by Arthur Winter on the wall of the Federal Prison -at McNeil Island, Washington, in September, 1909, and later memorized -by another prisoner and forwarded to the Whiz Bang upon his release. We -offer it to you for what you think it is worth._ - - Our prayer has gone up through the ages - To a God whom they say gave us souls; - But the fear of anger still rages, - The thunder of punishment rolls. - - We are sheep that are driven to slaughter; - We are dogs that are whelped in the street; - We are useless as poisonous water; - We are only for punishment meet. - - So hear ye the prayers from the prison, - Where fever and famine are rife; - Where never one soul has arisen, - Where myriads go down in the strife. - - Where the black wing of death scarcely hovers, - Lest its jesters should make him unclean; - And the soft fleecy clouds hurry over, - To shut out God’s sun from the scene. - - Where the light of God’s orb would be stricken, - With shame as it passed in the sky, - To look in the cells where we sicken, - To fall in the sod where we die. - - If thou, God, omnipotent being, - Can pierce the prison’s pale gloom; - And growest not sick of the seeing, - This charnel, this foul-reeking tomb? - - If Thy hand stretch not forth in its anger, - To smite this damn den of despair, - Whose evil is rampant, and languor - Is lord of the poisonous lair. - - Then God, take Ye back your creation, - And plunge it in infinite fire, - Your wrath is eternal damnation, - But man’s is more lasting dire. - - * * * * * - -The Sunflower Kid - -By Koffdrop DeHaven. - - A few years back, in my palmy days, when the boxing game was grand, - I tipped the scales at a hundred and ten; had a punch in either hand; - But I never was a top notch, the reason for which I’ll tell, - I was learning a trade in a boiler shop; I worked, and worked like - everything; - I was down at the gym three times a week, tore off six rounds each - night, - ’Till I found myself in tiptop shape and ready for the fight. - I was matched to box “The Sunflower Kid,” the colored bantam champ; - I knew he was good so I trained down fine, and stuck to my training - camp. - For I never drank nor smoked then, boys, I prided my health and - strength, - Could box like Gibbons and hit like Jack, had a good left jab for its - length. - - The fight with the “chocolate drop” was at the Chickatawbut club; - Although I was white I was in the dark for they took me for a dub. - We entered the ring and a whoop went up, we both shared the applause, - They liked us both and “The Kid” was a price and we knew each other’s - flaws. - For we went to school together, “The Sunflower Kid” and me, - And we knew each other’s tactics like the saying A to Z. - The bell rang; we came to the front and neither of us smiled, - We were feinting and “feeling each other out,” and one of my swings - went wild; - No damage was done in the opening round, except for a few left hooks, - I was sure I had his number then and proceeded to mar his looks. - - The eighth opened up, I was still very fresh, getting stronger all the - while, - I ducked “The Kid’s” right swing to the jaw and met him with a smile, - Yes, a smile and also a right hand smash to the softest part of the - jaw, - And “The Kid” went down from the force of the blow and laid out on - the straw. - The referee counted ten and then the “Kid” didn’t move a bit, - I knelt beside him, got hold of his head, I knew he was hard hit. - A doctor jumped in and felt his pulse, put water on his head, - A minute later he tested his heart and announced the “Kid” was dead. - From that time on, I’m sorry to say, my life began to fail - In health and strength and happiness for I served ten years in jail. - - And now I am fighting Barleycorn and my hair is turning gray, - And I’ll beget this tough old gamester until my judgment day. - - * * * * * - -Not Me - - When a pretty Fairy gets on a car, - And her dress comes kinder high, - The goodly man will steal a glance, - Even as you and I. - - But when he’s with a real nice girl, - To look, he will not try, - He is a regular “model man” - Even as you and I. - - * * * * * - -Evolution - -_Jazzed a trifle—Apologies to Langdon Smith_ - -By Neil McConlogue. - - When you were part of an elephant’s tusk - In the Palezoic time, - And I rode round in a walrus mouth - ’Mid the piscatorial slime, - Or skittered with many a caudal flip - Thru the depths of a salmon fen— - Our hearts were rife with that dentine life, - But—I wasn’t with you then. - - That was before the colored man - Invented the game called Crap; - Before they cubed and spotted our sides, - And tossed us toward Fortune’s Lap. - But the world turned on in the lathe of time; - The hot sands heaved amain; - And our faces were polished with emery wheel— - Then between us they made a game. - - At first they called us a “game of dice.” - We were drab as a dead man’s hand: - We lolled at ease ’neath the dripping trees, - Or trailed thru the mud and