The Saturday Evening
PEST
March, 1955
Whenever friends drop in on Sir Banana Von Baboon, he serves LORD CULPRIT ... a delicious blend of choice swamp waters and coconut milk. Sir Von Baboon has this to say about LORD CULPRET. "ughhlmmphgrrs siii!" Could you ask for a higher reccommendation?
THESATURDAYEVENINGPEST
Published by THEMESSENGER
University of Richmond
Kathearine Severance, Editor
Dick Gage, Associate Editor Lester N. ·Blakiston, Business Manager
Ken Mace, Art Editor Exchange Editor, LoisReamy
Margaret Logan, AssistantBusinessManager
Editorial Assi st a nt s: Lester N. Blakiston, Dick Bell , Walter Grutchfield, Mary Elizabeth Hix, Gene Hans- le y , Joan Gaye Levy , Charlotte Henley, Jody Stone, Saul Slatoff, Carl Hennessey, Carmen Austin, Adair McConnell , Margaret Logan , John Crawford
TheWineoftheKine
By Rosalind Allen
A
Parody
of "The Rape of the Lock"
From CANTO II
To Paris, on the Seine, a group then came Of cuisiniers of much reputed fame. From Beam and Perigord and famed Bordeaux Gourmets arrived in haste, both friend and foe. And France was there to represent the state, A banquet 'twas (but more than that 'twas fate.)
When Mendes-France arrived a silence fell On one and all, gourmets, and chefs as well. Then quickly Andre greeted Franoe with charm; 1 He dared not have this man arouse alarm. Andre himself 'gainst Mendes-France conspired, So sat down at the table by his side; And Mendes-France sat calmly with his hosts, Not knowing their conspiracies and boasts.
CANTO III
With cocktails was the banquet then begun, And Mendes-Franoe had milk (while some made fun!)
Blue trout with purple wine they all were served (The wine in oaken casks had been preserved.) Gourmets and connoisseurs voiced loud their praise,
And seemed, as poets, almost drunk with lays. Andre turned to Mendes-France, his honored guest,
Wide-eyed beheld Pierre drink milk with zest.
"The best of Bacchus' blessed vineyard treasure Is offered you, and still you find no pleasure. What is it then will satisfy your taste?"
Andre demanded, as his guest he faced.
"In France all Frenchmen by their wine survive, Choice drink, which makes it good to be alive. I comprehend you not, say if you will, Wherefore you choose your glass with milk to fill."
Then Mendes-Franoe whom thirst of milk invites
Proposed the means to justify his rights,
To prove to Frenchmen bold for once and all That wine, like Eden's apple, caused man's fall.
"I challenge you, Andre, to drink your wine
While I drink milk, until tonight we'll find Who'll be at contest's end drunk on the ground , While I with strength and energy abound. Remember this, the contest does not cease
Until we have a victor to release."
A hush ensued, then brave Andre agreed; Garcons brought forth both milk and wine wit h speed.
The guests to cheer the battle formed a line, And vats stood ready, filled with milk and wine. Then hovered close the spirits of the air, To whom had been entrusted Pierre's care.
Andre and Mendes-France began to drink; Each drained a goblet faster than you'd think, Then seized another and another still, And even more thay drank, nor had their fill. '''Praise Bacchus!" gasped Andre between two swallows.
"Good health, endure!" from Mendes-France th en follows.
Each raised another goblet to his lips, And drank it down with gulps, not little sips Onlookers, awed, still watched and cheered th e two,
And wondered, with the outcome, what'd ensu e
At last Andre began a drunken sway (Will France then win th' intoxicated fray?) Pierre thought every breath was Andre's last; He shouted, "Triumph!" but too soon, too fast. Andre with heaving breast to garcons turned And said, while violent rage within him burne d, "Let soured milk his triumph goblet be, And if his win or mine we then shall see!"
The evil deed was done at his command, The guardian sprites seemed helpless to withst and. For Mendes-France raised high his vict'ry glass, Then swallowed every drop (oh, fates, alas!) With groans of agony France fell to earth
(His gastric pains surpassed those of childbir t h. ) (Continued on page 14)
1 Andre Deroire is director of the Societe des Cuisiniers de Paris.
Annette Quelquefois was the third daughter of an ancient Creole family. The Quelquefois family could trace its ancestry back to me first settlers in Louisiana, and now forms the backbone of New Orleans society. The women of the family were all ravishing beauties, bred on a diet of magnolia and jasmin extract, supplemented by the voodoo chant of their mammies Annette's older sister had driven so many bright young men to dispair and frustration that she inspired George Gershwin to immortalize her in song. He called his opus A Woman is a Sometime Thing, and it soon became one of the most popular songs in his successful musical Porgy and Bess.
