Woodrow knew how to conjure up such words. He know how to make them glow, and weep. He wasted no time upon the heads of his dupes, but aimed directly at their ears, diaphragms and hearts. . . . At times Mencken used words like a club, as in this direct attack on school teachers. And the truth is that it is precisely his inherent idiocy, and not his technical equipment as a pedagogue, that is responsible for whatever modest success he now shows.
Outrage coupled with amusement inevitably produces a degree of ambiguity.
Women hidden away in the damp kitchens of unpainted houses along the railroad tracks, frying tough beefsteaks. . . . Lime and cement dealers being initiated into the Knights of Pythias, the Red Men or the Woodmen of the World. . . . Watchmen at lonely railroad crossings in Iowa, hoping that they'll be able to get off to hear the United Brethren evangelist preach. . . . Ticket-sellers in the subway, breathing sweat in its gaseous form. Farmers plowing sterile fields behind sad meditative horses, both suffering from the bites of insects. . . .