sand. - Sextette-sided, with corners round, - Writing a language dumb; - While fingers snapped and cash exchanged - On bets that we wouldn’t “come.” - - Later they labeled us “African Golf.” - And they gave us a spin once more. - Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold - Of the Terra Firma shore. - The aeons came, and the aeons fled, - But the hand that held us fast, - Was sure to hold us a bit too long, - We tried hard, but—couldn’t “pass.” - - Then light and swift thru the jungle trees - Swung the white men in their flights; - And they heard the darkies plead “Come little Joe”! - In the hush of policeless nights. - And, Oh! What improvement the white man made! - For us there were no bounds! - We were riven away by a newer day, - And no longer rolled on the ground. - - Thus point by point, and “pass” by “pass,” - Onward thru cycles strange, - We “sevened,” “elevened,” “nined,” and “fived,” - And followed the chain of change; - ’Till there came a time in Gambledom - ’Midst many a weal and woe— - They changed the name of this plucky game - To “Bounding Domino.” - - Long were the “rolls” on the table-top. - When the game would once begin; - Longer the howls of the “folks-of-chance” - When “hard-luck” came trooping in. - O’er gold, and silver, and paper notes, - They’d fight, and claw, and tear; - And cheek by jowl—with words quite foul - They’d soil the clothes they’d wear. - - We were discovered so long ago - In a time that no man knows; - Yet here tonight, in the mellow light, - Near the race-track at Pamlico, - Our eyes are dotted with half-carat stones - That shine like the Devon Springs; - And cute Flappers display us in public - Quite as proudly as diamond rings. - - It makes no difference if we are rolled - For a dollar, five, or ten. - Our love is cold, our game is old, - And the “sucker” our kith and kin. - Tho cities have sprung above the graves - Where the crook-boned-men made war, - Let us drink anew to the time when you - Found the hardest point was “Four.” - -Moral: - -REMEMBER, He who operates a barber-shop is not barbaric; He that studies -the lunar system is not a lunatic; He who exists on a stew is not always -a student; He who thinks that One Broadway makes New York has “muchly” to -learn; And—He that caresseth the Uneasy Ivories is hastily disconnected -from his dough. - -Never Shoot Crap! - -Never! Remember That! - -TOTAL MORAL: Play Poker Instead! - - * * * * * - - Is it you I love dear? - I can scarcely tell. - When you smile your eyes, dear, - Make me think of Nell. - When you’re sad, your mouth, dear, - Makes me think of Sue, - But, dear, when I kiss you, - I am sure it’s you. - - * * * * * - -Oh! You City Slickers - -By Gordon Campbell. - - ’Twas down in the Lehigh Valley - That me and my pal, Lou, - Was workin’ in a hash house, - An’ a pretty good one too. - - It was there that I met Gonzola; - She was the village belle, - Now I was only a waiter, - But I loved that gal like everything. - - Then along come a city feller, - A slick haired son of the idle, - An’ stole my darling little Lou - To slip on the marriage bridle. - - So fill up the glasses, stranger, - An’ I’ll be on my way; - I’ll get the guy that stole my gal, - If it takes till the judgment day. - - * * * * * - -Our Paris Letter - -A Jack Johnson burst over the shell hole into which Pat and Mike had -crawled. “Oi’ve been shot in the foot,” said Pat. Mike immediately placed -Pat on his shoulder and started for the hospital. On his way there -another shell took off Pat’s head. Arriving at the first aid station, the -sentry hailed Mike. - -“No use bringing any dead men in here,” he said. “That fellow’s head has -been shot off.” - -“Why, the son-of-a-gun,” exclaimed Mike, “he told me it was his foot.” - - * * * * * - -Oh, Pickle My Bones - -Pat—“Well, Mike, I just saw a doctor about my loss of memory.” - -Mike—“What did he do?” - -Pat—“He made me pay in advance.” - - - - -_Questions and Answers_ - - -=_Dear Breezy Bill_=—“What’s the tallest tree you ever have seen?”—=_Ella -Mental._= - -Up at Pequot we have a tree that is so big it takes two men to look at -it; one man looks up at it as far as he can and the other man begins -where the first left off. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—I often have heard that there are lots of cows -that do not give milk during the summer. Is this true?—=_O. Shoot._= - -Yes, in a way, but the next time anyone says such things you just tell -them it’s “bull.” - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—I am a girl fourteen years old and have a dog -named Toddles. Should I let a boy of fifteen hug me?—=_Dot._= - -No, go in the house, and take the dog in, too. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—I met a guy at a dance, he kissed me during the -moonlight waltz. What shall I do?—=_Helen._= - -Lay off the moonlight waltzes. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—Could you tell me when Cuba was discovered?