The mirror., 1923-05-03


Stories Magazine or Modern Lucila for
one year she is satisfied.
The American public is very gullible
in some respects and, paradoxically, re-
markably sophisticated in others. Mr..
and Mrs. Average Citizen eye the latest
Siamese twins skeptically but subscribe
literally to Prohibition or Anti-Pro-
hibition Funds. Where does all this
money go? An individual of suspicious
nature might connect the sleek, well-fed
promoter with the constant demand for
more support for the cause he espouses.
Who cares whether our lineal ancestors
were apes or garter snakes as long as
we derive full and lasting pleasure from
our allotted span of years? Why should
we lose sleep by conjecturing as to
whether the first woman came from a
right or left rib or the funny bone? Is it
rot enough this keeping up with the
Joneses, keeping on good terms with
practising member of the bootlegging
fraternity, and wondering if we will be
pit bulldog or a trained flea in the next
reincarnation. That is more bunk than
hokum. At present am more concerned
with the chances of Connie Mack's low
ly Athletics in the present season of our
national pastime, perfecting plan for
noseless soup, and planning broadcast
ing station for males who are eligible for
the Presbyterian Ladies Quilting Society.
We hear much of the so-called Wrest-
ling Trust, that the "Big FOUR" Caddock,
Stecher, Lewis and Zybysko are not will
ing to grant earnest young students of
the Farmer Burns School of Wrestling a
chance to attain recognition. That is
pure hokum. Why should Earl Caddock
tackle an unknown, who. may not be fa-
milar with the recognized code of mat
ethics when he knows how long it will
take him to win or lose, from or to
Strangler Lewis or Peerless Joe ,Stecher,
the pride of Dodge, Nebraska. l ask you?
We have with us the King Tut period
of interior designs, feminine apparel, etc.
Gilda Gray shakes wicked pair of
shoulders, but we can remember hang
over from ancient Egyptian customs ever
since we were big enough to wear long
trousers and convince the ticket seller we
knew what was what even if our cheeks
had never experienced the caressing touch
of a dollar safety razor. Bee Palmer
may have the naughtiest wiggle in the
world but our coin is on one Texaco, who
retired after a few years among the
yokels.
Lovers of romance may get vicarious
kick out of the balcony scene of Romeo
and Juliet but we prefer to take ride in
the old mill and see the real thing-life
in the raw as it were. Noveists, who
are also literary critics, hurl encomiums
upon the heads of other novelists in
glimmering sycophantic stylus, and in
return they expect the recipient of this
little favor to explore the dictionary for
adjectives with which to hail the ap-
pearance of their next work. Sort of
you tickle me, I'll tickle you proposition.
And woe be unto the unknown who at
tempts to pass this critical bar of judg-
ment.
The cynic alone views life as it is, and
we admit that we cannot be classed a
cync as we find this life not so bad even
with all of its trials, tribulations and ad-
versities. One man has said that one out
of every ten is a wise guy, the rest suck
ers. The minority are in the real estate
business in Los Angeles. And that is
neither hokum nor bunk.
To change another famous saying:
"Cows may come and cows may go, but
hokum goes on forever There is more
hokum in the city of New York than in
the states west of the Father of Waters,
excepting California. That New York
a. a. thar