Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1936-11-06
~
from the
Democrats Pen
from the


right. I generally try to relieve my
mind of the flub-dub that goes into
this column on that day of the week.
And, by the way, what filters through
into this space, proves to the minds
of many of my readers that l haven't
any mind worth speaking about. How
ever, what intrigues me sometimes is
that, in order to pass judgment on it,
the column must be read and hear
so many adverse criticisms about it, I
am brought to the conclusion it must
take some of the peoples extra time
anyhow. But there are lots of folk
always looking for something to
knock; so use your hammer, boys, all
you want. You are more nearly right
than wrong in this case.
Well, who are you going to vote
for?-or should I say whom; these
pesky pronouns; and, also and more
over, SEEM as how the election will be
ancient history by the time this gets
into the hands of the anvil choirs ]
should say, "Whom did you vote for?"
If 1 could look you in the eye right
straight, 1 believe I could tell.
once heard a candidate say he
could sit, or stand, around the polls,
look at the voters as they came up,
and come very near telling whether
they dropped ballot in for him. If
they came up and flashed him a bright
little smile, it was message of COM
fort; he knew he had that vote. If
they sauntered up looking over his
head, as if they were deciding whether
it was going to rain or not, he knew
his opponent was going to score one
hit, anyhow.
So, if the next day it rained, so far
as your cloudy countenance is concern
ed, I would know you were thinking
damn; but if your face was ALT
as if your mother-in-law had just
been buried, why, would know you
had said to your best friend, 81 told
you sol" and the telling gave you
more kick than drink of "white
mule" could administer, in the sad,
sad days of arid prohibition.
There's been a lotta speakin', hain't
they? I'll bet this campaign has been
KILN time for the radio manufac-
turers. It don't stand to reason
those talking machines could weather
all the oratory that has come through
their faces. By the time it's all over,
Les Bunting will have more repair
work to do than he can finish in a
month of Sundays. don't mean he
works on Sundays; he couldn't spare
the time from his church-going to do
that; I mean it would take him long
time. And then if they are all bust
ed up beyond repair, then Mr.. Philco
and others have them all ready to sell.
But, you know, when you come to
think that by the time AL Smith and
Father Coughlin-bless the lamb. he
amt any daddy of mine-and Roose-
welt and Landon, and the rest of them
would have sore threats, pneumonia,
heart disease, and all other ailments.
Some might be cured, others. l know
died a natural death and new blood
or wood and wires-took their places.
Well, I reckon 1 know about as
much as the rest of you, right now
the man who gets the most votes will
do the shouting. If he knows when
he's well off, he'll do his shouting,
early too. because I think would pre-
fer to take what's coming to me as
writer of "Chirps", than to have
hundred million or more people hittin'
me from all points of the compass.
The White House doesn't always con-
tain within it's four walls the Irenic
angel. The touches in that domicile
do not always WOO successfully the
Morphic spirit. The political food
served there doesn't always lend it
self to administrative good digestion.