Annette, at birth, possessed all the earmarks of a t r u e Creole beauty. (These earmarks are found on the lobe of the ear and are not unlike an entwined WC.) It was not until she reached adolescence that her weakness for jambalaya - fishy , fattening, flavorful jambalaya-was discovered She loved that jambalaya with a passion that was more than passion itself - every calorie in every spoonful of the bayou delicacy. Her family, shocked at the appearance of a fat and ugly duckling in their midst, tried fruitlessly t o impress Annette's failure on her, but this did nothing but give t he girls an inferiority complex. This of course made her eat still more, and soon her bulk defied all ttempts of Mainbocher, Dior, and Rob ert Hall to disguise it with J othes. Ellzabeth Arden, Dorot hy G r a y, Jacquelin Cochrane, Claire DuBarry-all failed. Annett e still looked like Max Factor, only plumper.
The afternoon before her debut i n t o society, Annette, exhausted c ft er a vain battle of the bulge, c m e to the shattering realization t ere was no evening dress which uld possibly be conceived large MARCH, 1955
SHRIMPBOATS'ANNETTE BREAKSBAD
By Chole Okefenokee
How could she know the SaturdayEveningPest would change her life?
enough for her to get into. She lay-supinely huge, on her Hollywood bed which stood like a vast p 1 a t e a u in her Louis Quinze boudoir idly, she flipped through the latest pile of slick magazines, sighing at the gaunt figures of the fashion models in the ads.
She was on the verge of complete despair when a vivid panorama of sea, tempest, and human struggle on page 31 of the Saturday Evening Post caught her eye. The figures in the illustration looked so~so vivid-so athleticlike people who drank their whiskey neat and thought Martini was the name of a dance band who dared give Richmond the shaft.
Entranced, Annette became spellbound when she reallz?d that one of these demigods-the one who was bringing a zinc-plated bucket down on the head of a cursing sailor - was actually a woman! A woman who was big, bulky, and obviously, joyously so! No puny efforts of Mainbocher were employed to make her the most striking figure Annette had ever seen. She was dressed simply, in an oilskin slicker and sou'wester. And her hair looked as if it hadn't been washed for months! Fingering her own newly •- created coiffure, Annette fell to reading the story beneath the picture: a story titled "Tugboat Annie Has the Answer;"
a story which changed her life.
At six that evening, Annette's second maid tapped discreetly on her door, inquiring whether madam was ready for the first maid to come and dress her. Receiving no answer, she ventured into the mimosa-scented salon, only to find her mistress lying trance-like on the chaise longue, mumbling incoherently about New York Harbor and "that rattlesnake aboard the Salamander."
"Madam wishes - , " the maid began hesitantly.
"Stand by to hand the foresail! Haul off on the lanyard of the whip-staff! Belay the fore-down -haul and hand the mizzen! Look alive, ye swabs!" Annette was galvanized into action, shouting commands at the top of her voice. The maid fled, fear bred in her heart by her mistress' hoarse voice and militant tone.
Annette strode through the ancestral halls of her ancestral home, out the huge live-oak door, and down the lane lined with swamp maple. Leaping into a skiff tied to the jetty, she pulled off, leaving her home, her family, and her fabulously expensive debutante party far, far behind. She was free, she was happy. And all she had to do was find a slicker somewhere, lay in a month's supply of jambalaya, (Continued on page 13)
Hedidn'tknowwhathewasgettingintowhenshesaid
What'sYourName?
By F r ank and Anne Mumbug
Dick was just wiping the greas e from his fingers when the drea rolled up "Beautiful, "he though t , as his eyes swept the long clea lines with the curves in all th right places. His whole day brigh tened, and he walked eagerly t o ward the vision. Then he notic ed that a girl was there, too . "Hello," she murmured. H e." voice was low and seductive a nd seemed to flow from her dia phragm which, if it matched t he rest of her, must have been t he shapliest diaphragm in captivit y Something in his stomach leap ed suddenly. He decided that J oe's lunches were getting worse ever y day Then he noticed that the girl was beautiful. "Regular or h igh· test?"
