Pat Atwill, Kay Beale, Bob Beasley, Bob Chadwick, Doug Clark, Barbara Ferre, Susie Gibson, Rene Groves, John Hamilton, Dick Hutchison, Lea Hunter, Liz Latimer, Virginia LeSeuer, Robert McKinny, Gayle Mephaw, Mary Lee Moore, Jim Singleton, George Tutwiler, Andy Wesley. 2
The University
In this Parody Issue
PEABODY'S PAGE
IT IS I, only I, Peabody the Literary Spider, who has saved th~ clientele of _this fair instit~te of higher learnrng from a dire catastrophe: The editors of this publication were contriving and conniving to sell you down the literary stream withI tremble to write it-a Christmas issue complete with such goodies as Christmas in Other Lands, How to Give Unstuffy Christmas Parties, The Other Reindeer, and The Private Life of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Professor. But the fates and I, Peabody, intervened.
Now I have nothing against the Yuletide as such. It is a venerable and quaint old tribal custom. I think quiet eggnog parties have their merits, if of course, in moderation. I'm allergic to holly, mistletoe and other weeds of the Noel, but tolerant toward the masses who advocate their use. I do not approve of the ancient legend of Santa Claus, which organism has for years, in my own private opinion, victimized the poor innocent state of childhood. Presents are acceptable, I feel, if received, but are usually too large, too small, or too exhausting, for the most part. On the whole, however, I do not condone Christmas en masse and certainly not Christmas magazines!
But the editors slap-happily dashed off their T w enty Re-al Ni-ce Christmas Presents to Make A ll by Yourself for Kith and Kin, full of spirit and good will toward most people. The copy was written, all typed with care in hopes that the printers soon would be there. I begged, I pleaded, I went down on all six knees. But to no avail. The editors are a paltry, unheeding lot, ( the cads).
And then the fates intervened, WHOOST! ! !
The fires came and then the firemen, but not before I, Peabody, had heaved the last page of tinseled copy and all the nausea of Christmas tradition into the flames. The fire was good for that, though otherwise highly regrettable. I admit my horn-rims were moist to see the old place burn. Treasure house filled with the strivings of youthful ambition, bless all the hearts of the young hopefuls, and now full only of the reek of sulfurous carnage and smoke streaks. But Troy fell also, and London has had her fires.
The editors were distraught. They wept. They were petrified lest they have to write all that glop over again. (Editors are habitually lazy.) But I DECEMBER, 1950
nobly rose to the crisis to save the day. In a brilliant coup, I seized control of the editorship. Tired I am of all the juvenile whimperings we publish. High time, I told them, for something of real Literary Merit. They agreed and departed to a local coffee house to drown the last hopeful sparks of Yuletide spirit. Then I wrote to all my Cohorts and Cronies-Bill Shakespeare, E. Hemingway , Lewis Carroll and a few more of the boys. They responded promptly, and after a little editing (Shakespeare's style has gotten a little hackneyed and Hemingway's seemed too far gone across the river and into the trees for the more dignified tone of the august slick) we had an issue. Even Whistler submitted a painting which he archly calls Wrestler's Mother ( see cover). Also I wish to acknowledge J.Milton, Eddie Guest andW. Maner ( whose contribution was called Handful of Lust, after Evelyn Waugh; tsk, tsk), who likewise submitted to the issue. But their material was rejected because of lack of structural integrity.
But Christmas spirit would seep in. I permitted, against risk of loss of dignity, a Christmas story. And then we had mahy letters, all of them signed Virginia, except one that was signed Profs Grigg & Skiff, that ran in this .:Wise: "Dear Peabody;- all my little friends say there is no S~pta Claus.'·But my papa says if I see it in THE MESSENGER,it's so." Signed "love, Virginia." (Except for that one (Conti1111edOH page 19) ' · ,; 3
ALICE · IN BLUNDERLAND
By LEWIS CARROLL (pseudopodium)
A MAD TEA PARTY
XICE had got quite out of patience with her psychology book-all that nonsense about brains and such-and had exclaimed, "I wish I' cl gone to the after-Exam tea after all!" And all at once she was there!
The February Rabbit and the Insane Haberdasher, sitting cross-legged on the rug under the piano, were having refreshments, and all at once Alice remembered she had eaten only one oyster shell (with vinegar) since she had had catnip with the Cheshire Cat three days ago. In her haste to reach the tea table, she stepped on the foot of an animal which she recognized as a mongoose.
"Oh pardon me," she said. "I hope I didn't break many bones."
"Think nothing of it," the animal replied. "You see I'm asleep and didn't feel a thing."
Alice whipped out her No-Doz to offer to the mongoose, but he had already dropped off.
After getting a plate from the table Alice made her way to the piano, and took her place with the Haberdasher and the Rabbit.
"Who," asked Alice, "are the Ladies-with-Hats -serving tea?"
"I believe they're called 'old cads' or something, and," continued the Haberdasher in a learned tone, " they aren't even serving tea."
"Who ever heard of a tea party without tea?" hmphed the February Rabbit, and even the Mongoose snorted in disdain between snores.
This noise from the Mongoose prompted Alice to timidly ask, "Does he always sleep?"
"Only on the ninth Wednesday in August," whispered the Haberdasher as he leaned over his teacup with the air of a prof disclosing an exam grade.
"August! Why, this is January!" corrected Alice.
"Mercy, my watch must be slow!" and in his amazement the Haberdasher's sleeve fell in his teacup and scorched his flannel nightshirt.
The February Rabbit who was conjugating Vermin verbs, suddenly asked, "Why do we have Exams, anyway?"
Alice and the Haberdasher "hum-ed" and the 4
latter positively stated, "Why because we've always had them! You know, Christmas, New Year's and Exams -"
"Yes," agreed Alice, "the President can change Thanksgiving, but Exams just are."
"Reminds me of a poem," volunteered the February Rabbit, who was somewhat flustered over his ignorance about Exams.
