﻿“BY A HAIR”

An inconsistency:
‘Tis said there is no such thing as “CAN’T”––everything “CAN”––just “Try and try again.”
I believe it!
But civilization doesn’t believe it! The hangman’s noose and the electric “throne” go far to prove that Civilization believes it “CAN’T”, and follows the line of no resistance. And jails––are they a solution? Or, are they just a sample of Civilization’s delightful way of “passing the bunch?”
Heartily have I laughed over Civilization’s drowsy antics––she must not be bothered.
Is there so much difference between jailing, hanging, (lynching) electrocution and the old American Indian’s custom of lifting the scalp?––origin of present day custom of having one’s half-o’-one-per-cent-face lifted. True, the Redman wasn’t always a lifter: It has been recited, with great gusto, as how when the pale skins first came Noble John dropped on his belly and kissed the corns of the “new gods” (till he found out WHO they were) and got kicked in the nozzle for his pains; in dishing up mis-directed, superimposed reverance.––’Twas then John held a heap big pow-wow and reluctantly decided to hoist a few scalps in defense of old gods, wigwams and hunting grounds––so I was taught in school. 
Of course, hunting grounds may mean economic grounds; wigwam may mean “bread and butter,” and old gods may be a deep joke about freedom. We can’t say.
But white-man, instead of “lifting the scalp,” lifts his eyebrows and throws you in jail––how quaint! I wonder does he do that on economic grounds, for god and country?––Are his biscuits in danger?
 He ties a rope around your neck and spares you the pain of watching his future performances. He sits you in an electric chair and burns you, after the manner of micmicing the sanctified witch burners––a great improvement on being “toasted” on a stake.
Ah, gentlemen, the Civilized white men are great people––their culture includes all.
But did the Injun do right in picking scalps?

Shrinking Violets
Old fashioned girls used to point with pride, “I have nothing to wear.”
Now they don’t point; they simply live the part. (A sign of independence, I think––either that or contempt of escourt.)
The old fashioned girl, tho gifted, never used to “wear in public”––but Christ, how she could curse when unobserved
Now they use slang, “BANANNA”––carramba!––and are all in all less foul mouthed. (The second next issue of posterity should show a decided improvement over the past generations born of two-faced goddesses.)
What kind of girls has Slim been observing?––
I took them as they came: Old-fashioned, sheathe-gown, slit-skirt, bloomer-girl, hobble,skirt, trouser-queen and present day Quarter-Dress Flapper.” I glimpsed, too, the Bustle Girl (1885) but the Hoop Skirt Girl has been denied my soulful eyes.
The flapper is an improvement on all this. Straightforward and unbandaged––’twill never be said of her “She swears like a trooper”––as was said of her sisters ere they broke through the armor of hardshell convention.
Truth stings; I’m sorry ladies!
The old-fashioned girl, helpless,––could but weep and swear. Her only defense and compensation. Came a day when she resorted to poisons and fire arms. Now, they Organize!
Through their organization they can right all wrongs under which they may be suffering––even unto correcting miss-placed confidence. Lone girl can do nothing, but a “bunch of girls” can make any man back his signature.
Organization means more money in the envelope. Bigger paydays––shorter work-days.
Recently a New York newspaper conducted a poll among college men (kids and they rejected the flapper in favor of the old-fashioned girl.
Now, let me point out to these studes (dudes) that if they want an old-fashioned girl they’ll have to date up a mummy– not a mammy––because old fashioned girls do not exist. Their vision of “the baker,” washerwoman, tailor, (seemstress) cook, is an illusion––”Bond” bakes the bread, laundries wash the clothes, cafeterias cook the food, Hart-Marx and Shafner sells the clothes. Sox are no longer washed under a water-fawcett––except in Princeton.
Nicholas Murray Butler: Send those kids back to grammar school.
And Kids: If you feel you can’t afford to live in “accepted” style, don’t commit suicide, don’t lean on the ladies––wait till you get sense––then join the I. W. W. 
You’d be surprised what a little organization will do.
T.b S.