She raised limpid brown eyes fringed by incredibly long dark lashes to him. " Whatever you like," she said simply.
While he filled the gas tank (he decided to make it high-test ) of the Easter-egg violet Lincoln convertible, he noticed every det ail. The girl's husky voice poured 0:1.
UNIVERSITY MESSEN GER
Gradually it dawned on him that she was telling him that she had just come to town. Finally he was so overcome with admiration that he thought he would burst if he didn't say something to her. "The most b e a u t i f u 1 body I've ever seen," he said, "and I've seen a lot of 'em. All makes, all models."
The girl's ripe red lips parted, her small pointed chin dropped, her mouth opened. His eyes were glazed with longing. He had to say it. "It's always been my dream to have one of my own. An Easteregg violet 1955 Lincoln convertible with white side-wall tires."
He noticed that her cheeks had become very pink. Then he was once more lost in admiration as the huge machine rolled smoothly away from him. "Best working pistons I ever saw," he muttered.
An hour later she was back. It was closing time and Dick was getting ready to close. He made it a policy not to service cars after closing time, and a rule not to break his policy, so he didn't look up when the three octave horn blew. His first indication that someone was there occurred when he glanced up from his tire expecting to see the same bleak gray cinder-block wall and he didn't see cinder-blocks, but two well-filled s heer nylons.
"I forgot to pay you for my g asoline," she said.
"Did you?" he said. "I really hadn't noticed."
"I always pay my debts," she said. "Would you like to go swimm ing? They tell me there's a b each. My name's Jane Summers You look tired and dirty. It would d o you good. What's yours?"
Dick had the feeling that he'd on e out after the first part of the 1rst movie of a double feature and come in at the last half of the second movie. "Well. ... " he said. t seemed a safe answer.
"Good," she said "Let's go." Fifteen minutes later they were at the beach. The waves crashed MARCH, 1955
in on the sand in huge foaming, swirling, breaking breakers. "I can hardly wait to jump in," she said. "It looks wonderful! Don't you want to just jump right in and get wet all over?"
"Not particularly," he said. "This is the place they dump the city sewage and besides I don't have my bathing suit."
Half an hour later they were at the filling station again. "Well, it took twice as long by the short cut," she breathed, "but it was worth it. Do run in and put on your tuxedo and let's go dancing. I bet you dance divinely. I'll pick you up in ten minutes, and we'll go to the Country Club."
Dick remembered that he had promised to play · checkers with Joe that night. He said, "I can't. I'm playing checkers with Joe tonight."
Impulsively she g r a b b e d his shoulders. Her face was an inch from his. He could feel her tremble. "I can play checkers too," she whispered. The wind caught and blew a stray tendril of her long raven black hair across his cheek. It tickled. Her lips were full, ripe, inviting. "Do you play on the red squares or the black?" he said.
She began to cry-huge wet tears which c o u r s e d down her cheek and splashed on his hands. H e 1 p 1 e s s n e s s filled Dick. He couldn ' t stand to see a woman cry. He shut his eyes.
When he opened them the moon was shining-a full moon, silvery and radiant. His back felt a little stiff and he felt like yawning. Te yawned. "A little snooze sure does a person a world of good," he said.
"Did you realize that the dwell of the overhead intake valves of my Y-block V-8 had been increased 12 degrees this year?" she said. "Really? I bet that accounts for the terrific acceleration in drive range of your hydramatic," he answered.
They stared at each other in
wonderment. A new awareness filled Dick. Here was a girl a man could talk to. She laid her hand gently on his nose. Sweetness seemed to flow from her fingertips and course through his veins.
"Another revolutionary feature is the automatic lubrication system which completely greases all fittings and bushings in the front suspension by pushing this button," she said.
In Dick's mind there rose a vision of happy evenings spent tuning up engines-she handing him wrenches, he doctoring motors. He reached for her pulling the softness of her toward him. Her eyes closed, the incredibly long dark lashes threw sweet shadows on her smooth cheeks. His lips moved irresistably, pulled by the magnetism of hers. He kissed her, and a thousand stars were shining, a million birds singing, a new springtime crept into his soul. For a long moment he held her, then he let her go. She had turned a little green and was gasping for breath. "Gasp, gasp," she said.