"Twinkle, Twinkle little flea
How I wonder where you be.
Up above the sea so high
Like a teaspoon in my eye."
"Bravo, bravo!" cheered the Insane Haberdasher.
"Bravo!" softly added Alice who was aware tha t people were staring.
"It's nothing," insisted the Rabbit, quite overcome with his success. "I took ' Effective Squeaking' last semester."
A sudden stir arose from the People, and th e attention of the three was diverted by the entranc e of the Red Queen.
"That," said the Haberdasher, "is THE Queen ."
"THE?" queried Alice.
"Yes, THE. She's even written a book."
"Fancy that! Is that the king behind her?"
"There is no king," corrected the Haberdashe r "That fellow would be called a bishop at any oth er university but, you see, we're Baptist."
"We're just pa-wns," chuckled the Februa ry Rabbit.
"Peonies, you mean," reprimanded the Hab erdasher with all the sternness he could must er Apologetically he said to Alice, "He's so dumb that he had to take Bath 51 three times!"
"Mercy!" exclaimed Alice, trying to peek behind the Rabbit's ear.
Two People dressed alike in red-bloomered suits entered the room and marched up to be fed by the Ladies-in-Hats.
"That's Cedledum and Cedledee," explained the Haberdasher. "They've been to make up with Jim."
(Contfoued on page 19)
UNIVERSITYMESSENGER
~bakespeareat tbe~notuball
"And do you now put on your best attire?"
Julius C.esar, I, i.
" Look to the queens there . . !"
Hamlet, V, ii.
"Welco me, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes unplagued with corns will have a bout with you ... "
Romeo and Juliet, I, v
" Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall! Give room! And foot it, girls!"
Romeo and Juliet, I, v.
" Give me that man . . "
Hamlet, III, ii.
" The kettle drum and trumpet thus bray out . Hamlet , I, iv.
My legs were not weary."
As You Like It , II, iv.
"Aye, in the catalogue ye go for men."
Macbeth, III, i.
" Come, let me clutch thee."
Macbeth, II, i.
• Hang not on my garments . " " Under your hard construction must I sit .
The Tempest, I, ii.
. More light, more light. For shame!"
" Cut short all intermission."
Twelfth Night, III, i .
Romeo and Juliet, I, v. "He seemed to find his way without his eyes."
Hamlet, II, ii.
Macbeth, IV, iii.
-D1cK Fnz.
KARMEN
(An Opera in Three Acts)
By GEORGE BIZET
ACT I
Outside the walls of Sevilla-on-the-James on the campus of a Southern university called Richmond.
Les prof esseurs are laughing. Les etudiantes are dancing. Les chiens are barking. The lake, it is smelling. It is Friday. Test week is being over until Monday. The weekend is beginning. The opera, she is beginning, too.
Bouncing, laughingly, from the campus playhouse ( an imposing structure of Chinese Gothic lines) is a chorus of blue-jeaned coeds. Their class in Cigarette Rolling 203 is being over. Together, they are singing the ever-popular Pommes De Terre Sont Bon with its ever-popular lyrics-"Oh, we're the girls from the Institute. Oh, we don't smoke and we don't chew. And we don't go with the boys who do!" Emerging from the quaint Shoppe de la Sloppe at the other side of the plaza are Joe and les garf ons. Joe and les garf ons are joining les filles in song. All are gay. All are lifting their mugs of eight-cent coffee on high. And all are singing the ever-popular C' est Le Finis De La Semaine! C'est Le Finis De La Semaine! Translated, this is meaning "there's no 'T' like a parTy!"
Our hero, Joe, a sophomore from Llhasa, Tibet, is especially liking one of these blue-jeaned cuties. He is being attracted by her green hair. With green hair, she is obviously belonging to the Westhampton Odds. Our hero is always being attracted to women who are different. He is realizing that this one is a queen! And this queen, she is )being attracted to Joe, too. He is also appearing to be different. He is shaved. He is wearing tie and coat. He is obviously belonging to the School of Business Administration.
Seductively, Karmen ( she is being called "Karmen'' for that is her name) is waddling toward Joe. Seductively, she is popping her alluring bloodshot eyes. Seductively, she is shaking the dandruff from her shoulders. Now she is singing for him. She is warbling the melodic and ever-popular Je Tiens Les Pieds Tres Gros. Joe is being haunted ..6
by this haunting girl and her haunting song. Indeed, she is reminding him of Halloween. Emotion is racking his body. A sob is escaping his trembling lips. Now, he is knowing why. A campuscanine, Hermann being his given name, is firmly planting its teeth in the calf of his leg. It is hurting so good!
When la belle Karmen is finally shutting her big mouth, she is tossing a rose to Joe. Joe is catching the rose and pressing it to his liver. As Karmen is dashing across the bridge to Westhampton, Joey, in pure tones, is bellowing the ever-popular La Vie En Rose ("a rose is a rose is a rose"). Now les garfons are marching from the plaza to La Place De La Chow. And in the distance, Karmen can be heard singing the ever-popular Je N'ai Pas Les Dents, Mais J'ai Le Nez Rouge, which is meaning-"Phil's is my destination tonight. Why not join me there for a swig of ever-lovin' Hadacol ?" Joe is knowing he will be there. The curtain is descending.
ACT II
That night . . in the inn of Phillips Pastia in the Village.
