Life — December 21, 1922 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

Things Li FE CWould Rather Like to Know HERE Senator Moses when New Hampshi went out. was e's light * ok x Why Augustus Thomas doesn't protect the theatrical managers from the ticket speculators. * * * Why Chicago doesn’t prevent May- or Thompson's reputation from spreading. * * * Whether Jersey justice isn't blind in one eye, and can't see out of the « other. * * * Whether Clemenceau discovered what interests Americans more than themselves. ee * What Wayne Wheeler's decision will be about the United States Su- preme Court. * * * Whether Yale still considers foot- ball a major sport. * * * Why short story writers always put their characters in public restau- rants to conduct private conversa- tions. * * * Who has placed the ban on Owen Wister’s latest book, “Neighbors Henceforth.” What chance a letter bearing the proposed thirteen-cent stamp would have of reaching its destination. * * * If the female members of the Ku Klux Klan wear invisible hair nets. * * * How many Broadway managers discovered at the same time that there had been a playwright named Shake- speare. x ok Ok If our standing army might not just as well sit down. x ok Ox How far Tammany Hall is from the White House. * * * Whom President Harding will sup- port for the Republican nomination in 1923. * * * Why newspapers still print edi- torial pages. * * * If Hollywood is the capital of Moronia. * * * Whether Lloyd George left in- structions to have his mail forwarded from No. 10 Downing Street, or to have it held until his return. Spendthrift T seven or eight, I quickly spent My small allowance—every cent— For popcorn balls and peanut bars And swarthy chocolate cigars. My parents never really knew The half—I told a fib or two. As I grew up, there came to me An increase. Just as rapidly I parted with my meed of cash For what my elders labeled “trash”: Specimen bugs and friendship hearts, Trick stationery, cherry tarts, Brass bracelets, china dolls beads, Hair-ribbons’ far beyond my needs; The soda-water that I drank Would fill a large Socony tank; A young and reckless patron I, Who never put a penny by. and A flapper, I remained unchanged: More widely then my fancy ranged, At crucial interviews I'd hear, “Where does your money go, my dear?” It went for perfumes, scented soap, Sheet music, sidecombs, Watts’s “Hope,” Embroidery cotton, painted trays, Sweets, sweaters, club dues, matinees And chestnuts—footless things like that; My pocketbook was always flat. I thought, of course, the years would bring Discretion, thrift, and everything. They haven't. Still my income goes For futile frills and bibelots; For hats I know I'll never wear, For waves that vanish from my hair, For bath salts, earrings, bits of lace, For lotions to anoint my face, For linen that I do not use, Victrola records, bootleg booze, For colored crystal, monograms And other people’s little slams, With gay abandon I disburse The total contents of my purse. So, though I have a ripping time, I never shall lay up a dime. B. L. A POLITE comedy is a serious play in which the characters are courte- ously impolite. CELLAR steps will be very much worn this winter. comicbooks.com