—=_Hi -Drant._= - -July 1, 1919. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—I am a young man only seventeen years old. -My mother says I shouldn’t play with any rough girls. What shall I -do?—=_Percy._= - -Do as your mother tells you, you little rascal. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—I am a boy eighteen years old and am in love -with a bootlegger’s daughter. How can I tell her that I love her—=_Al. -Hambra._= - -Send me her address. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—What are the secrets of success?—=_Harold -Lloydette._= - -“Push,” said the button; “Take Pains,” said the window; “Never be led,” -said the pencil; “Be up to date,” said the calendar; “Always keep cool,” -said the ice; “Never lose your head,” said the hammer; “Make light of -everything,” said the fire; “Find a good thing and stick to it,” said the -glue. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Old Skip_=—What are goofus feathers?—=_U. N. Omeal._= - -The fuzz on a peach. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Admiral_=—What is the easiest way to catch a whiffempoof?—=_A. -Fisher._= - -Throw a plug of tobacco in the water and hit him on the head with a club -when he comes up to spit. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Bill_=—Why is it that flies can’t see in the winter -time?—=_I. C. Fairlywell._= - -I suppose it is because they leave their specs behind in the summer time. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Skipper_=—Can you dig me up a girl if I come to Robbinsdale to -visit you?—=_Geehell._= - -Sure, but what’s the matter with me getting you a live one? - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Skipper_=—What is funnier than a one-arm man trying to wind his -wrist watch?—=_Horace._= - -A glass eye at a keyhole. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Skip_=—How is hash made?—=_Hi Water Shuz._= - -It isn’t made. It accumulates. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Breezy Bill_=—What’s your idea of the height of optimism?—=_Peter -Outt._= - -Changing your socks from one foot to the other so that the toes will not -fit the holes. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Captain Billy_=—Do you think that if I hired a pretty stenographer -I would take more interest in my business?—=_J. G. P._= - -I don’t know whether you would take more interest in your business, but I -know your wife will. - - * * * * * - -=_Dear Skipper_=—Who was the first original profiteer?—=_C. Serpent._= - -The whale that swallowed Jonah; he grabbed all the Prophet in sight. - - * * * * * - -In case your Ford misses, look in the exhaust pipe. - - - - -_Pasture Pot Pourri_ - - -Come, Kiss the Heroine! - -Dear Editor: While coming over to America on a steamer, the mate rushed -up to me and threatened to blow up the ship if I didn’t give him a kiss. - -What did I do? - -I saved the lives of four hundred people. - - * * * * * - - Lives of ’skeeters all remind us, - While short skirts are all the go, - That to them existence must be - Just one great big burlesque show! - - * * * * * - -=_Yes, Gus, ’tis sad but only too true that in Georgia the peaches grow -on the limbs while at the beaches—but why break the monotony?_= - - * * * * * - -The hired hand, Gus, went to town the other night to a dance. When he got -back he said that “nothing stands between certain dancers and pneumonia -but a sense of loyalty to their employers.” - - * * * * * - -_Oh, Myrt, do you know Aurora Borealis? They say she was all lit up last -night._ - - * * * * * - -No, Geraldine, Sandy Hook is not a Scotchman. - - * * * * * - -I was walking down the street the other day and on the far side was a -fellow who looked familiar. “Hello, Bill,” I says. “Hello, Tom,” says he. -“My name ain’t Tom,” I says. “Well, my name ain’t Bill, either,” says -he. With that, I looks at him an’ he looks at me an’ sure enough, it was -neither of us. - - * * * * * - -Height of Speed - -_Our idea of a fast guy is one who can turn out the light and get in bed -before the room gets dark._ - - * * * * * - -Why don’t girls figure that it costs money to press trousers? - - * * * * * - -Our Book Review - -When a girl reading a novel begins to wet her lips, the hero and heroine -are about to meet. - - * * * * * - - _Girls will play fast and loose with men,_ - _We know; so what’s the use?