The juke box is grinding gypsy hit tunes. Les etudiantes are gayly singing gay gypsy choruses With them is Karmen. She is looking like a gypsy Indeed, the place is a gyp-sy joint. Though th e atmosphere is being charged with gayety, Joe is no t feeling so gay. It is being past bedtime and h e is being sleepy. Suddenly, he is yawning in Karmen's kisser. This is being his mistake. Karmen is slugging him on the snozzle. She is being offende d by his offensiveness. Now she is breaking fort h into the celebrated and ever-popular Habanera in which she is hinting to Joe of his social sin. In mezzo-soprano tones, · she is suggesting-"U se Ajax, the foaming cleanser. It cleans your breat h while it cracks your teeth." Joe is getting the idea. He is realizing his iniquity. His best friend is telling him. Being unsure of himself, he is leavin g Karmen is not caring. She is loving him no longe r. "Vous avei l'halitosis de la bouche," she is conUNIVERSITYMESSENGER
tinuing. The rejected Joe is moaning the tragically stirring and ever-popular Alouette, Gentille Alouette, Alouette, J e Te Plumerai, which being freely translated is meaning-"! didn't know my teeth were loaded!"
Ukeleles are strumming the wild and brilliant an d ever-popular gypsy dance, Bon Nuit, Irene. Now Karmen is meeting the handsome Escamillo Gonzales, son and pride of Ho-Ho-Kus in Joisey. Escamillo is being the football hero of the Richmond Spiders and Karmen is falling for him. He is being her kind of guy. He is embracing her and singing-rrLe gendre feminin des mots qui n'ont pas la parite du gendre, est indique de la maniere suivante . ... "This is meaning-"Sister, don't be moronic. I'm more atomic that platonic!"
We are seeing Joe outside the inn. He is being consoled by his old flame, Mickey, a fragile country lass now enrolled in RPI. Mickey is singing her ever-popular air, Ouvrez La Fenetre Et Fermez La Porte (Don't cry, Joe. Come home to Fluvanna. Your old lady has Bright's Disease). But our Joe is thinking only of Karmen.
Back inside Phillips Pastia' s, Karmen and her three cronies, Maxine, LaVerne, and Patty, are seated in a booth. Maxine is suggesting a game of Bridge But LaVerne is saying, "nix." She is remembering that the last time she played the bridge fell on her. Hence, they are agreeing on a game of Old Maid. A hand is played and Karmen is ending up the old maid. Karmen is being unhappy. Consequently, she is deciding to sing. She is singing the ever-popular Card Song in which she is bewailing her future. The strange and ever-popular theme of the Fate Music is being heard for a moment and is then being lost in the swirling gypsy music. The curtain is descending. ( Backstage, the cast is going out for a smoke. Frontstage , the audience is going ottt for air.)
ACT III
Saturday Afternoon at the Stadium.
Th e band is playing as the Richmond fans are singing the rousing and ever-popular Le Vieux Rouge Et Le Bleu. Les hommes are cheering. Les femmes are waving Confederate flags. It is being the big Richmond-William and Mary football game. Out on the gridiron, the handsome Escamillo is leading his team to victory via a charming ballet number. This team is obviously on its toes.. The Richmond stands are shouting "Torredor ! Torredor!" The W&M stands are replying with DECEMBER, 1950
gusto--"Use the cuspidor. That's what it's for!"
The scene is being one of great tenseness and excitement. By the stadium gate, Karmen is standing and bubbling with pride. She is being proud of Escamillo. He is her kind of guy. She is wearing his frat pin. Joe is no longer being in her thoughts. But suddenly, Joe is appearing before her. He is grabbing her. Wildly, he is chanting the ever-popular Je T'adore. Frantically, Karmen is answering-"Shut the door, yourself!" Joe is being crazed with jealousy. He is quickly buying a pronto pup. He is smearing it with mustard. Karmen is screaming and breaking away. Joe is overtaking her and stabbing her through the heart with the pup. Karmen is dropping to the ground. Karmen is being dead. Now, Joe is quickly buying another pronto pup. He is smearing it with mustard. He is eating it. Joe is being hungry. Suddenly, the crowds are pouring from the stadium. Richmond is being triumphant. Escamillo is being hailed. The music rises to a frenzied climax as Joe, standing by the stiff which was his beloved, moans the tragic and ever-popular Je Ne Suis Pas Heureux, meaning-"Oh, phooey, I've missed the game!" The curtain is descending. The opera; she is ending.
-AL PITIMAN.
"Dear Charlie,
We should have been more careful for I am with Byrd. Love, Mabel."
THE BUZZER
(THANK You, DOROTHY PARKER!)
Please God, let the buzzer ring now. Oh, let him call me now. It's such a little thing to ask of you. Please, please, please
Perhaps if I didn't think about it , they'd buzz me. It happens that way sometimes. I know what I'll do. I'll start my argyles I'll knit slowly and maybe by the time I've completed three rows it'll buzz. I won't cheat. If he calls when I finish the first row, I won ' t stop; I won ' t buzz back ' til I get to the third row. One stitch , two, three , four . . . Oh, please ring Please!
I just won't look at my watch again . I just won't , that's all. It's nine-thirty and he said he'd call at seven o'clock. ''I'll call you at seven, Honey. " He did call me Honey. In fact , twice . He couldn ' t have cared if I called him. I know you shouldn ' t do it-they hate it. But, it'd been two whole days since I'd talked to him. And it was a very casual conversation No, he certainly couldn't have thought I was chasing him. He didn ' t have to say he ' d call later After all, it wasn't as if I'd asked him to . . or did I? Nevertheless, he said it and he'll surely keep his word . Oh God , make him call. ... Make him.
' TU call you at seven, Honey. " He was rushed and all the boys in the dorm were crowded around the phone booth , but he called me " honey. " At least, I have that, even if I never see him again. But that's so little, so insignificant. Not even enough to make one good cherished memory. Oh, God , I'll be such a good girl. I'll study hard, never again set foot in the smoker. I will be good , I will. Oh, let him call me now. Oh, please.
Oh , this is ridiculous. Okay Suppose he doesn ' t call? That isn't such a terrible thing, is it? The same thing is probably happening to a dozen other girls right now. But I don't care what happens to other girls. Why can't that buzzer ring? Why can't it? Can't you hear me? It would be a strain for you to buzz one little time, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it? I said. Damn you , anyway . What is the matter with me? I must stop this nonsense. I'll return all the clothes I've borrowed; and maybe by the time I get back, he'll have called. I'll be so nice to him - if it kills me. If he says he can't come over tonight , I'll just murmur 8
pleasantly, "Why, that's all right. I had to rea d some parallel anyway." Parallel, a joke! Since when have I gotten so eager.
