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.
WE’LL TELL THE PLEIADES SO.
Sir: “I’ll say she is,” “Don’t take it so hard,” “I’ll tell the world.” These, and other slangy explosives from our nursery, fell upon the sensitive auditory nerves of callers last evening. I am in a quandary, whether to complain to the missus or write a corrective letter to the children’s school teachers, for on the square some guy ought to bawl the kids out for fair about this rough stuff—it gets my goat. J. F. B.