Life — April 5, 1928 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

32 Home Hints for the Thirsty ~Sy N these Prohibition days it is a problem to keep one’s bridge table in good condition. We have seen many parties spoiled when the overturning of a glass of gin flavored with a dash of ginger ale has ruined tke hostess’ new table and the cards, which when dry will be as easy to play with as a pile of clam-shells. Sometimes glasses are overturned by design. We know a tactful man who plays bridge badly. The other alent he trumped his partner's a ing up his mind instantly that to “be nonchalant and light a Murad” would not be enough to divert atten- tion from his faur pas, instead he nudged his glass, which responded faithfully. The trumped ace was forgotten in the ensuing excitement. Such tact is rare, thank God—but it has to be reckoned with. We hav rather ingenious in- vention—my wife's idea: a flat glass tank firmly attached to the under- side of the bridge table. The players cut to see who shall choose the drink of the evening. (Of course this is a mere formality, as nobody in these days has anything but gin; but it adds to the fun.) At each corner of the bridge table there is a hole bored, through which the guest sticks a straw. We find this a very satisfactory arrangement, except wh sts absent-mindedly drop cigarette ashes or butts in the little holes. A lighted match dropped i means an_ explosion, , if it occurs late at night, dis- turbs the other tenants, maiming a guest or two. We know a fastidious housekeeper who, for the sake of her handsome bridge table, has ceased to serve any besides ik: How fast are we going, Captain? Cartat About knots, madam. “Knots, knots? Why didn’t I sail on the Aquitania, where they speak English?” Lavy FROM Forticn twenty-two. drinks whatever during _ bridge. We understand that she is very much alone, and is learning to play solitaire. M. P. Johnson. OE: Were you flabbergasted when ssed you? &: I was. But I staged a come- The Man from Mexico “Sy is it true that you just ar rived from Mexico?” “Yes, I'm from Mexico. No, the weather forecast down there isn’t always ‘Chili to-night; hot tamale.’ Yes, we have some trouble keep- ing track of the revolutions per min- ute. No, I’ve never found more than one olive in a tamale. Yes, I've rd about the peons of praise when indbergh reached Mexico City. No, I've never heard of a bathtub sales- man making a fortune down there. Yes, when a Mexican comes home and tells his wife he’s running for president she figures he's half-shot. No, the president’s name isn’t pro- nounced ‘Callous.’ And now, amigo, I hope I've answered all the wise- cracks you had in mind. If I've overlooked any, come around ma- ana.” Chet Johnson, If College Boys Talked as They Do in the College Magazines “T SAY, Chanticleer, wilt thou gimmest me a light from yon cigarette? ‘i “Right merrily, I will, Adoles- cence. I hear that thee hast lost thy old chariot.” “Oons.” “But, Humptomala, what boots it? Did thee not ask thy pater for a new ea, Sophronisba, I did query him, whereupon he did smite me with such vigor that my bowels melted within me.” “Rowdy-dow, Alcibiades, behold these tears.” “Well, whoops, my dear, I must be trotting along.” “Whoops!” Eastward BouND— Westward Bounn, comicbooks.com