﻿T-BONE SLIM DISCUSSES LABOR RECORDS 
 
“Charley” Wescott, 52, dropped dead while mowing the lawn this morning—Sioux City item, July 28—Beware of the lawn mower, for it stings like an adder—NEVER disregard its rattle. Keep away from it. 
If Charley had done so he would not have dropped dead while mowing the lawn. 
NOTE:—Above item is “propaganda;” it insinuates, to the minds of strangers, that “grass grows in Sioux City.” 
Sticking the tongue out, in a child, indicates the snobbishness of the parents. 

All the world’s a stage, or a ferry—Shakespeare has it seven ages. Presombably womb, blomb, glomb, romb (rheum) tomb and domb.— That’s six, what’s the other— De Teum? Humph!— Romb, . (gone but not forgiven). Space, a place for rent. 

“The birthright characteristics of ancestors, and notably of one woman, went into the building of John W. Davis’ character. Everybody in Clarksburg . . . is emphatic about that woman, who was his mother.” —J. O’D. Bennett, (in central-west press) . 
Yes, and what a pity it was we didn’t “learn about this sooner,” we could have showered her with the highest and broadest honors of the land. 

Every four years the “newspapers” affirm that a candidate, at a tender age, had a mother—thank God for that—and that the nobull son, of a noble mother, instead of taking after Wall Avenue takes after his mother—his own mother—yes. Column after column, but, unfortunately, nine times out of ten, the good woman is dead and cannot be run for office. ‘Tis a wonder the newspapers don’t get up to date and tell us about noble mothers that are alive and kicking. . . God knows we are short of presidential timber, save for a stick or two— which is all right as far as they go. 
We read that the favorite son has absorbed the “crakteristics” of his mother and ancestors, (not too far back I hope— if Darwin’s theory holds good). Not a candidate as yet has been found that didn’t have a mother and not one that was born of two or more mothers! The newspapers bring all that out, and more. . . . . At first blush this may seem trivial, but it is not so at all. We’ve got to have the “inside dope” on these candidates, for it will never do to have a bird running for office that first saw the light of day in an incubator—they must, at least, have a mother. And the people should be duly notified of the fact by the parasite’s press which they read. ... 
We note some alleged labor union has undertaken to investigate the “labor records” of the various candidates—a waste of time. Their labor records are flawless, as flawless as a record can be made— nothing is left to chance. Everything is provided for. Their labor deeds shine forth like crazy-lightning in a Kansas sky—not that labor is benefitted. 

A labor record is there— more airtight than a perfect alibi—deeds, deeds, deeds till Hell won’t have it. . . . Without the deeds the labor record would be an impossibility. The voter need not worry; vote for anyone of them and he will vote for a friends, with a record — one who will . . . . oh, shucks. 

I’m having considerable trouble with my pitchfork. It doesn’t seem to be a paying proposition and I know it means hunger, cold, and—next winter. Therefore, I am starting for Washington this morning to put it on a cash basis.—I’ll interview labor’s friends down there and prevail upon them, pull some hokum that will inject wages into the handle of said fork in paying quantities —yes. But getting back to Labor’s friend, his pal, his bosom companions and their “record”—labor record— we must go by results, and results have been “two times nothing” 
(0+0=00). They have been functioning among the goose eggs, (000,-000) as yet. They haven’t got into the solid figures, such as $5.00, $7.00 and $10.00 per day—and let me point out, we can’t eat goose eggs.