"I love you," he said passionately. "You and your Lincoln convertible. Will you marry me? My Esso gas station brings in $25 per month, so I can support you in the style to which you have been accustomed."
"My father owns Shell Oil Company," she said. "I love you too. Yes."
"That's all right," he said. "I'm very democratic." He kissed her again and this time his ears were filled by a sound like the three octave horn of a Lincoln convertible. He moved his elbow and the sound stopped.
Once more his lips sought hers. He crushed her to him. She was so sweet, so sweet-. Nothing happened. No sound filled his ears, no lights exploded inside his brain. "Oh, well, I suppose you get used to anything after a while," he said. "What did you say your name was?" she said.
TaTouVttvouNonyata or It'sGreektoMeToo
B y P r emin
This bloody physics is a ream one n ow, maybe I'm too tired and sleepy to get it. Only ten o'clock though. I'll get to bed early, get up early tomorrow and finish it then. Yeah, I'll get up early tom orrow and finish it then. I'll get up at six -thirty, no, make it six. Set the alarm and hop in bed. That's awful early, six-thirty is plenty early enough, all right then, six -fifteen.
Nah, nah, the lights don't bother me, when I get in bed, I get in to sleep. Yeah, I know, but I'm gonna' get up early in the morning. No, I'll be quiet, don't worry, I'll get you up for breakfast.
You turning in too? That's much better, we'll both get up early.
What in the world is that? Some jerk blowing his horn. I wonder what else he got for his birthday? I've got a notion to get up and give him a good piece of my mind. Why doesn' the go up and get the guy he wants instead of leaning on that bloody horn and hollering for him? Of course that would be the civilized thing to do, but he's only a college student. One of these days I'll get all of those characters who blow their horns after-say, ten-thirty, (that's a good round hour) and I'll cut the wires, that ought to fix them.
My sister puts the baby to sleep by turning him over on his belly, maybe if I-mmm. My God these 10
guys speed through here, and those mufflers they have-there oughta be a law-no, with no one that will enforce it - oh well Here comes another one, listen to him, forty miles an hour in second gear. I hope he hits a tree before he kills someone. What if one coming up the hill like that were to meet one going down the hill the same way? Wow! I'd like to be awake to see that. Listen to this one spin those wheels. Lay rubber on that road you dirty so and so. Boy sometimes I wish I wasn't a minnie, I'd tell those guys in their own language. If I could rig up a knifelike affair on that road, with a lever in here, and raise the knives every time I heard one coming. I'll bet they'd wise up after they cut their tires in half a couple of times. One of the minnies has a muffler like that on his car too, and he flies low around here sometimes. That's a fine example, real fine. I think I'll rig my car up with a valve that bypasses the muffler altogether, and come through here about two o'clock and open that valve. Boy, that wouldn't shake them too much. You'd think though that after a guy got a little older, he'd have more sense than to speed through here like that.
I'll try again above the roar M. M. Morpheus. Ye gads! He certainly has a healthy pair of lungs. So he wants a hamburger
and french fries. So why doesn't he phone the Beacon, instead of yelling loud enough for them to hear. Of course he saves dimes that way I hope I'm sound asleep before he gets back or it will b e the same thing all over again. Man, he'll need a pick up truck to bring all of that garbage back. I don't want to wish anyone har d luck but I hope he chokes on that , for the noise he's making. If I had my pistol here, I'll bet he 'd shut up quick. Just one shot, an d that would fix them all but good . I'll bet they'd be scared to death . I'd like to see their faces when on e of those slugs went buzzin g by lik e a hornet. Tomorrow , when I get up bright and early , I'll sing th e Alma Mater to the top of my voice, and they'll all stand up then!
You know something, a fello w could really clean up around he r e sellin g sandwiches and drinks at night. Yeah, but this monopol y law doesn't apply to some people in certain places. That's th breaks, like Dick down at Wa k Forest , he's making money fist over hand running a used bo ok exchange-z -z-z-z-z-z.
What time is it? One-thir t y Brother, that guy next door mu st stay up all ni ght studying. List en to him shuffling around in th er e. The least he could do is sit st ill. Who is he talking to? Surely n obody else is up this late, it m ust be to himself . Boy now I kn ow he's bats . Only a nut would st ay up and study this long anyh ow.
I feel hungry, I wish I had yelled for something back there a piece. What's that roomy? I can't understand-oh, he's talkin g in his sleep . They say that if you ta ke a person's hand while they are doing that, they will answe r all your questions. Man one of t hese nights ...