_ - _So first we’ll hold the loose ones, then,_ - _We’ll turn the fast ones loose._ - - * * * * * - -The angels that fear to tread where fools rush in must miss a lot of fun. - - * * * * * - -=_A woman is not a heroine, Geraldine, just because she is dying for a -man._= - - * * * * * - -Ain’t It Awful, Mabel! - -Our friend Hooper writes us that last fall he was in Alaska; went out to -spend the evening with his best girl and didn’t come back for six months. -Some night, we’d say. - - * * * * * - -Height of Laziness - -A fellow who gets up at five o’clock in the morning so that he’ll have -more time to loaf. - - * * * * * - -Har, Har, Ha! - -Heard a good joke this morning. - -Is it really a good one? - -Must be. My stenographer laughed until she almost fell off my lap when I -told it to her. - - * * * * * - -A fast night makes a slow day. How well do I know it this morning. - - * * * * * - -Plug it Up - -He—My love for you is like a rushing brook. - -She—Dam it! - - * * * * * - -Oh, for a world of equal balance. Here we find some women with no -husbands atall, atall, while others have husbands and assistant husbands. - - * * * * * - -_Women are like automobiles. Some are chummy roadsters and some are -merely runabouts._ - - * * * * * - -A New Melody - -One of the latest song hits in Southern California is “And we will get a -little bungalow in Hollywood and live our own sweet way.” - - * * * * * - -_Indeed, Aloysius, you’re right—socks are the most frugal things in the -world. They wouldn’t think of dropping a scent until they’re washed. -Hoping you are the same, I am,_ - - _Antiseptically speaking,_ - - _Yours for safety first,_ - - _Bilious Billy._ - - * * * * * - -Do you need any typewriter supplies? Yes, send me two pounds of candy and -a box of chewing gum. - - * * * * * - -About the only amusement women appear to have nowadays is smoking -cigarettes, shaking the shimmy, and shooting their husbands. - - * * * * * - -=_We wonder where the pictures that used to hang in the bar rooms are -now?_= - - * * * * * - -Here It Is Again - -Don’t bother bringing in the firewood, Mother. Father will be home with a -load. - - * * * * * - -Me friend Mulligan says wan time whin two heads are not better than wan -is whin you wake up the morning after the night before. - - * * * * * - -=_Said our pet pole cat to his pretty pal: “Now, dearie, do not be so -high toned that you can’t use common sense.”_= - - * * * * * - -Talk about your nice dispositions—we have a man in our town who retires -early rather than keep the bedbugs waiting for supper. - - * * * * * - -_Has anyone heard that little ballad entitled “Who shot Nellie in the -freckle?”_ - - * * * * * - -What could be sweeter than the rib music of choir-practors. - - * * * * * - -Fair Dancer—Say, walk over your own feet! - -He—What do you think I am, a cross-country runner? - - * * * * * - -Button up your mouth, boys, you’ve ingrown heels. - - * * * * * - -Today in History - -They were married and lived snappily ever after. - - * * * * * - -_It takes a tough bird to eat currents off a live wire._ - - * * * * * - -A North Pole Ad - -(From Charlotte, N. C., Paper) - -To Sublet—Heated apartment for July and August. - - * * * * * - -“So you’ve been to Paris? How did you like the Eifel Tower?” - -“Eifel Tower? Huh, I didn’t have my eyes more than two feet off the -ground all the time I was there.” - - * * * * * - -In Our Barn Yard - - In she came; - Down she sot; - Laid a little egg, - And up she got. - - * * * * * - -“The MISERY of a CHILD—is interesting to a MOTHER! - -“The MISERY of a YOUNG MAN—is interesting to a YOUNG WOMAN! - -“The MISERY of an OLD MAN—is interesting to NOBODY!” - - * * * * * - - Roses are rare, - Violets are few, - I sure picked a lemon, - When I got you. - - * * * * * - -Joe’s a Gentleman - -“Yes,” remarked the stout lady in the private bar of the Helping Hand, -“my Joe give me a ruddy good leatherin’ larst night. You oughter see my -shoulders! They’re black and blue. But,” she added proudly,“’e never ’its -me on the face, where it’ll show. My Joe’s too much of a gentleman for -that.” - - * * * * * - -Reverting to the subject of colored babies, George Washington Jackson, -informs us that his wife presented him with one last week that weighed -only two pounds. Now he wants to know if this isn’t the first time a -colored baby was born so light. - - * * * * * - -Yes, Alfred, the ambitious girl is ambitious to make a name for herself, -but she usually ends by accepting some man’s. - - * * * * * - -Lost, Almost - -A pacifist orator in Hyde Park, London, was declaiming against war. -Seeing a returned soldier listening on the edge of the crowd, he roared -out: “See that man! He is garbed in the uniform of war. But I belong to -the army of heaven.” The “Tommy,” leisurely removing his pipe from his -mouth, dryly replied: “You’re a ’ell of a way from your barracks, then.” - - * * * * * - -The height of Sir Walter Raleighism was observed at a bathing beach last -month, when a young man carried a bathing suit clad girl from boat to -shore through six inches of water so the poor dear would not get her feet -wet. - - * * * * * - -Blessed are the orphan children, for they have no mothers to spank them. - -Blessed are they who expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed. - - * * * * * - -All we have to do in Robbinsdale to feel the spirit of the good old days -is to eat an ear of corn and drink a pint of water. - - * * * * * - -Since the country is dry why manufacture umbrellas with crooked handles -to hang over bars? - - * * * * * - -If