Yes, God Bless ’Em
Skipper Bill:
May you grant me the privilege of expostulating to the tune of a jazz strain, which is indicative of life, the melody of the living and the nemesis of the dead, and dying.
Under the cloak of religion there are too many one-cylinder brains functioning to the detriment of our country, creed and constitution, and the space you allotted to the vituperations of an ecclesiastic ass, yclept Rev. J. Herbden Walters, was just two pages too much.
Women have always been enigmas so far as man is concerned, and it doesn’t require any brand of spiritual interpretation to convince us mortals that such a condition is in keeping with Allah’s plan of things.
No man who ever fell for the charms of a woman can point an accusing finger at her. When she makes herself “sweet to look upon” she is but fulfilling her destiny on this earth, and the power of man was created for the sole purpose of battering down her resistence—that’s God’s law; it’s the same in all forms of life.
No, Bill, his dose is diarrhoetic and we are not seeking purgatives. His mentality is sadly lacking and his virility could well be questioned. Personally, such festers on our social cosmos sort o’ rankles me, for I try to atune myself to the Greater Law.
In closing, and ere I sign my John Henry to these sentiments, let me enlist the eloquence of Alexander Smith, whose brain gave birth to these lines:
“The saddest thing that can befall a soul,
Is when it loses faith in God and woman.”
One of the male specie,
E. W. WELTY.
1819 West Seventh St., Los Angeles, Cal.
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Mary D.—No, Mary. Do not worry. Bank examiners will not inspect your “First National.” I fear when we reach that day there will be more candidates for bank examiner than for president of this good old U. S. A.
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Knuts Gazoobus—If you are certain your pet skunk has fleas there is but one remedy I can suggest and that is the tying of a good hefty chunk of dynamite to the tail of the animal. I’ve been up against the polecat of Northern Minnesota and the flea of dear old Frisco and the devil save me from meeting both at the same time.
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Beautiful Katie—This is the army recipe for hash: See that the dog is a fairly fat one. Hit him over the head with an axe and allow him to boil three hours. Chop into mince meat and mix in a lot of potatoes, onions and sage. Serve hot. Cats take only 20 minutes.
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Dan M.—Should you accidentally upset a cup of coffee on the tablecloth, do not stare at it in consternation and exclaim “This is a hell of a note!” Laugh it off pleasantly and apologize to the hostess.
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Daffy Dill—Your question is rather absurd and my answer is NO, I have never heard a porcupine for its mate. But I have seen a gopher go for a gopher.
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Oliver Towne—I can’t quite agree with you as to the world’s greatest historical event. How about the time that Antony made a date with Cleopatra?
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J. C. R.—Yes, you are correct. The women’s wearing apparel nowadays are held up by nothing more than a string of beads on one side and the kindness of heaven on the other.
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Happy Harriet—It is quite true that a teakettle full of water sings, but whoinel wants to be a teakettle.
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James B.—I am not positive as to the number of years the government has been trying to obliterate moonshining in Kentucky. I do know, however, that they’re taking in lots of territory now.
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Hubby: “Let’s name our darling baby ‘Prohibition.’”
Wifelets: “I should say not. He’ll never be a ‘dry’.”
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