THEY FOUND THEM IN THE ALLEY.
Sir: A young man promised a charming young woman, as a birthday remembrance, a rose for every year she was old. After he had given the order for two dozen Killarneys, the florist said to his boy: “He’s a good customer. Just put in half a dozen extra.” M. C. G.
“When,” inquires a fair reader, apropos of our remark that the only way to improve the so-called human race is to junk it and begin over again, “when does the junking begin? Because …” Cawn’t say when the big explosion will occur. But look for us in a neighboring constellation.
When they junk the human species
We will meet you, love, in Pisces.
THE TOONERVILLE TROLLEY.
Sir: Did you ever ride on a street car in one of those towns where no one has any place to go and [p 16] />]all day to get there in? The conversation runs something like this between the motorman and conductor:
Conductor: “Ding ding!” (Meaning, “I’m ready whenever you are.”)
Motorman: “Ding ding!” (“Well, I’m ready.”)
Conductor: “Ding ding!” (“All right, you can go.”)