Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1942-02-20
"Chirps'' ~
from the
Democrats Pen
from the

nose, who sent me q dozen or more
pesky valentines last week. I'd tweak
their smellers so hard, I'd put them
out of business for awhile, anyway.
After l got through with them, they
wouldn't be able to distinguish the
Altar of Roses from the aroma that
comes drifting across the ozone from
a fish factory. To say the least, the
taste displayed in the selection Of
these missives, was horrible. If it is
any indication of the mental and NOR
al makeup of the senders, then it's
time for them to take time off for
a little introspection.
what was the matter with 'em?"
you ask Well, you may remember that
/ had a fall short time ago, which
almost shook the liver-lights out Of
me. In telling about it in this col
umn, l referred to Humpty Dumpty,
but l was particular in stating that
I wasn't Humpty Dumpty. Some of
my good friends begged leave to differ
from me, and l wish you could have
seen a valentine portraying me as
that tabled character sitting on a
wall-and, 1 took particular pains to
explain that l wasn't sitting on a wall,
too. But my explanations fell on deaf
ears.
There 1 was, and, in addition, my
corporal dimensions and style were
drawn to resemble an egg. [ suppose
when Mr.. Egg Dumpty fell off, all
the kings horses and all the kings
men could not have put it together
again. It would have been bad old
egg, wouldn't it? The presumption,
of course, is that l am bad old egg.
Maybe so, but I'm still occupying an
unbroken shell, thank the Lord!
Another one of these February 14th
tiends sent me remembrance showing
an old codger with beard almost to
his feet; his eyes shaded by silver
trimmed specks; his chair pulled up
before a blazing log in the fireplace;
his feet in carpet slippers; an old
fashioned shawl around his shoulders;
a skull cap protecting his bald head;
his companions, dog and cat
snoozing before the warmth of the
blaze; and, withal, the scene looked
as if it was leaf out of the personal
history of Methusalah or sketch of
Rip Van Wrinkle after his hundred
years sleep-more or less.
And, down below was this little
whiz:
Now, look upon this; before this
heat,
You're safer much, then on the
street.
Intimating that it's time 1 knew
where 1 belong, and I'd better consid-
er ways and means of preserving my
self alive. Maybe they're right. at
that.
And, then, another came to light.
This one showed my aged and infirm
body on hospital bed; that is, sup
pose it was intended for my body.
There was not much visible except
the tip of my nose and holes point
ing out where my eyes should be.
My head, torso, arms, and legs, were
wrapped in bandages which, with a
little coloring up would have made
me look like barber pole. One of
my feet had some sort of a block and
fall attached to it, the hook run
through a ring in the ceiling, and
there was my leg hauled up on an
angle of about forty-five degrees.
And, there, sitting beside me, Os-
tensibly to administer to my needs,
was a nurse. With all the pretty
young maids who go into training,
the one picked out for me had face
that would turn sweet milk to clab-
Der; stop the hands of clock; make
water into vinegar; or crash the mir
TOR whenever she looked into it. If
there had been any reality in that
picture, it wouldn't have been hard to
zee that one reason why they had
lacked my leg up was to prevent my
kicking that Venus de Milo out of the
window. There would be no chance
of recovering with something like
that looking at you with something
she'd like for you to absorb as a
smile. That valentine sender didn't
want me to get we'll. He certainly
had evil intentions.
And, one more showed an aged and
infirm old man on clutches. With
a dog in leash to lead him along, the
Inference was I was old, halt, lame,
and blind, and when I went out a.
gain, 1 should be led by something,
if l didn't have a dog trained and
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