Life — August 17, 1922 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

Paradox Lost “ Y dear boy,” he said, as he turned on his heel, “you be- long to that division of the world that wears rubbers.” He strode grandly down the ave- nue of laughter. Yeah! Ido,eh!” I choked. “You —you mean, you do!” * * * \Vhen I thought it over the next morning, while I was brushing my tect before the glass, it impressed me somehow that I hadn’t done as well as I might have. In fact, the more I considered it, the more I was inced that my reply was a little It was ineffectual, like warm d. I decided to forget it. ‘ow, it would have been better, | pondered, as I squeezed the strip oi paste onto my brush, it would 1 been better perhaps if I had ely resented it; even struck him. | might have done that, I thought. I might have; and yet I should have liked to meet him with his own weapons. An epigram, perhaps; I put some more paste on my brush, the other strip having in some way got rubbed all over my shoe. ~Division—wears—rub’s—ab,” I muttered, scrubbing my teeth sav- “T’d rather do that, my dear boy.” T said with all the sarcasm I 1 agely. could muster, setting down my brush on the edge of the tumbler and glar- ing at myself in the glass, “I’d rather wear rubbers than not know enough to come in when it rains.” It was very impressive; my eyes were like narrow slits. Of course that was descending to his own level, I pondered as I cov- ered my face with lather. It seemed childish to answer him back. I could see the group of men and women around him now. I con- tinued oblivious of him, stropping my razor. “You belong to that division of the world that wears rub- bers,” he leered. I lazily completed a magnificent swath down the side of my cheek, and turned slowly. I glanced him up and down. “In—deed!” I said, bowing low and getting lather on my shoulder. “Jn—deed !” I could see them leading him away. * * * “John,” said my wife, who is al- ways worrying about little things, “you're going to be late for break- fast, taking so long shaving.” “My dear child,” I said, shaking my head. “You know, you belong to that division of the world that wears rubbers.” C. A. F. gine ADA Giyy mar? youny coves’ . 25 Pereact cmzen 23 The Young Intellectual to His Love H, come with me, and we will try The Great Experiment, you and I, And each fulfill our several missions Free from the usual inhibitions. Oh, come with me and be my mate, And we forthwith will emigrate To countries which, I am advised, Are more completely civilized. You may express, for all of me, Your Individuality ; Your freedom I will not restrain, Nor take your Maiden Name in vain. And since our plane lies far above The crass vulgarities of Love, Our union surely will be blessed With Thoughts, impeccably ex- pressed. S. K. Suspicious Dry Acent: I'll bet my pile that Deacon Jones has a stock of home brew in his cellar. “Deacon Jones? Impossible!” “Well, then, tell me why the flies are buzzin’ out of his cellar windows backward and in circles.” Really, these “once overs” by distinguished foreign visitors are making us self-conscious comicbooks.com