The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1935-05-23

y
to commence l get to thinking about
the people out in Kansas and Oklaho-
ma and other western States with
their dust storms, drought, and ev-
erything.
And thinking of all that, Garrett
county doesn't seem so bad. Pretty
punk weather now and then, but take it
on the whole and you can bet there
are plenty of places lot worse.
H~R
The fact that it is comparatively
cool here in the summer when COM
pared with other spots, makes one
wonder why this could not be made a
convention town with no more argu-
men than just that-clean, cool and
cozy. Three very original words, but
they convey the meaning.
The State Firemens Association will
meet here in June. The only argument
necessary to sell Oakland to the asso-
citation was the fact that there would
be no such hot weather as there was at
the last convention held on the East
ern Shore.
All that Oakland would need would
be an ordinary salesman to go around
to all conventions. Then when the Their
mometer was at its hottest, pop the
question of coming to Oakland next
year where anyone can hold a conven-
ton in comfort.
We've got all it takes-Deep Creek
Lake for bathing and boating, scenery,
all modern conveniences and every
thing-eXcept a golf course, and if
some of the philanthropists of the town
would open their pockets wide enough
to get two fingers in, we'd have the
golf course.
Or if nothing else works, send out
a bunch of chain letters. AS the top
name leaves the paper, make the lower
one send him enough money for
weekend trip to Garrett county; then
in turn, as his name leaves the top,
he would get enough money to send
him to the county for 1925 week
ends, which is lot of week-ends to
spend any place, even in the Garden of
Eden, if you ask me.
All you need is the money and the
faith your friends had in sending you
the letter. And whatever you do, don't
break the chain-or the COLLINS will
get you if you don't watch out.
When it rains on Monday and the
Boss Editor is hollering for column
the only thing a writer should do is
to throw what he has written in the
wastebasket, blindfold himself, and
turn around five times, then reach in
the basket if it can be found and haul
out the first piece of paper his hand
comes in contact with.
1t may be last months bills, or some
of the thousand and one pieces Of
worthless publicity that arrive almost
every morning, but whatever it is it's
likely to be better than what he threw
in there, disguised as a column.
But if you don't do this there is still
another way. You can borrow joke
some other columnist told the week
before, and here's the joke:
A little boy had pup of which he
was very fond. He placed it at the
table when he ate, slept with it and
buddied around with it as little boys
will do with their pets. He would have
taken it to school with him, but his
parents said no to that idea The pups
name was Danny.
One day Sammy came home from
school and met a sad-faced mother at
the door. She seemed hesitant to tell
him what was on her mind. After q
minutes INDIGESTION she blurted the
words, Sammy dear, Danny is dead"
Sammy nonchalantly disengaged
himself from his mothers arms and
sauntered through the kitchen door in
the direction of the cooky jar. His
mother was astounded. Where she had
expected tears and anguish she had
witnessed cold Indifference. She
watched her unusual offspring go into
the back yard and start playing with a
wagon.
Her puzzlement continued until
after the evening meal. She queried:
Sammy, didn't you understand me
this afternoon? l told you Danny was
dead!" Her son, startled, looked up
with eyes that were already filling
with honest tears. He gulped Gee,
Nom; I though you said daddy"
49,
Which reminds me of the minister
who was preaching a sermon on the
attitude a wife should have for her
husband.
"Who is there in the audience who
will promise to leave here this evening