What in the-? Oh yeah , it's quarter past six, where is th athere it is----now it ' ll stop. I' ll lie back for a couple of minut es t o wake up, it'll make me feel bet ter UNIVERSITY MESSEN GER
Synopsis:
Gong Hee Fot Choy, Number One Chinese Detective, commonly called Fot by his numerous friends, is hot on the track of a ruthless and demoniacal criminal, Professor Throckmorton P. Chalmondeley -Witherbottom. This heinous and merciless villain has had the unmitigated gall to s p i r it away from the London Zoo the priceless panda, named Chrysanthemum, the treasured playmate and object of affection of every motherless urchin in greater Cheapside and most of Piccadilly. Flagrantly flaunting his unforgivable felony, the sinister Professor sent letters to Scotland Yard, the FBI, the USSR MVD, and Kensington S q u are Quoits and Hopscotch Association, mischievously daring them to bring him to justice. These time-honored and worthy organizations, baffled in their attempts to capture Chalmondeley-Witherbottom, have procured wisely the aid of Gong Hee Fot Choy, in hopes that this archenemy of all that robs streeturchins of their childish pleasures, this jewel in the left eye of the Buddha of Justice, can bring the evil Professor to his just deserts.
After a tortuous trail of searching, fraught with heartbroken, sobbing children and discouraged zoo officials, Fot is at last certain that he has found the dwelling of Chalmondeley - Witherbottom. Hiding in the dark third-floor-front flat of cheap rooming house near Whitehall. The Professor cackles in deented glee as he watches Fot ' autiously advancing d o w n the idewalk with surreptitious care, allowed subtly by a retinue of , eventeen under -detectives from ,3cotland Yard, three Bobbies, and c policewoman ingeniously disguished as an Alsacian milkmaid. We hear Chalmondeley-Witherttom as he croaks out to his rtner in crime, Velasquez Bonaa rte von Eichendorff, an Egypt n deaf-mute:
l\, ARCH, 1955
TheEnigma 0 the PurloinedPanda
By Lulu Spillane
"Ha, Ha!" cackled the Professor. "They think to take ME by surprise, do they? They'll never take me alive!" "Little do Gong Hee Fot Choy and his cohorts know that I have thwarted their little scheme. Little do they know that I have chopped the hapless Chrysanthemum, girl panda, whom they seek, into eensy weensy bits; and sent her snow-white soul to Panda Valhalla!" "I and my faithful servant V. B. von Eichendorff, have accomplished the feat and rid the world of a hulking beast; and all with my t r u s t y Lithuanian cheese knife and a f i n g e r n a i 1 clipper."
Velasquez Bonaparte von Eichendorff, being a deaf-mute, acknowledged anything the wicked Professor ever said with a knowing wink and a toss of the head which gave one to know that he had seen better days, but would now fain cast his lot with this arch-fiend. He positioned himself in a menacing stance opposite the door, in anticipation of the advent of Fot, who soon arrived outside the aforementioned portal.
"Allee samee must come out now," quoth the complacent obsequious oriental. "Confucius say, 'he who purloin panda have tough time escaping long bamboo sprout of Justice'." Thus saying, Fot apprehensively fingered his jewelled stiletto in its raffia elbow-holster, and gave a peremptory hitch to ready his collapsible sixteen-milli-
meter Howitzer, which, given him in gratitude by an Italian marchioness, was his most treasured and constant companion in such emergencies.
The evil arch-criminal Professor Throckmorton P. ChalmondeleyWitherbottom threw open the door contemptuously.
They faced each other.
Velasquez B. von Eichendorff, being part Turkish on his maternal grandfather's side, removed his fez.
Silence reigned.
Then ...
"Sic morit Chalmondeley-Witherbottom!" cried the professor, with an anguished sob, and plunging his trusty crusty Lithuanian cheese knife into his breast, he expired in evil triumph on the dingy floor; untried, unconvicted, unsentenced.
Velasquez B. von Eichendorff, being merely an Egyptian and part Turkish-type deaf-mute, and not understanding Latin when lipread, mistook Chalmondeley-Witherbottom's dying epithet for conveying the suggestion of running like all hell, so he attempted to do so.
