OCR Text |
Show I JUST FORFUN HJ ( Saw No Difference. H ij j "People who seek books from Hl j I ' the fiction section mako some- fun- H I ny breaks," says a librarian of tho H ' Library of. Congress. "I havo H ' i mado note of a number of these, H 1 , hut none of them amusod me more Hi j than the request of a sourlooking H spinster. H i1 ' "She sternly demanded of me H a copy of 'Tho Recollections of a B ' liar. I told her that I didn't know H i i It, but that I could give her tho H Recollections of a Married Man." H '( " 'That will do,' said she, acidly, H i i Tt's practically tho same thing.' " H ' Llppincott'e. H ' Pointed Criticism. H i i ' Theodore Dreiser, the novelist, H ' waa talking about orlticisin. H "I like pointod criticism," ho B said, "oriticism such as I heard in H the lohby of a theater tho other H ' i night at tho end of the play. H i J "The critic was an old gentlc- H ' man. His crltlolsm, which -was for H ' I bis wife's cars alone, consisted, of . H theso words: l' '"Well, you -would come!"' St H si Louis Globo-DomocraL H 1, Sho Understood, H' I CuEtomer Why doesn't that H I spinster, 311&s Brown, deal at your K I stqre now? HJ Draper One of my clerks !n- Hj! suited: her. dustomcr How? H Draper She overheard him tell- H in? some ono that she was our old- H' j est customer. Tit-Bits. K , Both Upholstered. Laying aside the daily paper, Mrs." Brown observed; "A padded overcoat saved a man's life In an automobile accident." "Yoa," replied Mr. Brown, "and the article mentions that his wlfo, who was struck on the hips, also escaped serious injury." Judge. The Strange Part. Mrs. Dressen, with tho evening paper. Hero's strange nows. A New York child hW for thirty hours in her mothor'B clothos closet. Mrs. Dresser I should say it is strange! Imagine a New York woman wo-man .not changing her olothes in that time! Judge. Pot-Bollum. First Italian What was he decorated dec-orated for? Second Ditto Bravery In the aerial service in Tripoli. His ma-ohino ma-ohino fell from a height of 200 feet and crushed twenty Turks single-handed. single-handed. Fuck, As Some of Us Know. "What have you gob in that lockot, Lizetto?" "A lock of my husband's hair." "But he's still alive." "Yes, but he hasn't any hair now." Fllegende Blaetor. Perhaps. Monsieur Faux Pas Ah, so this is you loetle son. He is what you say? a chip of the old blockhead? block-head? M. A. P. |