"—As a mailer of fact, my students bad a lot of classroom theory
before ever starting the project."
Days for Dogs
Dog days are in August, they say. But that s just an old
wives’ tale. Ask the dogs. They’ll tell you that dog days are
right now!
For every senile beast groaning in his sleep by the radiator,
for every poodle on a perfumed cushion, you 11 find any number
of dogs—dogs that are dogs; great, smelly, doggy dogs—rol
licking chest deep through the snow, grinning with frosty
whiskered faces.
Snow! Here’s a chance to roll and dig and tussle. Here’s a
chance for a black dog to look white and a white dog to look
clean.
- Now’s the time for a dog with a mind for practical jokes:
From the outdoors he’ll trot straight to the nearest person, and
giving his coat a mighty shake, cause a small blizzard that s
never recorded by the weatherman. He’ll charge between legs
traversing an icy sidewalk and send pedestrians spinning like
bowling pins. Small matter. A dog leads a dog s life too many
days in a year. Now’s his season to laugh.
Now’s his time to make circles in the untracked snow, and
chase the frost-logy robins. It’s time to sing to the blueish
moon and un-bury canine treasures snowplow fashion.
So come the sun-sick August days let the humans run off to
the beach and leave poor Fido with his tongue hanging lop
sided in his head. For dogs have their days now, while man
kind is swallowing quinine pills and huddling into itself. Nine
dogs out of ten agree. Ask them.—B.H.
Gnatcketif, Old Vet
Tell Us All
A War Story
luf, Steve Jtoy
Sort of missed having my Dad down for the
weekend but his lead dog took sick and he
couldn’t make it. By the way, did you see the
pic of the Alaskan minister’s sled dog with the
little plaque around his neck? They probably
have casks of hot tea around their necks too.
Speaking of cold and who ain’t, someone
suggested that the heating plant clean out the
basement of Mary Spiller Hall and raise the
temperature a couple of degrees. Might also
prevent a hotter conflagration some other
time.
Kenton is coming! Also June Christy is
coming. The press book on the caper says
the gal is getting renumerated in the neigh
borhood of $1,000 fish per week. For your in
formation $1,000 is 13 and a third plus, times
what I get per month.
From where I sit, “Battleground" is the
best war picture I have seen. The story was
very evidently not written by the same guy
who upwhooped the Marine Corps in “The
Sands of Iwo . . .” and even an old Navy man
can pick out very subtle adaptations of cher
ished phrases that were part of the business.
I’m afraid I was a little over impressed with
the thing because some people are beginning
to be a little slow in ‘"Sounding off" when I
give the command. I got a kick out of sitting
there associating the characters on the screen
with the same types that I remember. The
present state of Eugene weathef helps to im
press you with the bone soaked cold that
those guys must have felt.
Oy^UcuuH Qiti&ivatfonl
In Winter a Young
Man's Fancy Turns
Ly Bill (l<Uf,c?i'l
y
t L £ X •
f I £ /» 6 *
Like others, I have read Paul de Kruif’s
glowig accoudt of the dew adi-histabide
drugs which are supposed to be sudded and
paidful death to the host viruledt code. But
dod't you believe it—havig caught wild, I
codfidedtly rushed over to the co-op to pur
chase a box of these little wuder-workig pills
which are supposed to get rid of codes id the
head with practically no discobfort to the
user. It seebs I ab wud of those idividuals
that notliig helps.
The odely doticeable result was great fits
of coughig ad sdeezig, a ruddig doze, ad little
spell of fallig asleep id the drowsig roob of
the library. 1 have reached the codclushud the
old fashud way of gettig rid of a code is still
the best way. Just soak id a red-hot bath, drik
as buck whiskey as possible, ad clibe idto a
bed piled high with covers. If the code does’dt
quit or your heart does’dt, at least you will be
pleasudtly edough polluted to forget the code
for a while I udderstad that medtholated ciga
rettes are a great cubfort to the code-sufferer
too.
Here is a bit bore advice to adybody who
thiks he is catchig a code. Lay id a good
sized supply of all the various cobforts ad reb
idies usually prescribed for a code . .. This id
cludes a box of disposable tissues (which
they say are dot so hard od the doze as had
kerchiefs), assorted doze drops ad throat lo
zeges, cough syrup ,ad wud of the various
brads of grease for shearing od your chest, a
bustard plaster, ad, if you’re not convidced
they wod't work, sob of the dew adi-histabide f
pills. Thed you just take all that stuff ad throw
it id the fire ad watch it burd; it’ll bake a real
pretty blaze. You bay as well, because dough
batter what you do, you’re still goig to have a
code id the head.
Apertures Cranium, Rushee, Spoke in Six Tongues
tuy Betty Ann Steaenl
(The following piece was written for the Emer
ald by Columnist Betty Ann Stevens in 1948. With
Winter term rushing in full swing, we thought it a
choice little tidbit to re-print, and are running it
forthwith to share it with you, once again.—H.S.)
The girls at Ivy’s house were groaning their way
through "membership selection week."
Rush Chairman h'elina St. Carblesnateh had the
floor, reclining with wholesale abandon, head
propped on a revised edition of Emily Post and
bobby sox braced on "Robert's Rules.”
“Now, about this legacy, Apertura Cranium,”
she shrilled. “Girls, remember the five points . . .
appearance, family, activities, grades, and person
ality. Let’s hear some pertinent comment.
“She plays bridge according to the Pi Phi sys
tem.”
"Is her Fiat a three-or five-passenger?”
“I’ve seen her drink cokes with a straw.”
“The Betas speak to her.”
'“You ought to see her sparkle in ‘Use of the li
brary’.”
“She went to Ulysses High School.”
"She has six pairs of cashmere wristlets.”
“We really need a few more blondes, and Aper
tnra's an tdbino.”
"Greasy snob! She don’t get nawthin’ below a
2.24.”
“I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!”
“Somehow, I wonder if she's just Our Type,”
mused Felina. "During dinner she repeatedly tos
sed the gravy boat over her left shoulder and snuf
fled. '1 hate Greeks,’ in German, Hungarian, Rus
sian. Italian, Portuguese, low French and Greek as
follows:
“Gehen sie zu helle !
“Pukholba a Grekvel!
“Chort vceh Greki!
“A'l inferno con tutte e Greci!
“P'rao inferno com todos os Gregos!
“Mars naturellement 1”
“Posa hellades pros Gehennas!”
Ivy observed, “Super candidate for the presi
dency of the International Relations Club.”
“But about family background,” Felina contin
ued in a dulcet shriek. “Her great grandmother
was Abigail Goodenough Leech, a founder of our
sorority, who, after exam week on March 15, 1847,
designed our original emblem, a white ribbon
around the neck from which a 10-pound brass mill
stone is dangled. However, since all three of the
chartering founders strangely developed carcino
ma. commonly known as cancer, the badge Avas dis
carded in favor of the daintly jeweled hammer and
tongs which we wear today.
‘ Her grandmother, at 42, married a prominent
KKK organizer and was an active member of the
Anti-\ ivisectionist league, Happy Gang-busting
Crocheting Circle Xo. Xine, and the American Gas
association.
“Her mother was nothing.”
“Oh, pledge her,” prompted Ivy. “With 41 va
cancies, what can we lose?”