a woman can’t break some man’s heart she gets reckless and breaks her -own. - - * * * * * - -Wise men never borrow trouble when they can borrow money instead. - - * * * * * - - One swallow doesn’t make a summer, - But one frog can make a spring. - - * * * * * - -The other day I was riding in the street car. I had my eye on a seat, but -a woman sat on it. - - * * * * * - -A chilly reception doesn’t cool one off on a hot day. - - * * * * * - -Men fight with their fists, women with their tears. - - * * * * * - -When spinsterhood is bliss, ’tis folly to be wives. - - * * * * * - -We will now sing that touching little ballad, entitled, “Girls, don’t -put make-up on your eyes, I’ll blacken ’em for you,” by the writers of -“Naughty Nellie.” - - * * * * * - - First I gave her peaches, - Then I gave her pears - Then I gave her fifty cents - And kissed her on the stairs. - - * * * * * - -What we would like to know is what part of a woman’s anatomy are the -stairs. The author evidently received his training from the late Quenton, -who reported that a South St. Paul woman was shot in the boiler room. -Well, well, I must pull another cork now. Reminds me of the time I was -half shot in the Islands. - - * * * * * - -Her’s - -Bachelor—“Do you suffer from cold feet?” - -Newlywed—“Yes, but they aren’t mine.” - - - - -_Arthur Neale’s Page_ - - -Boarding our Interborough subway car at Columbus Circle the other day en -route for our office—or, to be more exact, the office in which we have -desk room—we espied one of the loveliest young feminine creatures it -had ever yet been our good fortune to gaze on. She would have inspired -artists to undreamed of masterpieces—she would have thrilled even a -sign-painter. Bathed in her beauty we rode on, oblivious of all else—even -our getting off stop. How we wished that we knew her! At Times Square she -arose to alight. Poor girl—she was lame. - -Still reflecting on this, we reached the office and started to put the -final—not finishing—touches to the musical composition we were then at -work on, a snappy little one-step entitled “When My Baby Smiles at Me, I -Wish She’d See a Dentist.” We had no sooner put pen to paper when one of -these wandering salesmen entered the office and planked down his bag of -wares on the desk. “Would you be interested in anything in ladies’ silk -stockings?” he said. “We used to be,” we replied. “But now we know it’s -best to be careful.” - -During that day we had to make a trip further downtown, and so used -the subway again. Seated opposite to us was a very nice girl with her -mother, and her legs were crossed—that is, the girl’s legs were. As Gus -may remember, or rather, as Gus will never forget, there is a subway -breeze wafting through these cars, and it was wafting just then. The -mother noticed it, and although she spoke sotto voice—whatever that -is—we heard her say to the girl: “Put your leg down, Rosie, der vind ist -blowin’ der dress up.” “That’s all right, ma,” said the girl, “I ain’t -deformed.” And seated directly opposite, we knew that the lady was quite -correct. - -While waiting with a friend the other evening for a Times Square traffic -jam to disentangle itself, the friend drew our attention to a taxicab -stalled at the curb just where we were standing. Or, to be precise, he -drew our attention to the contents of the cab. She was a queen if there -ever was one. Said our friend: “Shouldn’t mind being in there with that -one.” “We should,” we replied. “Already the clock says $9.60.” - - * * * * * - -All Was Not Well - -“Don’t yo’ all know it’s wrong to shoot craps?” piped the preacher as he -discovered a portion of his congregation pursuing the Goddess of Chance. - -“Yas, suh,” admitted one parishioner, languidly, “an’ bulieve me, Ah’s -payin’ fo’ mah sins.” - - * * * * * - -_A Tiresome Job_ - -(From Minneapolis Journal) - -LOOK—I must sell my shoe hospital, as I am getting tired of sitting. -6383, Journal. - - * * * * * - -“You’re a stingy old tight wad, Bill.” - -“How do you make that out, Joe?” - -“Why I heard your wife say that if you owned the Atlantic Ocean you -wouldn’t even give a clam a gargle.” - - * * * * * - -Old Time Facts - - A certain young man named McGirth, - Was born on the day of his birth, - He was married they say - On his wife’s wedding day, - And he died on his last day on earth. - - * * * * * - -Pat was passing a graveyard one day and read on a tombstone, “I still -live.” - -“Be jabbers,” said Pat, “if I was dead sure I’d own up to it.” - - * * * * * - -Photographer’s Sign - -I enlarge your babies and frame them for only $5.00. - - * * * * * - - A man I know kicked up a row - That stirred the neighbors wrath - He walked up to a lady cow - And slyly pinched her calf. - - * * * * * - -Lost or Stolen - -(From Chattanooga Times.) - -$10 REWARD. Black mare stolen. Return to W. W. Bell, Tyner, Tenn. Small -wart in ear, tail chewed off at hocks; mane lays on both sides of neck; -slightly reel-footed