﻿Bravely Do We Fear 
 
Mutual fears — a “fearing-bee.” 
Business is not a good “risk,” now days. The good natured ones are bum’d out of house and home, while the dirty, mean, despicable ones flourish like the Rose of Sharon, Pa., U. S. A. 

Comes again the struggle between the SUPERNATURALS — Modernists a n d FundaMentalists.—”Lay the bible on the table and let’s debate it,” they say. Wow! Thasallright. No blood will be spilt. 
Congress will please note “terrible slauter” of creeds and pass proper laws curbing radio’ collectionless sermons during church hours. 

I met her. I met her, today—a pair of rosy lips, nothing more. Not a thing. 
Ever see a pair of lips come floating through the air; about five feet from the ground—supported by nothing; no dress; no form; no face; no eyes, even; just a pair of scarlet lips, well matched? You have not? Ah, I knew you hadn’t. That is seeing red! 

If it wasn’t for the blizzard that is raging, 
“This would be a pleasant day; 
If it wasn’t for the war that we are waging, 
“We” would be contented —maybe gay; 
If it wasn’t for the fact that we are aging, 
“Our” young life would not be growing grey. 

Yes indeed, and two lines are missing— so, we shall proceed to discuss “Fear.” There’s one thing about me I admire, that is my willingness to discuss a thing pro OR con; from any angle—especially when “that” thing has no bearing upon matters before the house—that is “fear.” Fear is more a part of us than our pants, but neither of them is going to prevent us dumping the boss from our backs. Pants or no pants, fear or no fear, off he goes. You might as well tell me that I ,because I have a hollow tooth, should not aspire to give my riders the grand heave and the merry ha, ha . 
Man tells me: Fear makes of us slaves. Alright. I’m going to prove “the fear,” and then prove that fear doesn’t make slaves of us—then I will prove that I haven’t proved it, and so on: I’ll argue that black is black. 
A tiger attacks a lion not because it is fearless, but because it is afraid to turn his back upon the lion. How brave do you want me to be? You kill a louse because you fear it will destroy your comfort— so do I when I’ve got ‘em. Bravely do we fear. Everything that lives and breathes fears—lunatics and their beastly counterpart excepted. You are traveling and arrive at a river. You stop. Why? I will tell you. You were afraid the water would not hold your weight. You stopped, didn’t you? Why didn’t you keep on walking straight across the Mississippi?—Ah, you feared you would drown. Good judgment, but fear, nevertheless! 
A soldier’s knees may be knocking together, still he has courage. Another one. Brave, rushes over the top. He KNOWS no fear.—They don’t want to be at the front? What keeps them there? Fear? Are they courageous cowards? Are they timidly brave? “Fear makes us slaves.” 
“US” mean workers. Then, workers only are made slaves by fear? Fear, according to that, doesn’t have the effect of enslaving the master. Now, he either fears or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, he is braver than the soldier. If he fears, the fear operates differently on him than on a worker. Either that or he is a slave. 
As a slave, we have no quarrel with him, but he is riding us. He fears that if he doesn’t ride us, then somebody will ride him. Ah, he “fears”— I thought so. Fear, then, has put him on our backs and fear, then, has put us in under him. How remarkable! The master’s fear gave him a saddle horse and us a rider. How remarkable! HIS fear makes of US slaves. H’m . . . But, is this so? Is this true? 
When a man fears something, he goes for help. He hurries to his neighbors and calls on them to help him overcome his fears—he gets his gang. That is organization. He has organized power and he no longer fears. The master feared and organized power, and uses organized power to enslave you. Your fear has nothing to do with your slavery. Your failure to organize, to go after help, is the sole cause of your slavery. Thus, you see, fear doesn’t make slaves of us. That is proven. 
Now we will prove that it does enslave you. You fear — that’s proven — you’re afraid to organize!! With organization you could drive your fears away. Yet, you dassent organize. You’re in a heluva fix. 
Every living man, except the fool, fears. Your master throws you in the can only for two reasons. First, because he fears you; second, because he is afraid of you. 
Yet you fear him so that you dassent organize, to dispel your fears. 
He organized, when HE got scairt! 
He fears you still . . . and still organized. 
Organization quiets fears, (antidote). 
Organization will free us— not from fears, but from riders. We will still be “fearers” long after our masters have decided to stand on their own legs. — (T-Bone Slim). 
P. S. The real reason why we are “rode” is not fear; is not ignorance, save on one point and that point is: we have not been informed sufficiently on the value of an organization as a medium whereby timid men can unhorse a timid rider from their backs. 
Now we will prove that we are not timid: The trenches over in France— during business hours—were occupied by labor and sons of labor. Where machine gun bullets s’spit, z’zip; yes indeed, River Rogue, Michigan, was a good deal safer place. Our masters never saw those trenches until next spring. Yes, we have the bravery! Yes, we have the intelligence! Yes, we have the numbers! 
What more do you want? Do you want to take “advantage” of him completely? Organize those three things aforesaid — and the world will smile!