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Show never know, unless it was because the editor just called up and said if I wasn't down there with this in about five minutes, they'd chop off my head . . . You can soe what happens during a reign of terror. Oh, Goody, here comes Mrs. Carter, who is the good-natured, efficient, and extremely witty lady who helps me keep Little Alcatraz from looking like the city dump. I'll ask her does she know any new jokes that are printable as if she ever knew any that weren't! and maybe may-be I can use 'em next week! G'Bye, now. L. C. ITloving Finger "The "loi 'ijl finicr writes, and having writ Mores on: nor all your piety nor wil ;,,, luiv it hack to cancel half a line, j'or ' your (ears wash out a irorj of it." Omar Khayyam It seems to be one o'clock in the ninfr-Tuesrfay morning and I gm and there you are, and f tiie column? as George ld sav I don'1 know wlwt rd ririthout George at a time like "especially now that the chil-are chil-are grown, and don't say cute 14 anv more. (Not for publico publi-co Way!) Of course, I iVu.se "IV granddaughter, S. r copy', and don't think iI won't but she's a bit smali yet, and too defenseless for me to exploit. ex-ploit. When she get a bit older, say four or five, and Michael is right behind her . . . Ha! That'll be the day . . . I'll have to get a copyright. Those two are characters, the darlings. dar-lings. So you didn't get into this just to listen to Grandma drool, huh? Wanna make something out it? Good . . . Whatcha making? I wonder if I could use for a column . For the love of Pete, Child, get on the ball; it's Tuesday, aw-rixldy, aw-rixldy, and this paper goes to press on Wednesday. Besides the Big 1-ioss is home from the wars, or anyway home from the legislature, and he's probably got a lot of high-falutin' high-falutin' ideas about columns, what with being in the big city where Dan Valentine and The 'Senator From Sandpit hang out. Well, let's face it I just ain't in it with the Senator; he's one from the old school, and a good one. But Valentine, Valen-tine, now ... if he can write about his wife, and Marilyn Monroe, why can't I write about my husband, nad Tony Curtis? Nope, I won't do it; it would be a dirty, lowdown trick, to write about my husband when he's out of town . . . Although as long as he's in Las Vegas, I should be so ethical? Who KNOWS what HE does, on these business trips to Lost Wages? Monkey business, I bet Last time I was in Las Vegas, I lost eight dollars; and no use advertising for it, cither. I think I know who found it, and those brass-bound bandits can't read. Besides, Be-sides, I was fool enough to go up to a bar .and order a Coke. Cost me sixty-five cents! I coulda had a Martini for another dime ... I love those green olives they put in the bottom of the glass. Some day when I get enough money, I'll buy a bottle of 'em, and then I won't have to go to Las Vegas. It wouldn't cost much more, and I'd get more olives, that way. But of course, I wouldn't get to see how the other half lives. I remember we stayed at the Tryanget Inn or was it the Outstretched Out-stretched Palms ? anyway, it was plenty plush. The slot machines there only took ten-dollar bills. They paid off in uranium stock. I tried to put a dollar in one, and the house detective walked up and said, "Lady, the gum machine is in the outer lobby." Didn't bother me any, though; I just up and told him, I wasn't even . looking for gum I just wondered how much I weighed. So then he said, "You'll haye to put another dollar in, Ma'am that's only for. children under twelve." Ah, Las Vegas . . . I'm going out there again, next week, so hold onto your hats. Got nineteen nickles saved up from selling empty emp-ty bottles, and I'm gonna shoot the works. Yippeee! So here I am, half way down the page, and I haven't said much about my husband, nor Tony Curtis, Cur-tis, either. I'll never be another Valentine, I guess; but that's okay he'll never be a child again, either. eith-er. What a horrible pun it's one of my husband's. I KNEW I'd get him back into this, somehow. Why I mentioned Tony Curtis, I'll never know, except that he's a movie star, and a real pretty one, too. My Mom knew him, years ago, in Holleywood, when he lived next door to Mrs. Thompson, and his name was Bennie- Schwartz. Real nice boy, he was, they both say, and he's gone right to the top in his career; and getting better-looking better-looking all the time. Just goes to show you, that what's-in-a-name stuff is true; a rose' by any other name WOULD smell as sweet, but 'it wouldn't look good in the poetry columns to call a rose a skunk-cabbage, skunk-cabbage, would it? How in the Sam Hill I got off on that, I'll |