in two feet, one front, one hind; $25 if thief is -with horse. - - * * * * * - -Mother (to battered son)—George, how many times have I told you to stop -and count to a hundred before fighting? - -George—That’s what I did, Ma, but the other kid’s mother told him to -count only ten. - - * * * * * - -Quick, Officer, He’s Bleedin’! - -Why is a woman like an umbrella? - -Because she is made of ribs and attached to a stick. - -No, have another guess. - -Because nobody ever gets the right one. - -Wrong, swing at it again. - -Because she fades with age. - -Almost, pull another. - -Because she is a good thing to have about the house. - -Rotten. Here’s the answer: A woman is like an umbrella because she is -used to “reign.” - - * * * * * - -The Human Race - - _They sat alone in the moonlight,_ - _And she soothed his troubled brow;_ - _“Dearest, I know my life’s been fast,_ - _But I’m on my last lap now.”_ - - * * * * * - -One reason there is so much sadness in the world is that somewhere it is -always time to get up in the morning. - - * * * * * - -What is a monologue? - -A conversation between husband and wife. - - * * * * * - -The Most Regular Letter - -The most popular letter is the letter “E” for it was the beginning and -last of Eve, the beginning of Eternity, the end of Time and Space, the -beginning of every end, and the end of every Race, and will always stick -to Loraine, Marie and Florence to a finish. - -It is also the most unpopular letter for it is never in Cash, always in -Debt, everlastingly in Misery, never out of Danger, and always in RENT, -HELL, and NEAR-BEER! - - * * * * * - -They called the baby Ivy because she crawled all around the house. - - * * * * * - -Our War Drama - -While in New York City recently, a member of the Wild Cat Division, now -employed in the McAlpin Hotel, related an anecdote on Paddy O’Loughlin, -one of the division headquarter shuffers. It was after the armistice -had been signed that Paddy made a flying trip to Paris, via his trusty -flivver. Upon his return he made the following report to his buddies: - -“The war ain’t finished yet, be gorra, by a hekuva sight. The battle in -Paris, which is going on right now, is a darn sight worse than we had -with the Boche. It’s a whole lot different kind of war, but a fellow -isn’t any safer on the Grand Boulevard than he was in front of a German -machine gun nest. - -“The attack started no more than I hit Paris and it got worse every -minute until I left. You bet I was lucky to come out alive. The enemy -approached me as soon as I stepped out of my truck and opened fire. -She swooped down on me like a thirsty Irishman pounces on a glass of -suds, grabbed hold of me by the arm just like we used to nab the German -prisoners and tried to carry me off. I broke away from her, but I hadn’t -gone more than fifty feet before I met another detachment of the enemy. -There were two of them this time. Say, talk about your camouflage! The -Germans or French neither never had nothing on them. Their lips were made -up like strawberries, and their eyes—oh, la! la! - -“They tried the same game on me and tried to carry me away, but I got -away from them. When I hit the Boulevard, it was just like trying to run -through a heavy barrage. They were all over, little cute one pounders and -big heavy seventy-fives. They used the old German mass formation on me -and when I tried to push through, it was worse than climbing over barb -wire entanglements in No Man’s Land. The rate of fire got hotter every -minute. I didn’t want to do it but there were too many of them and I had -to holler ‘Kamerad.’” - -We tried to get “Paddy” to tell what happened after that, but he blushed -and said that was all. - - * * * * * - -The Horse That Wins the Race - - If you ever go to races I think you’ll agree, - In the following philosophy which oft occurred to me; - Some horses start off slowly and others make the pace, - But the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race. - It doesn’t always matter which jockey has your mount, - When they rally down the homestretch, one thing alone will count, - Luck often passes merit, and for better or for worse, - The rear horse gets his lashing and the front horse takes the purse, - When dealing cards in poker you are liable to find - That two pair seldom rank as high as three cards of a kind. - The King card is high card but it doesn’t beat the ace: - The first horse at the wire is the one that wins the race. - Just look the records over, and you’ll stay with me, I guess, - That really, for succeeding, there’s nothing like success; - The world will surely judge you by the things that you have done! - You will only get its pity for your battles nearly won. - Reputation isn’t always what it’s lauded up to be, - The shallow brooks are noisiest, down flowing to the sea, - Great genius sometimes hides itself within the common face; - Dark horses beat the favorites to many a gallant race. - Endeavor may be noble, but