He must like me a teeny bit. He couldn ' t hav e called me "honey" twice if he didn't. Why , o f course, he still likes me. If the buzzer would just ring. I'd be so sweet and gay, just the way I wa s when we first met. Dear God, let him call. Please, oh, please.
If he doesn ' t call me, I'll know God is mad at me. I'll knit three more rows; and if the buzzer doesn't ring then , I'll know it's absolutely useless. Okay-so I'm being wicked. Maybe even going t o hell. Well, I don ' t care. Do you hear me? I don 't care.
I must stop acting like a child . Suppose he is two hours late calling - that's nothing to g et hysterical about. He'll be disappointed if he knows I've been crying. Boys don't like their girls to cry. He wouldn 't cry. I wish I could make him cry. I'd do it. I'd like to hurt him like hell.
I only wish he knew how I felt. But I could never tell him-he ' d hate that. Always preten ding, why must we be always pretending? If he 'd call , I really wouldn ' t mind pretending , thou gh. Of course! He ' s coming over without botheri ng to call. He ' s probably already here by now. M ay· be something happened. Maybe he's at the bott om of the lake. I can ' t picture him drowned. I wish he were That's a nasty thing to wish. It's a lovely thing to wish. ' Cause then no one else could h ave him. He ' d be mine.
It's silly to wish people dead just because they don ' t call. Maybe he's involved in an intricate ac· counting problem. He might even be waiting for me to call him. I've even got a nickel. . N o, I won ' t. Oh, God, don ' t let me You know if he wanted to he'd call me. I know that I mustn't keep hoping . There is no point in it.
I'll never call him again. He can rot in that damn dorm before I'll call him again. If he wants me, he knows just where I am. He ' s so sure of me; so damn sure! It would be easy to call him. He probably wouldn't mind After all, it's so h ard to get South Court at night. I must stay in this ( Continu ed on page 17)
UNIVERSITY MESSENGER
THE KILLERS
B. CHADWICK, E . HEMINGWAY,Collaborators
THE two men with deep maroon circles under their eyes opened the door of M . Mayeoux' s Le Shoppe de Sloppe They shoved their way through myriad Salvation Army pots and stood before the lunch counter. They weaved and ' helched with great glee.
"What'll it be, men?" asked Clearence J., the bartender with a black mustache.
" Two shots of Red Eye," replied one of the men. He was wearing a plaid jacket that had UV a monogrammed on the sleeve. He had bloodshot eyes.
Clearence J. grimaced and said, "This here is a teetotalin school. We don't serve no thin except beer and wine."
The man with the bloodshot eyes turned to his companion and said, "Cohort, did you hear what Bright Boy said? "
"Yeah , Bright Boy,". said Cohort. Cohort was we aring a plaid jacket that had UV a monogrammed on the sleeve He had bloodshot eyes Th e left one was glass and sported vein-lines that spelled out an abbreviation in two-point type. It said UVa
. The man with the plain bloodshot eyes looked at ' the wine list. " Two mugs of Chianti , Bright Boy," he said.
"Sorry," said Clearance J., " We ain ' t got none of that."
" Listen, Bright Boy." The man grabbed him by a mustache twirl , and breathed hard on his face . "We w ant Chianti, we want Chianti, we want Chianti ," he chanted.
" Go get it, Bright Boy," the man with the glass eye chimed in.
Clearence J.went into the back room where M. Mayeaux kept his secret gambling tools. Clearence J.bowed low and performed a gesture that signified he wished to speak with his employer.
M . Mayeaux looked up , said " tee , hee," and then looked down again . He was busy with his hobby -a new and startling invention. He had stolen it from a student he had chloroformed while making a secret study of bones. The new invention was an ingenious one-M. Mayeaux scraped the glue off eight-cent postage stamps; and with his secret formula, M Mayeoux had concocted a DECEMBER,1950
new and startling product, beer-scented chewing gum for the girl that doesn't drink.
Clearence J. wa tched as he performed incantations. He spit into a turquoise spitting pit especially constructed for collecting saliva. M. Mayeaux had visions of conquering the world with his spitting pit.
M. Mayeaux then churned around and hit Clearence J. "Tee, hee," he gurgled.
Clearence J., abashed, turned away, walked into the lunch-counter room and whined, "We ain't got no Chianti ."
The two men looked at each other, and being in an altruistic mood ( they had pilfered a pint of Charter Soak from a portly student who had addressed them as "neighbahs") they merely growled at Clearence J.
"Okay, Bright Boy," they said in unison. "M:;i,ybe you can tell us this: we come down here to Idll a guy. Name of Ole Art the Greek. We are desirous of knowing jnst when this here character gits out of class and comes in here."
Clearence J. shook with fright. "I don't know, " he said.
" Bright Boy don ' t know. Now ain't that too bad," said the glass-eyed man. He took out a chisel and chiseled on Clearence J. "We' re killers , see Talk."
Clearence J. flasked out a bottle a~d gulped down a drink. He shuddered slightly. "Ole Art is a Sexiology major, " he said. "He gets out of Advanced Boodling 2000 at 10:20. But please, please don ' t kill ole Art. He is a good Ole Greek. "
" Now listen here, Bright Boy," said the man with the chisel and the glass eye. " Ole Art needs killin. He stole our fraternities' prize case of Scotch. He needs killin He needs killin bad."
Clearence J. was intrigued. Fraternity men, he thought. What meanies fraternity men are. "What fraternity are you enrolled in? " he asked.
