﻿PEACE BE “MIT” 
 
Strange, there is no world-war going on among the Christian nations and brethern! 
Every morning, nowadays, personally. I’m getting up hostile—dander sticking up like goose pimples on a scared patriot. 
But the chances for general carnage are few — though not small. About the only chance for a little blood-letting diversion is in the hands of Brother Mussolini—Pope and Jehova, of course. 
Do you call me a liar? 
Brother, comrade, Mussolini is “getting by,” ain’t he? 
“What is he putting out?” is the All-American question of all Americans. 
“How much?” by hecklers, abrupt. 
“How?” gurgles the “Injun.” 

SOME VIEWS  
In the opinion of an American magazine writer (editor) “American writers haw no superiors in Europe.” 
Of course not! 
Not even the versatile writers “wot looks after the Souvereign Georgie.” 
All our writers are in the first division, modestly led by T-bone Slim. 
Then a long stretch of no writers at all. One would almost suspect that Europe is not taking part in the parade! 
Finally, after a wait, wot seems like ages, along comes n European writer—and he’s an African Negro—with sore fbet. 
Our writers, editors, lead the procession—that is, lead the profession. 
As to where, I cannot say—but WE lead. Reader: You didn’t READ that right ! Strike an attitude! Swing your eyes distainfully! Let your voice quaver hysterically; and road victoriously: WE LEAD!! 
The band now will brass a few National Airs. 

What gets my goat is the lack of advertizements in the comic sheets—that is, on the comic page of the comic sheets. Not even Camels is mentioned; or Bissel’s Carpet Sweepers; or Talcum’s Powder. 
What’s the matter with running an ad of Tooth Paste on our bed sheet? It would help to pay laundry bills! 

And what’s the matter with cutting the sheets of the Sunday Advertisements Six Feet Long so that a Citizen could use it for a lounge while reading Hood’s Almana and Dr. Pierce’s Calendar? 
I pause for answers. 

While pausing for answer I’ll continue my remarks and suggest that the great untamed and unterrified American reader has been starved out with headlines—and unless something is soon done the reader will bedone for. And that means just one thing: 
H E A D - S T O N E S ! 
The difference between the “best families” and the worst families is so slight that unless one is very, very careful he is apt to mistake one for t’other; only to discover too late that he was wrong when he should have been right; that the best was the worst and the worst was superior. They’re like twins. 
One is an angel in the morning—devilish in the evening. 
The other is quarrelsome at daybreak—and saintly in twilight. 
All in all the best families are a close second-worst, and the worst families are a start in the right direction. 
But look it where we’ve got to go! 
Whew! 
No one is “lone best” at all times! 
You should see us at our worst—and, if it wasn’t for the beneficient effect of our ruthless editors, (that kind of causes us to shrink — in our own estimation) I would walk right out the front page and show it to you. 

Heywood Broun did not say “a horse is not intelligent.” What he said was: 
“Never within my own experience have I come across any particular intelligent piece of conduct by a horse.” 
Depends upon what is intelligence, and how many horses did Heywood “come across”—and what “trucks” does Broun boost. Personally, I’ve been driver of intelligent horses, only—the crazier the more highly intelligent.  
Juggy horses, too, may be intelligent; if so—their intelligence is suppressed. 

We behold where one Mr. McKinley, of the souvenir State of Illinois, was elected to stay home during the next session of Congress. That causes us to wonder if President Calvin Coolidge, of the United States of America will recognize Mac’s sterling worth and send him as an embassador to the Court of Jeems. 
The most important study for schoolchildren is “play.” 
Not play that lags or grows monotonous, but play that is enlivened, recharged from time to time by experts with initiative. . . The all-important study for grownups is: Hold your temper—an easy job if your play in childhood has suffered no crop failure. Join the I. W. W.—we need you.