the world doesn’t care a pin, - For an ocean of endeavors unless they chance to win. - Finish what you’ve undertaken if you want to make a name - Success has filled the niches in the temple walls of Fame. - The most successful doctor is the one that most is paid, - The merchant who most prospers is the one who gets the trade, - The most successful lawyer is the one who wins the case, - And the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race, - I often think it’s pretty hard that things should be just so, - But you have to buy your ticket if you want to see the show. - It’s the front of the procession where you always hear the band, - And the boy who gets hot peanuts is the first one at the stand. - So make your tablets ready and jot these maxims down; - It’s the peasant does the hustling and the king that wears the crown. - The man who gets the fox’s brush is the foremost in the chase, - And the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race. - - * * * * * - -Dead Earnest - - I asked a young lady if she would wed, - With a smile in her bright roguish eyes, she said: - “Go ask father.” - Now she knew that I knew - That her father was dead. - And she knew that I knew - Of the life he had led. - So she knew that I knew, - What she meant when she said, - “Go ask father.” - - * * * * * - - There was a young gent from Tex - Who made a trip over to Mex, - And when he got back - Forty pints in a sack; - He sold each pint for an X. - - * * * * * - -Scented talcum is all right, but hardly a substitute for a bath. - - * * * * * - -_Ancient But True_ - - Here’s that we may swear, steal, and lie; - When we swear may it be by the hand of justice; - When we steal may it be away from bad company; - When we lie may it be in the arms of the one we love best. - - * * * * * - -U’re Right, Professorette - -A wise woman once said there are three follies of men. The first is -climbing trees to shake down the fruit, when if they would wait long -enough the fruit would fall of its own weight; the second is going to war -to kill each other, when, if they only waited, they would die naturally, -and the third, that they run after women when, if they would not do so, -women would be sure to run after them. - - * * * * * - -Before Prohibition: “See your own country first.” - -After: “Visit foreign lands and see your own country’s thirst.” - - * * * * * - -Customer—“Bring me a Typographical Error.” - -Waiter (returning from kitchen)—“Sorry, we have none.” - -Customer—“Well, here it is on the menu.” - - * * * * * - -A Sad Story - -Ikey and Pat were wounded in an engagement in the Argonne. A priest -making the rounds found them. After giving the Irishman the last rites he -then went over to Ikey and asked, “Do you believe in the Father, Son and -Holy Ghost?” - -Ikey groaned and rolled over. - -“Oi, Oi! Here I am dying and you ask me riddles.” - - - - -_Our Rural Mail Box_ - - -=_C. U. Later_=—Sunday is the strongest day. All of the rest are weak -days. - - * * * * * - -=_Sin O. Nimm_=—Sorry, I can’t place you, but your breath smells familiar. - - * * * * * - -=_Unicorn_=—No, Uni, wrinkles do not denote the age of a prune. - - * * * * * - -=_I. C. S. Student_=—You ask me what is the most advisable course in the -mining study to take up. Would suggest that you take up Kalso Mining. - - * * * * * - -=_Reggie_=—Yes, Reginald, ’tis true, only too true, that if the man in -the moon had a baby he’d have the sky rocket. - - * * * * * - -=_Doc. Brady_=—As an instant relief for sore feet would suggest that you -walk on your hands. - - * * * * * - -=_Run-Down Ikey_=—A sure way to acquire more initiative and pep is to -wave a red shirt in front of Pedro. - - * * * * * - -Wealth is not his that has it, but his that enjoys it. - - * * * * * - -Our Exchange Story - -In the days when Lord Kitchener, the invincible bachelor, was remaking -the British Indian forces, a youthful officer asked for a furlough to go -home and be married. Kitchener listened patiently, and then spoke kindly. -“Kenilworth, you’re not yet twenty-five. You’re in the midst of a piece -of work I value and which you’re doing excellently. Wait a year. By that -time you’ll have cleaned the slate and tried out your own mind. If then -you still desire to do this thing, speak to me again, and you shall have -leave; and I’ll take you back on the staff afterwards.” The year passed, -and the officer once more proffered his request. “And you really tell -me,” asked Kitchener, “that after thinking it over for twelve months you -still wish to marry?” “Yes, sir, very much indeed.” “Adjutant,” commanded -Kitchener, “Kenilworth is to have furlough to go to his own wedding. And -frankly, my boy, I scarcely thought there was so much constancy in the -masculine world.” Kenilworth about faced and marched to the door, but -there turned and said, “Thank you, sir. Only it’s not the same woman.” - - * * * * * - -It Can’t Be Done - - “Dress up,” roared the Topper, “y’ grinnin’ baboon;” - “Dress up,” bawled the Topper, “y’ half-witted loon.” - “How can I?” asked Riley, adjusting his spur. - “How can I dress up on thirty beans per?” - - * * * * * - -On the Rocks - - _Lament of the Gold Striper_ - - “God bless you, dearie, I’ll always be waiting,” - Before I got back she’d done other mating. - With a goop that stayed home without any rating, - ’Twas while I was gone that he did all his bating. - - _Sad Refrain_: - - Nothing to think about, nothing to do, - Nothing to talk about, none to talk to, - Nothing to look at, nothing is new, - Nobody to love, no one loves you. - Nothing to drink except in the sea, - No one to say, “Have one on me,” - Bootleg it? Yes, if you have the fee, - The label is there, but it’s only weak tea. - The sun never shines, nothing but rain, - Feel sore all over, nothing but pain, - No steps forward, not any gain. - Left on the rocks, and lost in the game. - - * * * * * - -“You’ve got to admit one thing,” said the man who believes prohibition -has gone into effect, “and that is since the country went dry you don’t -see so many smashed up automobiles on the country roads.” - -“Yes,” answered his friend, as he adjusted his glasses, “a fellow who -takes more than one shot of the hootch sold nowadays never gets as far as -the city limits.” - - * * * * * - - Their jests, their quips, insipid jokes, - I’ve heard till I am full; - Why can’t the men fling bullion, - Instead of flinging bull. - - * * * * * - -I’ve been swimming a lot lately and as a result am tanned a dark brown—so -dark that my wife won’t let me out of her sight for a minute around the -lakes—she’s afraid some women follower of the Stillman divorce case will -mistake me for an Indian guide. - - - - -_The Annual Is Out!_ - - -Whiz Bang’s greatest book—The Winter Annual Pedigreed Follies of -1921-22—hot off the press. Mailing will begin in a few days. To those -thousands of Captain Billy’s friends who already have sent in their one -dollar bills, checks or stamps, we extend congratulations. Yours will go -out first, in the order in which your orders were and are being received. - -PIN A DOLLAR BILL - - Or your check, money order or stamps - To the coupon on the opposite page. - -And receive our 256-page bound volume of jokes, jests, jingles, stories, -pot pourri mail bag and Smokehouse poetry. The best collection ever put -in print. - -REMEMBER, FOLK - -Last year our Annual (which was only one-fourth as large as the 1921-22 -book) was sold out on the Pacific Coast within three or four days, and -not a copy could be bought =anywhere= in the United States within ten -days. - -So hurry up! First Come will be First Served! - -Pin your dollar bill to the coupon and mail to the Whiz Bang Farm, -Robbinsdale, Minn. - -Don’t write for early back copies of our regular issues. - -We haven’t any left. - - - - -_Our Winter Annual_ - - -In addition to republication of gems of earlier issues of Captain Billy’s -Whiz Bang, the first complete Winter Annual of this great family journal -will contain a large variety of brand new jokes, jests, jingles, pot -pourri, stories, and smokehouse poetry. This book, Pedigreed Follies of -1921-22, will contain four times as much reading matter as the regular -issue of the Whiz Bang and will sell for one dollar per copy. It will be -a book which will be cherished by the readers for years to come, and will -contain the greatest collection of red-blooded poetry yet put in print. -Included in the list will be: - - Johnnie and Frankie, The Face on the Barroom Floor, The - Shooting of Dan McGrew, The Harpy, Lasca (in full), The Girl - in the Blue Velvet Band, Langdon Smith’s “Evolution,” Advice - to Men, Advice to Women, Our Own Fairy Queen, Stunning Percy - LaDue, Parody on Kipling’s “The Ladies,” Toledo Slim. - -Advance orders are now being received and will be mailed in the order in -which they are received. Tear off the attached blank and mail to us today -with your check, money order or stamps. - - * * * * * - - Whiz Bang, - Robbinsdale, Minnesota. - - Gentlemen: - - Enclosed is dollar bill, check, money order or stamps for $1.00 - for which please send me the Winter Annual of Captain Billy’s - Whiz Bang, “Pedigreed Follies of 1921-22.” - - Name.............................................. - - Address........................................... - - - - -_Everywhere!_ - - -_Whiz Bang_ is on sale at all leading hotels, news stands, 25 cents -single copies; on trains 30 cents, or may be ordered direct from the -publisher at 25 cents single copies; two-fifty a year. - -[Illustration] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, Vol. 3, No. -25, October, 1921, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BILLY'S WHIZ BANG, OCT 1921 *** - -***** This file should be named 61435-0.txt or 61435-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/4/3/61435/ - -Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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