If the ocean was beer and I was a duck, I’d dive to the bottom and never come up. * * * * * Negro Woman to Drug Clerk: “Misto drug clerk, do you all exchange things here?” Drug Clerk: “Why, yes madam, we do.” Negro Woman: “Well I was jist wonderin’ if yo’ would take back this here good fer nuffin rubber thing an’ give me a bottle of Mellen’s food instead.” * * * * * A girl’s heart is like her vanity bag--overflowing with tender little souvenirs of love; a man’s is like his pipe--carefully emptied after each “flame” has gone out. * * * * * Second Spasm Said the big red rooster to the little brown hen: “Meet me at the smoke-house at half past ten”; Said the little brown hen to the big red rooster: “I’ll not be there--in fact, I refuster”; Said the big red rooster with a smirk of pride: “Huh! I should worry, I’ll go outside”; Said the little brown hen as she left on a run: “So will I, too, you son of a gun.” * * * * * Footman: “My lord, a lady waits without.” Lord Wunckleberry: “Without what?” “Without food or clothing, your lordship.” “Well, give her some food and send her in.” * * * * * Those Kilkenny Kats A story is told of an agent who accompanied a prospective buyer to the vast granite quarries south of St. Cloud, Minn. While there a cat passed them and seemed to be in a hurry. The P. B. noticed it, but said nothing. In a few moments another cat appeared and ran in the same direction. The P. B. looked at the agent, but he seemed to be paying no attention to the cats. When the third cat finally flew by and vanished in the distance, the P. B. could no longer withhold his curiosity. “What in the world is the matter with those cats?” he asked. “Nothing the matter with the cats,” answered the agent, unconcernedly, “but it’s nine miles to dirt.” * * * * * Most women are pure and chaste--the less pure the more chased. _Our Rural Mail Box_ Yes, God Bless ’Em Skipper Bill: May you grant me the privilege of expostulating to the tune of a jazz strain, which is indicative of life, the melody of the living and the nemesis of the dead, and dying. Under the cloak of religion there are too many one-cylinder brains functioning to the detriment of our country, creed and constitution, and the space you allotted to the vituperations of an ecclesiastic ass, yclept Rev. J. Herbden Walters, was just two pages too much. Women have always been enigmas so far as man is concerned, and it doesn’t require any brand of spiritual interpretation to convince us mortals that such a condition is in keeping with Allah’s plan of things.