Judge — October 1937 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

the Reich in the black; Adolf would draw even better than an embalmed whale. R. AND MRS. CHARLES COOP- ER, of Paterson, N.J., went away on a vacation. While they were gone a thief entered their house, called up a second-hand furniture dealer and sold their furniture for $25.00. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, we predict, are going to be a pushover for the first trailer sales- man who happens along. Verse and Verse OvuR interest in regional poetry was iven a sudden impetus when we heard some Louisiana children intoning this version of Marjorie Daw: See-saw, Marj'rie Daw, Sold her bed To lie on the straw. ‘Wasn't she The awful slut To sell her bed And lie in the dut! We recited it fr lee. fully until we realized by the facial ex. pression on many of our hearers that they were really embarrassed. It seems they thought “‘slut” was a bad word. In case any of our readers are harboring the same delusion we are happy to puri- fy their minds. Slut is a synonym of slattern, nothing more. Even our purest readers, and we have some who are lily pure, could find not the faintest blush in the autobio- graphical poem sent in by an inmate of a Louisiana prison to the literary edi- tor of a New Orleans paper. We quote the initial lines: Mother was a washwoman, Father was the goat, Sister was too young to work,— I was their sole suppote. We are pleased to accord to the young man’s lines the dignity of print denied them by the New Orleans edi- tor, and apologize to him and to our readers because lack of space forbids our reproducing the ensuing seventeen pages. It is also gratifying to be able to pro- vide a wider audience for the high light of an original poem recited by a partici- ant in the program of a Texas picnic Retd in Los Angeles, parenthetically ently and e apologizing for the lady, who we as- sume did not intend the implied slur on that fairest of cities: I want to go back to the land of the clemahtis, I want to go back—for that is where my h’'a’t is. We hope the lady’s mind is never disturbed YY the knowledge that clem- atis is accented on the first syllable. Nostalgia is enough. Bronx Cheer N INTREPID promoter of exhibits pachydermal in one of the mid- western cities had trouble in securing sterling wrestlers for his bouts. It was their contention that the citizens of the town were not giving them the proper support. After wracking his brains for weeks, he worked out a solution: When his wrestlers dissent now, he shows them a stipulation in the contract whereby they are allowed a two minute rest period every half hour—at which time they can stand up and boo the audience to their heart's content. ‘THE government has a lobster hatch. ery at Noank, Connecticut, and one employee there has quite a neat little job. He is diving instructor to lobsters. Evidently baby lobsters lead a rather precarious existence until they get it through their bony skulls that they are safest at the bottom. We know prac- tically nothing about this particular pro- fession, but presumably the diving is taught in the usual manner. No doubt the man stands at the side of the tank and says “Attention, class. Now hold your hands thus, and your feet thus and then—" And all around the baby lob- sters give him their undivided attention and after only four lessons become ex- pert divers. Rum Stuff UM manufacture as a PWA project to rehabilitate the Virgin Islands was undertaken with enthusiasm by President Roosevelt. It is said he de- signed the label on the now familiar “Government House” rum bottle. Similarly infected, Secretary Ickes let himself in for the Chairmanship of the Virgin Islands Company, the govern- ment financed corporation that makes the rum. Then came publicity which was so bold as to announce that the govern. ment was in the liquor business. Whether the squawk from the drys was louder than that from the distillers is still in doubt, but the political storm immediately made a Virgin Islands hurricane look like somebody cooling their tea. As the battle raged, a dispatch from the Virgin Islands announced that 7,000 cases of the rum, the official first ship- ment to the United States, were being loaded aboard the New York bound steamer. The drys somehow read into the dispatch that the rum was consigned to the White House, a rather wild mis. reading of the text. One Methodist dignitary in Washing. ton told a Bible class that this rum was destined for the White House. As he warmed to his subject, he visualized orgies in which the cabinet and diplo. matic corps reeled. Mrs. Roosevelt promptly denied the use of anything stronger than wine— and that infrequently—at White House functions. She did, however, venture the guess that rum was good in mince pies. When the rum itself arrived at a Brooklyn pier, its reception was a bit short of acclaim. Experts withheld their raves. However, the Union League Club stopped vociferating against the PWA long enough to order one of the first cases. Slip Knot WHEN some couples decide that they can no longer make a go of matri- mony they split their belongings between themselves and call the whole thing off. Usually, however, the distribution is made on an equitable basis, if any. These are the more commonplace or garden variety of people—the home. dwellers. Not so the nomads! Witness the case of a woman who complained to the police of an eastern city that her husband left her inadvertently and with. out warning. He simply unhooked the trailer and drove off with the car. Hard- ly a fair split, we would say. Just recently King George the Sixth held a chapter of the Knights of the Garter: the first time in twenty-three years that this ceremony has taken place. The members of this ancient order wore dark blue garters (edged with gold) on their left legs. That is, all except Queen Elizabeth who was also present. She wore her garter on the left arm. Even- tually this new knee length hosiery is going to do the garter business a lot of harm. ACCORDING to a recent dispatch, a prospective juryman in Los Angeles by the name of Perry L. Wilden sud- denly found himself face to face with his past when asked by Commissioner H. B. Blakely if he had ever been ar- rested for anything. Mr. Wilden comicbooks.com