﻿T-BONE SLIM DISCUSSES MAKESHIFTS— 
 
“MAN DIES OF TETANUS.” — I wonder if he swallowed the ship by mistake. 

Mussolini I cannot understand! 
Groomed, in the Italian press, less than our own Walton of Oklahoma was in our press, much less than Mitchell, barely mentioned compared to Butler, to say nothing about Gen. Wood—yet he was given full swing, for better or worse, over the destiny of the Italians. 
I can’t figure it out—but I’m figuring. 

The twelve-mile limit on high seas is but formality as protection for our dry-land moonshiners—I would suggest that a Chinese Wall be put on the waterfront to commemorate the able statesmen that voted us dry; incidentally, prevent our prone juice and raisin-jack from disturbing the world liquor market.—  

California has a mysterious drawing power. 
We read where a banker “goes south” with the money. Is captured. Where? California. 
We read further, prisoner comes out of pen in a barrel of hot ashes. Gets away. Is captured. Where? For God’s sake— California. Etc. 

It is being charged that Spring is late in “putting in” appearance. 
Here it is—May the First—and no flies and mosquitos! 
The evidence is very conclusive and clear. The charge is sustained. Spring is late. 

We hope that the French Briand to whom the French carpenter sent a 1,000-franc note had no warning beforehand that the money was coming and that the coming of it would go a long way to convince the French (and us irritated Americans) that his wages, $3,225 Are Too Low. 

“The plasterers of Chicago are demanding $70 for a five-day week.”—”That is one of the reasons the farmers are so restless.”—Shelbyville (Ind.) Republican. 
“WELL! If it’s making farmer restless, something certainly ‘out’ to be done about it” —Phila. Ing. 
Restless is right! They’ve moved into Chicago and are now demanding “the $70.”—Give it to ‘em—before they move again!—T-b. S. 
Rents in Chicago for suitable places to live in are $140— $240 per month. Whadyer expect a plasterer to do, live in a bam! 
Then again a plasterer’s work is unsteady. Do you expect them is oblige by starving between jobs! 
You expect too much. 
The French Briand is getting $268 per month, steady year ‘round — whether he works or not. And he doesn’t have to contend with the eight tent carfare—neither does the plasteer for that matter, not having the money. He walks, and carries his box of plaster brushes under his arm. (How about it, Sheridan?) 
“Yes,” you say, “but the rents are high in Chicago because the builders get such high wages.” 
Here’s where we differ. The rents already are high, whereas the builders have only just now put in their demands. You couldn’t blame the high rent on a thing that is yet to come. 
The cause always travels ahead of result—and the result is the demand for $70 per five-day week. . . . 
The five-day week is the first rational thing I’ve ever heard plasterers mention. 

Tact. 
When buying Cod Liver Oil, do not “leave it to the druggist” (Dr. Uggist) to pick out the kind you want—he’ll give you the kind he can’t sell. Ask him to mention the names—then pick one out yourself—that way you have a gambler’s chance, at least. Use tact. 
Same way with your unionism. Don’t let the boss pick out a union for you—he’s liable to have you hooked up to a conglomeration of disunited units. Awefull! 
Ask him to recite the names of the unions, and then pick out the one he doesn’t mention—that way you stand a show of winning the pot. 

This is Mr. Hiram Plute speaking; hello—hello—yes—allright—did you telephone down to the union hall to find out if there’s any men hanging around there——yes——hello . . . . (buzz) HELLO!—Hell—Oh!— Dammit I’m disconnected! —— 
(The wires couldn’t stand it). 
‘Stoo bad! No doubt he was just on the verge of “shooting over” a raise in pay. . . .