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Show $NiiiiiiiMimiiii;iiiaimiiii;mumim .j.; The Moving Finger j Hie moving finger writes, and having writ y loves on: nor all your piety nor wit 1 Shall lure it back to cancel half a line. or all your tears wash oat a word of if." Omar Khayyam AC-DC. Wire you insulate? . "Had to stop for supplies," says Len, "And didn't have enough money." "Ain't the city's credit good?" asks Hastings. "Guess not," Len replied; "They wouldn't charge any batteries." "Aw go lay a conduit!" yells Hastings. And then everybody went back to work. And so will I. G'bye. The Moving Finger This column first of a series of 'em, I HOPE was started way last year. It was spring, and the murmur of the termites in the south veranda mingled with the rustle of loose shingles in the roof . . . The lawn was ablaze with dandelions, and the village was covered with shiny new homes, covered with loans, covered with mortgages . . .Dear little lambs, VERY dear, 79c a pound, gamboled gambol-ed on the green ... I gambled on the bangtails, and there went my allowance; but that's another story. Even the family cat succumbed suc-cumbed to the creative urge, to the tune of six wee catlets, born early one May morning in the bedroom bed-room closet, on the skirt to my ballerina suit. That did it: I wrote a column. Damn that cat . . . Anyway, it was a grand Spring; soft winds sighing in the trees, wolves whistling on the corners, Henry Kaiser blowing in his furnaces. fur-naces. Too had about that; Henry tried hard. When we were very small, we heard about another Kaiser, Kai-ser, name of Bill.; wanted to rule the world, he said. Wound up on the business end of a cross-cut saw . .- the woodcutter of Doom. But THIS Kaiser's different; he just wants to take the world for a ride, in a nice new Kaiser sedan. And he named his new blast furnace, out here at Ironton, "Mary", for his Mom. Mighty nice ... Hope my son never grows up to he a .big butter-and-egg man, or a successful hog raiser. Somehow Some-how I can't see a record Holstien or a prize Plymouth Rock named for me; even a hog might be more fittin', but I just can't see it. Course, if he should turn out to be a builder, like his pappy, he could christen a Cement mixer for me; be mighty appropriate. Though there'd toe a lot of argument argu-ment about which made the most noise . . . Well the "MARY"'s quiet, now, like a lot of other things in industry; indus-try; too many union leaders leading lead-ing too many union members around by their noses. Must ' be their noses; the situation smells to high heaven to the rest of us. Maybe someday' the wind will toe right and they'll get a whiff; THAT'LL do it! Unions were swell in the good old days when the union leaders worked for the laborers; but nowdays the laborers labor-ers work for the union leaders, and that ain't good. Walter Reu-ther Reu-ther thinks Henry Ford has too much money, and he wants a cut of it; in wage boosts and $100-a-month pensions, he says. But it's going to take a lot of wage tooosts and pensions, to make up the workers losses of they go out on strike and Mr. Reuther's salary will go on just the same. . . Anyway, SOME things are looking look-ing up, around here, and I don't mean just that nice man with the telescope over to the B. Y. U., either. Though he was awful nice; even let little boys look at the stars and things. One urchin remarked that the moon looked just like Yellowstone Park; and his smaller companion took one look and began be-gan to haul like everything. Said he couldn't see any bears . . . What IS looking up is our own shiny new Bartholomew power project. It's nice and cool up there, and things are really humming. The other day Len Wiscomtoe, boss on the job, got up there late, and the boys were working hard. "Watts up? says Len, "You trying to get out the volt? "Naw," snarled Hastings Smith, an old army man, "We're playing |