"We ain ' t enrolled, Bright Boy, we're plastered in it." The glass-eyed man pulled himself erect , crossed one eye and said, "We are members of Alpha Sigma Sigma." He then rolled on the floor in a trance. His eye fell out. He picked it up, ( Continued on page 17)
I think that I shall never see A grade as lovely as a D. Perhaps, if subjects further fall, I'll never see a grade at all.
-OGDEN NASH.
I
We are the social men
We are the carefree men
Flunking together
Insides filled with partying. Alas!
II
This is the way to flunk
This is the way to flunk
This is the way to flunk
Not with an E but a flat F.
-T. S. ELIOT.
An exam is an exam is an exam
But a grade is a paltry thing.
-GERTRUDE STEIN ,
Jlolida~
Blessings on thee, little girls, Loaf er clad, and minus curls, With thy rolled-up dungarees; Cramming madly for those Cs; With thy blue eyes, bloodshot soon, From studying morning, night, and noon . Put away thy dreams of Yule, No thoughts are you allowed save school, Pick up all those notes again, Stuff them madly in your brain. Christmas time--vacation' s gone, Settle down; your work's undone, Fret not upon the sleeping lass; She's Phi Bete--you've got to pass!!
-JOHN GREENLEAF WHITT IER, UNIVERSITY MESSENGER
The Man For The Position
HENRY DAVIS BRADSHAW inched his two hundred and ten pounds a little closer to the bus window and glared contemptuously at the small, red-haired, chocolate-smeared organism with whom he was reluctantly sharing the seat.
Said organism swallowed at least three quarters of the Hershey bar in one gulp, and looked up at his fellow passenger.
" Hi, Mister! Ain't all the Christmas trees pretty, though?' '
'Tm sure I hadn't noticed-I must say, however , that it seems rather stupid to begin decorating so early in December."
"I think it's just super! And Santa Claus will soon be here, too! "
" Oh? Please give him my regards." Henry stared out the window; the conversation was terminated without further ado.
Delving into the folds of his bulky overcoat , Henry again produced the all-important letter .
Dear Henry:
As you may know , I've been extremely fortunate since our graduation from the university last June. I'm now general manager of Hofmann's Department Store here in Mainville.
Yesterday our employment department brought to my attention the urgent need for an addition to our staff during this holiday rush season. At that time I had no suggestions to make . Last night, however, I was glancing through the University Annual when I noticed your picture with the Psychology Club. " Say," I thought, "Henry Davis Bradshaw is just the man for that position A psych major is just what we need!"
So here's my offer: There ' s a well-paying , responsible job awaiting you here, if you're interested Although it's temporary, you'll be your own boss, and you should make numerous contacts which will help you.
If you' cl like to have the position, come down to my office, on the second floor of Hofmann ' s, Friday morning at ten A.M. Unless I hear from you to the contrary before Thursday evening, I'll assume that you want the job. I'm sorry I can give you no more details, but it should be an interesting job for a psychology major.
Sincerely, Bill Canton
Who would want more details? Henry thought, as he replaced the letter in the envelope A wellpaying job-one in which he could use his psychology training-numerous contacts - obviously it was in the personnel department. Why, it was perfect! Even if it hadn't been such a good job , the idea of making some money would have sold him on the proposition.
It was peculiar, though , that Bill Canton should be the one to offer him a position. For since the semester that Henry had assisted Professor Hailly with a child psychology class, Bill had seemed distinctly unfriendly. The trouble had arisen when Bill had contradicted Henry ( and the book) on some minor theory. Both of them had become unduly excited- the outcome being that Henry had spoken scornfully of business administration as a "crip" major. Bill Canton had looked calmly at his instructor and retorted icily, " Psychology loses its importance when psych majors have more interest in theories than in actual cases."
Bill remembered only too well Henry's disparaging remarks about the problem children in hi s clinical psych lab. The class had remembered to o - they were all for Bill. But it was Henry wh o recommended a "D" in the course for Bill Canton-a grade whic,h marred four years of "A's " and " B' s."
Henry supposed he must have imagined an antipathy on Bill ' s part after that incident. Tha t Bill should have remembered him, and his lack of success in obtaining a position, seemed evidence of a real friendship.
Hofmann' s loomed into sight. Henry jerked on the bellcord and pulled himself to his feet. H e stumbled past the chocolate -covered red-head, only to have a moist Hershey bar transferred to his coat sleeve.
"Darned brat! " he mumbled . " You'll be a delinquent before long! "
Still fuming, Henry brushed by Christmas tre es and excited shoppers, and ascended the steps to the second floor of Hofmann ' s. He was still pan ting when he was shown into the manager's office
Bill Canton's face was flushed as he arose to greet Henry. In fact, there seemed to be a he sitancy-almost a look of guilt, thought Hen ry. Oh , well, he ' s probably just a little awed by my presence.
( Continu ed on page 17)
UNIVERSITY MESSENGER
The Skeptic
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus?
I ask You--
Is there a snow, a snowball, a foot, a football, a football team, a mule team, "Rumors are flying."
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus?
I ask You-II
Is there a ghost, a spirit, a shot, shot who?, Who's Who, What's What, Which'sWhich, Which one did you make? hmmmmm !
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus?
I ask You-III
Is there love, is there spring, shall we sing, "Get out of here with that Boom, Boom, Boom," Limberger Cheese? Cheesit the censors!
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus I ask You-IV
Is there a wheel, a big wheel, a round wheel, a Wheeler, an O.D K., a hip, hip, hay and a ray, ray, ray, fight, team fight!
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus ? I ask
You-V
Is t here an lam, an Iambic Pentameter, a you am, we am, an exam-How long have you been here?
DECEMBER, 1950
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus? I ask
You-VI
Is there a Milton, a Shakespeare, a Chadwick, a lampwick, a wicked prof?
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus? I ask
You-VII
Is there a John Barrymore, a john, a John Gielgud, a good anything, a J. Gone Cary?
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus? I ask
YouVIII
Is there a fraternity, a brother, a kith, a kin, a kissing kin, a Kinsey Report (No further data) .