His blood mingled with that of the evil Professor on the dingy floor. Fot, peering through the swirling smoke left by his collapsible sixteen -millimeter Howitzer, was heard to say ruefully: "Lesser English poet once say-'All's well that ends!' "
MacCarthyism
Maccarthy stomped 'cross the Senate floor
Accused a Pr iest and qu ite a fe w more
Waved his arms and attracte d some fans
But "Maccarthy" indeed is a n honorab le man.
-Henry Cabot Sludge
Buzz119for Murder
I was taking a nap in my room this afternoon (we had a house meeting last night and a fire drill the night before), wh en my buzzer rang-I mean sounded: "Bzzz -phtpht-pht-zzzzt-ahhh-ft -tz." After I had punched the thing back, I started for the second floor up the fire escape. You see, the extension on our floor has a permanent fiixture - my next-door-neighbor.
As I rounded the corner, my roommate yelled, "Bob said he'd call you today."
"Oh, brother," I thought. "That creep!"
The extension on the second floor was also busy, so I headed for the th ird floor at a dead run. At the top of the stairs I met a teacher who wanted to talk to me about my schedule for next year, and to tell me that "Westhampton ladies shouldn't run down the halls." The truth of her statement was proved when I ran headlong into a door someone was just opening.
I picked up the phone. "Hello," I gasped.
"Who's this?" asked switchboard.
"119."
"Oh, Go ahead."
From the other end of the line came my call . "Hello, this is Jane. Why don't you bring your French up here to do it?"-Agatha Crusty 12
Limelight-an emaciated cit ru s fruit
Pentangle-a crazy mixed- up quill
Earthshine-like moonshine only more so
WhyCan t WeGo MayBeRight, BackloShakespere?ButProbablyAren' or I'manOld Fogey!
a thing of beauty is a joy forever
Stone lily-a fossil crinoid
Sorehead-a disease
Democrat - a man embod ying the highest ideals, who striv es t o make our country safe for life, liberty , and you-know-what
Charwoman-the victim of a fire but i understand modern poetry never i wish theyd g o back to olden times or write some verse that sometimes rhymes but they wont and i dont
like it why cant they write intelligibly or else do it illegibly so we wouldnt have to read it as in stream of consciousness where they go on and on with no punctuation or capitalization and no meaning to it i wish theyd stop it it makes no sense if it did i wouldnt mind but this way im not sure if ive gotten the point or not to it either
and the way they put their lines is worse with one here and here and here of course
-Archibald Dogleish
Woof-the sound of a canine makes
Claptrap-a trap sprun g by clapping the hands
Uncouth-the opposite of couth
Earwig - a coverin g for th e org an of hearin g
Flavopurpurin - Wheatie s contain .00½ % of the daily quot a for the average adult
Pseudepi g rapha-somethi ng th at looks like a pig but isn't
Saddle roof-to keep th e to rse dry
Perimeter - used to measure peri
Republican-a political par~y -F unk
UNIVERSITY MESS E l' GER
VIEWS
T.S.Bellyache
"Indeed, what fools these mortals be,"
The Nothingness cried in unsurpassed glee,
" To think that they could ever be
A match of wit with such as me. "
And chucklin g he polished his proboscis of green
To an exquisite lustre of celestial sheen
" By the beak of my uncles and t he tendrils of Mother,
The feathers of Father and of many another,
I wager no mortal the secret of GRAN CHING
A lo gical phenomenon like that of tree-branchin g
Could render!"
" Nor could any mere novice in m ortal state
Comprehend even the small qu irks of Fate
In terms of any human concepion of form
Or order."
But here the Nothingness
Noticed the Roughness
Of his elbows
And his left nose,
So, pulling a lever behind his right ear ,
He activated a camshaft that whirled a small gear
Coated with abrasive of quality evasive ,
And smoothed 'em.
"Ah well," sighed he, with solemnity,
"But then," quoth he in benignity,
"One canot suppose that even those
Who understand half that the Shadow knows
Can ever be worthy of any but earthy
Why is a stone? The more you polish it gets.
Why is a mouse when it spins? The higher the fewer.
What is the difference between a duck? One of its legs is both the same .
And second - rate bourgeoisie knowledge,
So I guess that these mortals will ever be
Until the end of infinity
Convicted of the fact that wisdom and tact
Are found but in old Richmond College."
And here we leave the Nothingness quaint
In a state of resignedness to the taint
Of those who strive to be somethin' they ain't
And never are.
