The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1936-03-05

stealing?
We're a great people for laws-not
for enforcing laws; dearie me. no, we're
much too tender-hearted for that rough
stuff-but just for having nice orna-
mental laws on the statute books.
Let's see how many more we enact
before the spring thaw comes.
Old "'Uncle Wilbur"
60 THE ex-kaiser is getting on to-
- ward eighty. 1t seems only yes
terday when l was one of three Amer
lean correspondents with the invading
German forces in 1914. Among our
selves we wanted to be able to refer
freely to our imperial host without CIV
ing offense to anybody in his army. So
we twisted Emperor Wilhelm HOhen-
zollern into "Uncle Wilbur Hennebury
of Chambersburg, Pa" and went about
speaking of him as one to whom we
were indebted for diverse favors but
whose policies and methods frequently
were open to criticism.
To the world today he's the wood
chopper of Doom; to the suppressed
royalists Of the vaterland he's still, I
suppose, the all-highest. But so long
as 1 can remember those mad days in
Belgium and France, he'll be Uncle
Wilbur" good fellow while he had it
Maybe if he hadn't figured his divine
right was better than the devastating
left hook Of world opinion he might
still be the all-ages heavyweight cham
pion of European royalty. And there
might be more European royalty than
there is.
Reviving the Old
7 WALKED into a beer parlOr today,
but, If that was the parlor, I'd hate
to visit the pantry-and there in front
of the mirror was an old friend-a
friend I hadn't seen for full thirty
years. 1t was a framed sign reading
as follows: Don't ask us to charge.
The Light Brigade charged and look
at what happened to them"
Now then, if could only run across
the one which says: "All Nations well
l
lunch counter featuring whole picked
pigs-feet.
Wrestling As an Art
livery time go to so-called wres-
II thing contest, l say to myself that.
If only we revived the ancient Roman
sport of matching gladiators to murder
one another publicly, no building any
where could hold the multitudes that
would flock to the blood-lettings.
1t can't be the posing, posturing,
cheap acting, deliberate fouling, obvi-
Gus hippodroming, the fixed victories
and the faxed defeats that bring the
crowds swarming about the mastodonic
masters of the manly art of self-pre-
tense, these blubber-laden practition-
ers of the pleasant science of mayhem
All the cruel agony can't be make
believe, all the seeming suffering isn't
rehearsed beforehand. That's what
makes the business pay The creak of
the dislocated ankle and the brisk
snap of the splintering knee-joint, the
scream as brutal thumb gouges at a
tortured eyeball-its so much music to
the popular ear.
That reminds me / must see about
getting my tickets for this weeks
bouts. l hear the house is sold out.
That's no way to treat regular Gus
toner.
Sitting the Urge
IT'S almost time for the master tai
lors to announce that this year men
will wear bright colors. They do that
regularly and nothing ever comes OF
1t except vain longings for us. poor
cowardly worms that we are. Being a
encasing ourselves in garments suit
able for pallbearers at Dunkard
funeral.
I'm typical of the whole thwarted
male species. My impulse is to go pick
out something suitable for fancy vest
and then have a whole suit made of
it. Right now I've got my eye on a
nobby checked pattern in black and
white squares that would make me look
a good deal like a marble-tiled entry
hall. But will indulge my stified nat
ural cravings? Don't make me laugh
| It's not one another's scorn we fear.
It's our womenfolk. Well. If you were
d hen and the poor foolish rooster had
surrendered to you all his gay feathers,
alwong with most of his other perqui-
sites, would you give 'em back TO him?
IRWIN S. COBB
Copyright.-WNU Service.