SIMPLE
My readers are a varied lot;
Their tastes do not agree.
A squib that tickles A is not
At all the thing for B.
What’s sense to J, is folderol
To K, but pleases Q.
So, when I come to fill the Col,
I know just what to do.
It is refreshing to find in the society columns an account of a quiet wedding. The conventional screams of a groom are rather trying.
A man will sit around smoking all day and his wife will remark: “My dear, aren’t you smoking too much?” The doctor cuts him down to three cigars a day, and his wife remarks: “My dear, aren’t you smoking too much?” Finally he chops off to a single after-dinner smoke, and when he lights up his wife remarks: “John, you do nothing but smoke all day long.” Women are singularly observant.
[p 2]
]NO DOUBT THERE ARE OTHERS.
Sir: A gadder friend of mine has been on the road so long that he always speaks of the parlor in his house as the lobby. E. C. M.
With the possible exception of Trotzky, Mr. Hearst is the busiest person politically that one is able to wot of. Such boundless zeal! Such measureless energy! Such genius—an infinite capacity for giving pains!
Ancestor worship is not peculiar to any tribe or nation. We observed last evening, on North Clark street, a crowd shaking hands in turn with an organ-grinder’s monkey.
“In fact,” says an editorial on Uncongenial Clubs, “a man may go to a club to get away from congenial spirits.” True. And is there any more uncongenial club than the Human Race? The service is bad, the membership is frightfully promiscuous, and about the only place to which one can escape is the library. It is always quiet there.
Sign in the Black Hawk Hotel, Byron, Ill.: “If you think you are witty send your thoughts to B. L. T., care Chicago Tribune. Do not spring them on the help. It hurts efficiency.”
[p 3]
]AN OBSERVANT KANSAN.
[From the Emporia Gazette.]
The handsome clerk at the Harvey House makes this profound observation: Any girl will flirt as the train is pulling out.
THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD.
She formerly talked of the weather,
The popular book, or the play;
Her old line of chat
Was of this thing or that
In the fashions and fads of the day.
But now she discusses eugenics,
And things that a pundit perplex;
She knocks you quite flat
With her new line of chat,
And her “What do you think about sex?”
“Are we all to shudder at the name of Rabelais and take to smelling salts?” queries an editorial colleague. “Are we to be a wholly lady-like nation?” Small danger, brother. Human nature changes imperceptibly, or not at all. The objection to most imitations of Rabelais is that they lack the unforced wit and humor of the original.
A picture of Dr. A. Ford Carr testing a baby provokes a frivolous reader to observe that when [p 4] />]the babies cry the doctor probably gives them a rattle.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN “ALMOST”!
[From the Cedar Rapids Republican.]
The man who writes a certain column in Chicago can always fill two-thirds of it with quotations and contributions. But that may be called success—when they bring the stuff to you and are almost willing to pay you for printing it.