﻿Note:— 
T-bone Slim has gone out of circulation—he is retired into a convent to write a play for the working class—one of those pathetic plays, drama, where you laugh and promptly wish you hadn’t—its name is “Uplifters” and among these following are the left-overs therefrom.  
The play should be on the boards at an early date—start saving ticket money.  
Angry Law Gets Angry 
Press reports “a Russian lady was to be shot for stealing grain . . .” 
This would indicate conditions are not so good; in addition to showing punishment of a striking nature.— 
Nothing like that could happen in our fair and unhappy land—our millionaires have been getting theirs that way all their lives without anybody thinking of shooting ‘em.  

Democracy a failure? 
Now, mind you, I’m not saying it isn’t but I cannot seem to remember where it was tried—and when. To my poor old erudition, democarcy always was a distant vista—a desert mirage—Ole Garchy always sat at the saddle and, if any failure, he should so be credited—why blame the pure, innocent and absentee democracy for Ole’s omniscience.  

I thought I was about to die––o, but I was sick! I thought so till I happened to grab hold of an oaken railroad tie, water-soaked. 
Imagine my surprise when that tie came along with me to the jungle fire.  
Now it is my contention, a man cannot be very close to death who can pack as much as an ordinary section gang . . . mebbe, editor, you better put the death notice in the lead.––make it strong. 
“Dammit! I went and bought coffe-an and forgot I was to get a box of snuff today.” (Ordinarily, editor, this crack is an opening line). He says further, “Oh well, deny me tobacco if you will, I’ll light a butt: shoot snipes and conserve the nation’s resources, but I’ll tell you frankly, druggist, a nation whose resources are cigarette butts ain’t worth the powder to blow it to hell.” 
“Heluva lot of people think the same way,” returned the druggist, suavely. 
“The dame way? What do you mean, the same way, they don’t think at all! They wish.” 

Employers of labor are not taking any lip from working men. All advice “how to run the industries” is frowned upon. It seems labor has no say-so in production. He must keep shut-up or get out––or confine his remarks to weather, women or waffles. 
Yet they are supposed to be brothers? Employers of labor run “the works” to sit themselves, and nobody else. 
But it happens they extract, subtract, deduct from labor’s pay envelop “the cost” of running the plant, plus the cost of maintenance of themselves (and others) and the wherewithal which constitutes their fortunes and squanderings––in this they are sole judge and labor is supposed to keep a tight lip. 
Allright, the subtraction from labor’s envelop of a part of the values produced amounts perilously near confiscation and sets a very bad example. Be that as it may, the danger lies in the fact that voiceless and undiplomatic labor may misconstrue it taxation without representation.