Probably a Boxing Match
She (just back from Paris): “I can’t go to this dance tonight, my trunks haven’t arrived.”
He: “Good Lord, what kind of a dance do you think this is going to be?”
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If you interfere between man and wife, remember this, that they will be friends again and you won’t.
Smokehouse Poetry
In the September issue Smokehouse Poetry will feature The Unwritten Law by Budd McKillips, author of After the Raid, which scored such a recent success in the Whiz Bang, and Angela Morgan’s poem, Betrayed.
Bad, hopelessly bad!
I yielded to love that sways mankind,
Not the mere measure of bodily pleasure,
But love that wakes in the soul and mind,
Born of the spirit at God’s behest;
And I bartered all I had,
I, with the warmth of a child at my breast—
Am bad, hopelessly bad!
That is the start of Miss Morgan’s plea for the woman who falls and brings to memory the biblical words, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” There will be several other red-blooded gems in the smokehouse poetry section next month.
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