You ask
Me
Is there a Santa Claus? I ask
You-IX
Is there a thing ( ask Coleslaw), is the play the thing, is there a fire, a firebug, a play on fire, a playhouse on fire ( ask Peabody)
You ask Me
Is there a Santa Claus ? I ask
You-X
Is there reproduction, miosis, mitosis, halitosis (Even your best friend won't tell you) So--
Dun' t Esk!
M. L. \Y/. CAFTER, The style of The Lampoon. 13
THERUNINTHESTOCKING
New Movies On Broadway
"WHAT ABOUT ADAM?" a sequel to «All About Eve" Starring Adam Apples.
"JOHN STILL LOVESMARY" starring John Wants and Mary Dont.
"THE RUSSIANSTOOLPIGEON" starring the lately deceased Russian Actor, I. Shuda Kiepp Miebigg Mauthshudd.
"STROMBOILI" a hot, raging, and passionate film starring Angred Bamberg and directed by Hans Ramblini.
DOUG. CLARK.
THIS WEEK marked the opening of the 1950-51 season at the Metropolitan Opera. This memorial event is not only the foiinal opening but also the scene of the premier of a new opera, The Love of Three Lemons, by the great Amerasian composer, C. Truss Fruit. Mr. Fruit, who now resides in California was moved emotionally to write this work while strolling through a lemon orchard of a friend.
The principal roles of the opera will be sung by, as usual at the Met, some of the greatest singers of our time. The part of the pure and demure heroine, Moomoo Onyu, will be sung by Mme. Owatta Bustinall, the hefty soprano from Moravia.
The part of her best friend and confident is to be sung by the capable mezz-soprano, Mme. Dela K. Tessen, recently with the Pastrami Opera Co.
The leading tenor role of Ferdinand will be sung by the new French tenor, Hors D'Oeuvres , and Lawrence Tidbit sings the part of the magician.
The intricate plot of the opera centers around the spurned love of Moomoo for Ferdinand, the handsome young dairy farmer. In the first scene, she tells of her plight in the moving aria, "No Other Love."
In the second act, Moomoo tells her pitiful story to her two friends, Elsie and Bossie, when Ferdinand enters. In the difficult narrative, Oh Land of Hope and Glory, he tells Moomoo of a land far away where a special type of lemons grow which he must obtain. He swears that he will marry her if she will secure three of these fruit for him.
As Moomoo sets out on her journey, she sings 14
M/tl
the haunting, Mule Train followed by the rapturous aria, Oh Joy, Oh Rapture Undefined.
With the help of a kind Magician named Lemonio, she succeeds in her task and bears the lemons joyfully back to her loved one.
"Now," he exclaims in recitative, " I have the lemons to go in my new vat of Purple Passion! "
The lovers embrace as the curtain falls to the strains of the beautiful drinking duet, Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes.
Best Seller List
FICTION
I. THE RETURNOF THE NATIVE, by Izzie Bak.
II. STAGNANTWATERS, by Cess Poole.
III. THE TIGER'SREVENGE, by Lawd Claude.
IV. TWELFTHNIGHT, by Fay Teague.
V. THE LOSTCHORD, by Wanda Ware.
VI. THE NAGGINGWIFE, by Ishi Bitshi (Japanese in Trans.)
VII. TRIP DOWN THE HALL, by I. Hadacal.
VIII. A ScREAMIN THE NIGHT, by I. C. Fingers.
IX. AN OFFICE AFFAIR, by Dick Tophone.
NONFICTION
I. THE SEXLIFE OF A GOAT, by Minnie Kidds.
II. THE SOVIETCONFESSION, by Cy Beria.
III. CHARLESI, by I. B. Headed.
UNIVERSITY MESSENGER
YOU ARE THERE
(History Was Never Like This)
Monday, April 3, 1865. Richmond, Va. is being evacuated and the Yanks ( damn their hides) are marching in with their glasses raised on high. (They had just captured the tavern.) All over the city you can hear the people singing, "Save That Confederate Money Boys, The South Will Rise Again." Monday, April 3, 1865. Grant is staggering into Richmond. YOU ARE THERE.
" This is Harvey Dudson speaking to you from the bar of the Spotswood Hotel, the only hotel in town where you make your own bed. You'll find hammer, saw, ]umber and nails in each room. All around me people are running about, screaming and grabbing for the sky. The bartender just sold the last bottle of Miller's. But enough of this. I now switch you to Valter Vinchell in the pressroom of the Collegian. Come in Valter ."
"Flash! Flash! Ladies, Gentlemen, and Yankees. This is your Con£ederate Correspondent telling you how good a reporter I am. Lee has just left the city with his army. That is a fact that I reported last year in my weekly television program. And they called me a defeatist. How do you like that Mr. and Mrs. Confederate States of America? Flash! Word has just come in that General Lee is advancing to the rear toward Appomattox Court House. Much as I hate to do it I must switch you to D. D. T. Kaltenborn, the man who is always right, with Lee's army."
"Thank you, Valter. At present Grant seems to be ahead but his strength lies in the city. When the rural and farm soldiers come in the picture will be changed somewhat. I am trying to get General Lee to my microphone but he seems to be busy talking to a very young man who is taking notes of everything the general says. I can't get Lee but here is the little boy. What is your name, sonny?"
"My name is Douglas Youall Freeman and the weather here in the Southland is beautiful today."
"Why are you taking such volumes of notes on the general, Doug?"
"Heck, you gotta have something to fill up four volumes."
"Thank you. I see now that Lee can get to my microphone. Good morning, General. Do you have 16
any statement as to why Grant entered the capital before you expected him?"
"Our whole plan was centered around Lotta Talk Payne, Confederate Master Spy. She was to entertain Grant and the Northern Army. She was going to say a few words. Well, even Payne can run out of words. Our plot failed and Gran t marched in . Oh, by the way, D. D. T. will you set one of your contemporary columnists straight. Th e war was not started by a Dutchman named Roosevelt and his wife, Queen Eleanor."
