Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1942-08-14
~
from the
Democrats Pen

uncertainty which certain folks seem
to think envelopes, now and then, the
subject matter that Chirps deals with.
In other words, they intimate oc-
casionally deal in fiction. They are
impressed with the idea that things
are not always as they are told, which
is only another way of saying, l don't
always stick to the truth.
| lust want to remind them of the
old adage: Truth is stranger than
fiction;" and just because what l pre-
pare for this column sounds some
what improbable, it is not, on that ac-
count, impossible. Now, take, for
instance, that story told last week
about the two snakes swallowing one
another till both disappeared. l was
told by one of my good friends and
subscribers that he read that little
anecdote to his young son. After
the boy had listened very attentively,
he came out with this:
Daddy, that's not sol"
"Why, SOM"
Because, you know those snakes
couldn't eat each other up"
I reckon I'd have some trouble con-
vincing that young man there really
I'M
argue that question with him or try
to show that the snake story is eth
er fact or fiction; but I'm here to tell
him he can write it down in his book
the part 1 said about myself is alb
solutely true-in part. l didn't quite
disappear, in toto, but I'll wager a
bout ten pounds of my corporosity
did disappear in what might be de-
nominated as "ooze." Believe it or.
not, went through a regular Thomp-
sonian sweat-no perspiration-and
I'm quite confident Pm not up to my
usual weight.
How-some-ever, | reckon can
other disappearing acts. The insur-
ance tables try to scare me to death
by telling me Pm about twelve or fiji
teen pounds too heavy, anyhow; and,
before l know it something or other
is going to happen if l don't get rid
of some of my ponderosity. Hereto
fore, the more l tried to get rid of
it, the heavier I got, so l gave it up
as bad job. If old Sol can turn the
trick-all we'll and good.
But, as l said above, there are 9th
er disappearing scenarios | can't cot
ton to-, very we'll. For instance, this
morning, l found a note on my desk
little chilly doc" notifying me that
my linotype operator had disappear
ed; and, so far as 1 know, had dis
solved into thin air. He didn't say:
"By your permission" nor Fare thee
Welt" He didn't stop to say wheth-
er he liked me or liked me not and
he didn't care a tinker's dam wheth-
er my linotype worked or remained
idle.
Which all goes to show that war is
what Sherman said it was; only l
could embellish it a little more by
giving it a name of a certain maiden
who answered when she was called,
Helen Damnation." Here l was
"settin' purity" with a man who had
only one good leg, who couldn't have
marched a half mile; and who was
no more good to Uncle Sans army
or navy than l was. But he's gone,
disappeared land somehow feel like
wishing some snake had come along
and "et" him up.
Seriously, tho, these are indeed
troublous times. There's no bust
ness, big or little, but what appears
to be living from hand to mouth, as
it were. The draft is combing the
land and rushing the young and old,
apparently, into defense ranks. Jobs
that the unfit" can fill, are de-
handing unusual remuneration, and
the small business man has a dreary
outlook.
I wish the Germans and Japs
would get mad at each other and do
the swallowing act. I wish this war
could find its end, and that quickly;
so that the man who has to work for
his living could know where he's at.
I don't. I don't know just how long
we'll last to tell those stories which
have a suspicious aspect, and lead to
the boyish judgment of-"Daddy,
that's not sol"