Dear Captain Billy—I visited a nice little girl the other evening and she would not let me kiss her. Instead, she insisted on kissing a perfumed Persian kitten she held in her lap. What would you advise me to do?—Bashful Bert.
On your next visit, select a dark and dismal night and at the psychological time meow like a cat. Maybe she won’t know the difference.
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Dear Captain Billy—I am a young married man. There is a handsome married woman, the wife of a traveling man, across the hall. She has a phonograph and each evening when he is away she plays such records as: “Lonesome,” “I Know That You Are Married,” “Won’t You Come Over to My House,” “Won’t You Come Over and Play?” Do you think I should take a chance?—Phical Phil.
You are hereby referred to the poem “Johnny and Frankie,” which appears in the Smokehouse section of this issue.
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Dear Captain—What large stream flows from North to South?—D. Jennie Rate.
Hootch, my dear.
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Dear Capt. Billy—When I sing I get tears in my eyes. What can I do for this?