"Thank you, General Lee. I now switch you to Polly Parsons in Hollywood. (Cemetery, that is.) ''
"From where I am sitting the situation is very grave. But here is my first exclusive. I have wit h me on the tombstone Drip Pearson, that wonde rful predicter of things to come. Tell me, Drip, ho w do things look to you?"
"I predict that Lee will win by 50,000 votes. I know the bookies are giving differe:Otodds but I just have one of my hunches."
"Thank you, Drip. Now for my second exclusive. Here is Mr. Tight of Time magazine. Wh at are your comments?"
"Well , things don't look so good. At first it looked as if Lee was going to carry the ball. ( see SPORTS.) Then Grant came out of his drunk en daze ( see Schenley) with his army of miners and office workers ( see BUSINESS) The Confedera tes got their usual measure of food ( see "Eat Less and Like It"), cursed ( see RELIGION), and too k a powder (see MEDICINE). For any other deta ils, see Milton Berle every Tuesday."
"Thank you, Mr. Tight. I will now turn you back to Harvey Dudson in the Collegian pr essroom."
"Oh."
"O.K., Polly. Before I leave the office to pu t in my time at Rockingham, I h~ve one more guest I want you to meet. General Sherman, have you anything to say?"
"Commentators is Hell."
Monday, April 3, 1865. Grant is staggering into Richmond. YOU ARE THERE.
-DICK Fn-z. UNIVERSITYMESSENGER
The Man For The Position
(C ontinued from pag e 12)
'' It's good to see you, Henry-sit down, won't you? "
" Oh, I haven't much time-just came by to check about that job. Is it still open?"
" It surely is. But perhaps I'd better give you a few more details . "
" That will be unnecessary, I think. When does it begin? "
" Why, just as soon as you like . Everything is ready for you. But if you ' d let me tell you a little ;>" more . ..
" Nonsense-now if you'll show me the way . . ."
"W ell , all right. Let's stop by this closet o~ our way out. "
A half hour later, Henry Davis Bradshaw eased him self into his massive chair. He felt an oppressive heat arise about him , as a gentleman was ushered toward him for an interview . H enry cleared his throat -
"W ell , youn g man , put away those chocolate dro p s and tell Old Santa what you want for Christmas."
KATH E RINE BEALE.
The
Buzzer
(Cont inue d from page 8)
room. I'll hide my nickel. Then I can't call him. I have some pride.
W hat's pride? Maybe I misunderstood him. Maybe he said for me to call him That's probably what happened. I misunderstood him. Oh , God, do~' t let _me think this way . You know I'm wrong.
I 11thmk about something else I'll just sit. But I can ' t sit still. I really could read my parallel. ?~ a magazine story No , they 're always so idealistic. Always lies, lies, lies. Sweet and true lovehell!
W hy am I so excited? It's such a trivial thing . Oh, Go d , please let that buzzer ring. Couldn't you , please ? Maybe not now , but in a little while ~am n , I've dropped a stitch Oh, well, I'll pull tt out and begin these all over again If it hasn ' t buzzed then I'll find my nickel and call him. I swear I will. Oh, let him call me before that. Please, God, please.
One stitch, two, three, four, five . . . .
MARY LEE MOORE.
The Killers ( Continued f ram pag e 9) looked at the clock, and said, " Ole Art ain't coming, but we're again to git him. We're killers "
Both of the men chugged the rest of their stolen pint and went out. Clearence J. clung limply to the lunch counter. I must warn Ole Art, he thought. He is a good Ole Greek, he continued, thinking.
He took off his silver lame apron and hurried over to a great big dormitory. Mrs. Johnson was peroxiding General. She glanced up as Clearence J. buzzed past. "Git out of here with that boomboom-boom," she shrieked, but Clearence J. didn't stop. He ran directly to Ole Art's room in the tower. He didn't knock, just walked boldly in .
Old Art lay on the bed. There were five fifths and a carton of marijuanas on the bureau. Ole Art was a cross-country man.
"The killers are here, Ole Art," Clearence J. screamed . "The killers have come to git you." He paused , and lit one of Ole Art's reefers. "The killers, Ole Art, the killers."
"Tell em to go to hell," Ole Art mumbled. Then Ole Art stopped speaking. He was passed out.
Cleare n ce J. felt kinda woozy, so he left the room and went back to Le Shoppe de Sloppe. He felt real bad about Ole Art. He is a good Ole Greek, he thought.
He thought some more about Ole Art He could not stand it any longer. ''I've got to get out of this damn Le Shoppe de Sloppe, " he said aloud. "No," he changed his mind, "I must tell M. Mayeoux. He is clever as all hell. Maybe he can stop the killers from killin Ole Art."
Clearence J . ran into the secret back room and made overtures to M . Mayeaux in Ole Art's behalf.
" Please help good Ole Art , M. Mayeoux," Clearence J begged. "Stop the killers from killin him. They are real mean ."
M. Mayeaux turned from his newest secret invention and thumbed his nose at Clearence J. "Tee, hee," he said
Clearence J had tears in his eyes. He decided to go out and git stinkin drunk.
Put Your Shoes On, Lucy
She dwelt among the besodden ways
By rivers of scotch and rye
A maid who made Alph Sigma Sig
And here's mud in your eye.
-W. lf/ ordsworth.
DECEMBER,1950
Editorially Speaking
We wish this editorial could be a parody in keeping with the rest of the issue. But it cannot. It concerns a parody, however, and the question we wish to hold up for your consideration is this: has modern collegiate education become a parody on real learning? The phrase "real learning" may sound snobbishly academic until it is broken down into its proper parts, the ability to reason beyond the printed page and the classroom and the acquiring of an adequate cultural background that promotes an interest in the world beyond the bronze marker on Three Chopt Road.