(Continued from page 5)
let her hair down, and have a ball!
The creatures in the swamp that night chuckled in unison as they heard her voice, rippling through the bayou air like the fog horn on an East River tugboat. She was singing :
"Shrimpboats is a'coming, her sail is in sight.
"Shrimpboats is a'coming, jambalaya tonight!"
PerfectSquelch
A Boston dowager vehemently wrote to the editors of Lobster's Dictionary, protesting in high dudgeon the appearance of certain "obscene words" in the latest edition of that momentous publication.
She received a reply in these terse words: "Lady, honi soit qui mal y pense."
(Continued from page 4) "Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine!"
So Andre cried, "The victory is mine. So long my honor, name, and praise shall live As Bacchus' wines strong pow'rs to Frenchmen give
For wine is lord of all this mighty race."
CANTO V
Then from the group stepped forth one braver man;
Silence ensued, and thus Fernand began: 1
"Say why is wine so honored in this land, The connoisseur's delight, the sot's demand? What reason for a culinary art, If only wine will satisfy man's heart?
Your golden pancakes blazed with mirabelle Would not be pancakes without milk, I'll tell. And cheese is said to sharpen most wine's taste; Cheese comes from cows you know, when milk is chased.
Cote-Rotie warms the cockles of your heart, But dare not say, these wines good health impart. Claret, champagne may set your minds at ease, But mind you this, 'tis milk wards off disease."
So spake Fernand, and Mendes-France was still; Then connoisseurs, foes, friends sprang up at will.
1 Fernand Savoye is the presid e nt of the Soci e t e d es Cuisiniers de Paris.
They held their goblets high, then hurled them hard,
And milk and wine found target, sans retard! No common weapons in their hands were found·'
Men lay, at battle's end, upon the ground Unseen, two connoisseurs sneaked off the stage , Approached huge vats of milk, with thoughts of rage,
Laid hold upon them, and the act was done! (Protecting spirits, dazed, were all undone.)
Sad chance! the gods then intervened too late To save the precious liquid from its fate.
The vats o'erturned, milk poured upon the ground ; N'er was such waste in all the world around. When connoisseurs of wine began their toil, They took from France and Liliane their spoil. "Restore the milk!" France cries, and all around , " Restore the milk!" the heav'ns and earth rebound.
But vats are empty, and the ground is dry; All hope seems gone, when suddenly a cry, "Look up, look up! behold the wondrous sight! " Breaks through the gloom of sadness and of nigh t. All eyes upturned , the radiance seemed as day; All looked, behind, and saw the Milky Way! Exulting voices cried, echoed their praise, And poets soon began to sing their lays. Gourmets and chefs forgot g astronomy, And turned their thoughts to fair astronomy.
"OldTimer'ShowsYoungPipeSmokerReason
A "custom" blend of five tobaccos selected for mildness and aroma. The only mixture in the Seal-Pak pouch.
ShowsMeaningof "Ready-Rubbed"
Old time smokers knew the secret of cool, even burning. They carefully "hand-rubbed" their tobacco into chunks of just the right size. Now
Edgeworth does all this before the tobacco is packaged. An exclusive process "ready-rubs" Edgeworth into chunks that pack right for a cool smoke without a touch of tongue bite.
JYour true tobacco expert will tell you that white burleys are the world's coolest smoking tobaccos. Edgeworth is a blend of white burleys only-aged for years. It leaves our plant with just the right moisture content for a cool, no-bite smoke and reaches you in the same condition because only Edgeworth has the Seal-Pak pouch. Air-and!:l water tight, it promises you fresher tobacco than any other type of pocket pack. No bulky corners in your pocket, either.
Enjoy both sides of smoking pleasure!
and /eel
if
you don't agree with thousands of smokers who compared king-size Cavaliers with th e cigarettes they'd been smoking. Yes ...
YouCAN'T help but noti ce -on campus and off -smart smokers are shifting to king-size Cavaliers. Try th em and find out what a pleasure smoki n g can be when the smoke feels so mild and tastes so good!
Cavaliers give you the world's aristocratic tobaccos blended in an extra leng th. There is no better natural filler! There is no finer source of delightful flavor! Today's th e day. Get Cavaliers get extra mildness where it co unt s - in the feel of the smoke !
GraduatetoCavaliers! Light up
I that Cavalier mildness- so light, smooth and easy! Try a pack of Cavaliers today. See
