POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 81, 2 October 1931, Page 6

POSTSCRIPTS

Chrot icle and Comment

BY PERCY FLAGE

"Yes," said the super-optimist, as we paddled through the slush to the office this morning. "Wellington has its compensations. l rcisterday, now, the air was a barrage of dust and grit. To-day there is no dust and no grit; This town will do me." , ■ * * * Apropos those aboriginal wood-cut-ters who died mysteriously after feasting on a crocodile which had been dead and buried for two days—-that could never happen to us. Wo do not like our meat "high." " #' * # HOW'S THAT! "Life's like a game of cricket, •* observes an overseas funinakcr. *'It'» frequently the slips that catch yo» out." " And your creditors who catch yo» in -when, you're "stumped." •, ~ • • LET'S BE FAIR. It appears to us that far too much fuss is. being made over that dole.racketeer in New South Wales who collected tickets under seven names, and wa» detected selling goods bought witlj dole coupons. It may fairly be assumed that the misdemeanant had no other means of raising the wind wherewith to purchase a ticket or two in Mr. Lang's seductive art union. * *• ». .: WE WONDER. When our gold has turned to silver Wo will love it just the same. When the Stock Exchange is broken They will find some other game. , When the swords are in their scabbards, And the cannons cease to roar, When the sovereign's lost its value, And is twenty "bob" no more, When the "cockie" takes his produce In v a basket to the store Then it's good-bye to the middlemam— He will, profiteer no more. CAMOUFLAGE. (With apologies to Percy.). '"■ .■ ■ . * "♦ • HOROSCOPE. You may have wondered at the ternpcramentalisin of peoplc-in-the-newa like Hitler, Gandhi, and Sir Oswald Mosley. Here's the explanation . ... hot from the crystal of the weekly as-trologer-injordinary to the "Sunday Express" '(London). That man of magic passes on the curious fact that the trio are "astrological blood-brothers. All three come under the rays .of .Neptune. The activities of Neptune and his sons defy analysis or prognosis. No sane or stable thing will come from any of the three or from any of their works." Science is'wonderful, isn't it! «■ ♦ «■.*.■' CALVIN KNOWS HIS ONIONS. Calvin Coblidgo has emphatically denied that-he will be a runner for tha Presidency. The ex-President knows when he v is better off> Churning out reconstructed platitudes of a . high moral flavour at so much a word is a far simpler matter, and much more remunerative than being 'elected President (if he were" lucky) and being called on immediately to pick-oat-the right one of 476,879} suggestions for solving the national problem.; .Mi. Coolidge has of late earned the reputa« tion of being America's sphinx. But recently be became really garrulous* In a running interview with a Ifew' York reporter, the ■ near-distinguished gentleman made the following,remarks»' "Nothing whatever to say."V; " Nothing to say." ' ■ ■-' ■; L -. "Not a word." ■ -,--■: "Nothing." -.; > r/----i Some cynical scamp, commenting" ok this informative statement, suggested that had Coolidge been sending dt\ by; wire he would probably have cut" out the final word, "Nothing," to'get' *he idea into the ten-word limit ■ .;•;: ■■♦ *•'. * •• :; " ■'■•■■ .MAME IN PROTEST. It was really and truly unavoidable that the M'Clancy lady, was squeeied out of yesterday's column, because our "glorious First" insisted on falling/oa a Thursday this anno domini. Mama was hurt, of course, and haß said so in aloofly dignified terms. Our .conscience (such as it is) would not per* mit us to "kill" her protest, so here' we go— ' . a Dear Mr. Flage, I wanter know 'Ow you could treat an ole friend &o\ •ft; 'urt me to the quick-'n'-dead When larst night I your pasteseripte read* An' found, dear sir, to my surprise, (I scarcely could believe my eyes), That not a line of me was there, The which I feel is d .... d unfair, Seem' as W on Thursday nights The whole of Wellington delights . To listen in at what I say ' ' At mornin' tea acrost the way. I'm honly a weak woman, still, I 'aye me rights indelible^ Than which you should of known the , same. ' ■ ■ I think it's jest a rotten shame ; That I should be shoved on one side In such a way ...... it 'urts me pride. Who, please, are this trout-murderi»^ crew? They seem to 'aye the wood on you. Perhaps you think you'll get a "bite 1* When they bring 'ome a catch one nighty An' put you on a nice fat trout ... Is that, dear sir, what you're about? If that's your game, then more-'n'-mor% You're not the bloke I took you for. An' any'ow, it's you that lost— The column larst night was a froeti Why, heveryb'ody in the Lane Declared it gave 'em all a pain, An' you can count the Lane to be Always himpartial-like to me. I may forgive you, sir, but yet I can't be sure that they'll forget. You'll not reprint tbis "blast," I gues*. MRS. M'CLANCY (old address). * ■».' * • , STARR JORDAN BEER CREDO. The Kipling story, and the just" cabled death of Dr. Starr Jordon, of Stanford University, California, bring to the mind of "Havaspot" the occasion on which he heard the late learns ed professor in the pulpit of the Unitarian Church, during the pastorate of Dr. Tudor Jones, somewhere about 20 years ago. Both the Alliance and th« Licensed Victuallers were very tetiva at the time, so perhaps not unnaturally, Dr. Jordan referred to the subject* "with," as ho said, no misgivings, "my friend Sir Robert Stout's presi* deney of the church notwithstanding. I stand, as I think we all do in this body, for freedom of action, thought, and worship for everybody. I.personally think that the moderate use of alcohol is not a crime. Under proper conditions and circumstances of good fellowship, and joy 0.X.; but as a dope, or a habit to «buck one up,' it is, it not a crime, a grave error. "On one occasion having speech witli my old friend and hero, John L. _Sulli» van, who, though champion pugilist of the world, was one of the gentlest, as he was one of the bravest ■men I ever was proud to know, ho said—and I think he summed the matter up: 'Ycst Doctor, it is hell when a man don't feel good till ho has a coupla jolts o' liquor under his belt!' Well, friend«, Uiem* my sentiment*/'