We may be exaggerating the situation, but there seems to prevail on campus a general apathy toward all things which do not immediately touch the students' own little world. A student is required by the University and the competitive modern world to learn; he does not actively wish to acquire. The degree is no longer only the symbol of college education; it is an end in itself. The local color of college life-i.e., football, the college weekend, a night at River Road-has become the dominant color tone.
We are not advocating a school of long-haired individuals. We are merely deploring the fact that the cultural crew-cut seems here to stay.
The basic reason for this apathy, we feel, is the lack of stimulation toward anything beyond next test period and the ensuing weekend to celebrate its close. College is the .time the individual should be stimulated to a more adult maturity and interest. If the stimulation does not come now, chances are it never will. Both faculty and students are equally to blame.
Taking this as our cue, we talked to some of the better students on campus, and the general consensus of opinion was that the professors are too busy briefing their students for the next monthly quiz to make certain that those facts are being assimilated into a broader background. As one student put it, we are too busy memorizing to learn. The hardest course is not guaranteed to teach. The resulting grade is a poor yardstick with which to measure the knowledge absorbed.
There are, we admit, certain professors whose classes are·stimulating. We remember one student who gratefully said, "Every time that prof finishes a lecture, I feel like cheering." But the average 18
professor lends his particular field too little contagious enthusiasm to give that quickening of interest that ought to be the goal of collegiate instruction. The most damning criticism that can be leveled against a professor is that what is learne d in his class is learned from the textbook alone or from outside reading. But that same criticism is heard all too often.
As to the student, the enthusiasm he brings to college is too often dampened by the indiffere nt and disinterested attitude of the upperclassme n. We might as well face it: the old high-school discrimination against the so-called "brain" is un iversally practiced. If a person's conversation tran scends the commonplace of campus life, he is cubbyholed as a "culture-vulture," is considered just a little odd, and-shame on him-is not really one of the crowd. It is heresy to prefer to read a book rather than rehash last night's party.
The lack of leisure time for anything above and beyond academic requirements is an excuse generally proffered but hardly acceptable. We are not talking about academic requirements now, but the student's own leisure which is .after all a matter of his own choice. College is no union and the University does not give time and a half for extracurricular thinking. If conversation is shallow and thinking superficial, it is because the student has not dug deep enough with the tools his profess ors should have given him. To the student who br ags he hasn't read a book since he entered college that wasn't required, we offer pity and condolen ce. The student who likes his learning spoon-fed cheats only himself. Lash out against the fac ulty all you like, but the blame is not theirs alone. No professor alive can stimulate a closed mind or even salvage a narrowing mind. The desire must first be there.
Again we do not feel we have exaggerated the situation unduly. It is a problem for students and faculty alike. Modern collegiate education is fast becoming a parody without wit or reason on true learning. The solution is intuitively obvious. Stand· ards and values need readjusting. It is high time for a wider perspective, a quickening of inte rest. Collegiate life needs to be broader than the nar· row geographical limits of a campus.-B. B. C. UNIVERSITY MESSENGER
"That's Adams, he gets all the girls since he smokes a Kaywoodie"
@)I/,_~~-
KAYWOOD IE
A Kaywoodie Pipe has the character and style that puts a plus in your personality.
Flam~-G:ain briar is exclusive with Kaywood1e- 1ts_b':auty identifies it anywhere. Flame-Gram 1streated so it is extra sweetsmoking . Kaywoodie Co., Estab. 1851, 630 Fifth Ave., New York-and London. Kaywoodiesrangefrom $5. up, accordingto the qualityof the briar. Sendfor booklet 18.
Peabody's Page
(Co ntinued from page 3)
hitherto commented upon.) Thinking it best to preserve the innocence of childhood ( and the psych department) as long as possible, I am running a brief article ent"itled "Yes-Virginia-thereis-a-Santa Claus," which I hope will enlighten all those who doubt. I bow in deference to that ancient hallucination.
But if the hallucination does exist, his blessings on you. And may he bring each of you one of those nauseous coonskin caps, the newest fad. Oh, memory of D. Boone, how they defile you!
Merry Christmas to all.
PEABODY.
Alice in Blunderland (Conti nued from page 4)
"Whatever for?" asked Alice.
"They cut Jim too many times, of course."
In her astonishment Alice took a bite from her teacup and tried to drink her chocolate pretzel. Then she moved farther under the piano just to be safe.
Delighted screams from some of the People on the Oriental rug roused Alice's curiosity, and she warily peeked from under the piano stool.
"What's the matter?" asked the February Rabbit who had started reviewing his American Mystery notes.
"She's gotten pinned, you simpletons!"
Alice and the Rabbit looked again and sure enough one of the People was wearing a purple enamel pin in the shape of a question mark with the Greek letters NE. She's a New Enigma girl!
"Who's the lucky boy?" asked the February Rabbit, who had classified her immediately as A Cute Blonde People.
"No one knows. It's a New Enigma, you see," explained the Haberdasher, feeling quite superior.
"Doesn't she know?" persisted the Rabbit.
"That's enough about that," emphatically stated the Insane Haberdasher.
Alice drained the last drop of her tea-thatwasn ' t-tea, and said, "I should be studying."
And all at once she was!
VIRGINIA LESEUER.
Campus Interviews on Cigarette Tests
Number3 ••• THE GNU
"I gnu the answers... but I wasn't talking!"
hedebating team couldn't make much use of this non-talkative baby •.. but one look at his "literary leanings" tells you that tests don't buffalo him. 'Specially those tricky cigarette tests! As a smoker, you probably know, too, that one puff or one sniff - or a mere one-inhale comparison can't prove very much about a cigarette! Why not make the sensible test - the 30-Day Camel Mildness Test. You judge Camel mildness and flavor in your own "T-ZONE" ( T for Throat, T for Taste) : .. for 30 days. Yes, test Camels as a steady smoke and you'll see why ...
More People Smoke Camels than any other cigarette!
