In the new Folies Bergere show, Paris, the girlies are clad entirely in paint, news dispatches state.
* * *
“Are your feet insured?” I asked
A dancing girl from France.
No answer. Then she said at last:
“It’s not that kind of dance.”
* * *
In any newspaper you can find pictures of charming women underneath which it reads: “Miss So-and-So, 20 years of age.” (Why do those printers always leave out that word “was”?)
* * *
As I was toying with the N. Y. Coffee Cake in the Times Square Automat the other day, I sighted an old friend I hadn’t seen for several years. I went up to him and said: “Why, Billy, where have you been keeping yourself all these years?” He said: “Well, early in 1914 I went to Paris to study art.” “Is that so?” I said; “and did you get far with your studies?” “Well,” he said, “it was like this. When I arrived there in June, 1914, we began by taking studies from the head. In July it was head and shoulders; and in August, in August that darned war started. Bad luck to the Germans!”