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.
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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.
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