﻿Stale Snuff Brings Thoughts Of Love and War 
By T-BONE SLIM 
 
It’s terrible! No more fresh snuff in the United States of America. Why, it’s almost as bad as when we had no flag. What do they mean in Washington for not putting fresh snuff on the market? Is there no escape? Are we to perish. Must another Betsy Ross be born to cook up a mess of fresh snuff? I pause for an answer. 

The IWW never had to put forth all its intelligence but whenever it began to unlimber its vast acumen miracles occured— and still carry oh. 
I will say for the editor: no part of the country is in bad grace and although activities are not uniform, he knows the ferments are there and will register at any proper moment in no unmistakable manner. 
I am happy to see J. P. Thompson putting the sand blast on the house of lords. 

Love takes many forms, even in as fresh a country as our own. Years ago humans put out their hands to show they carried no knife. Later on affections consisted of stealing a man’s horse or collegiate bearskins, etc. 
Love of God, still later, made up for cutting a neighbor’s throat. And still it was LOVE and is today. Abuse of dog, cat, horse or child was love. Love carried on and eventually it burst forth in full flower—striptease and true confessions. 
Do the best you can, Butch. 
Today. Japan is blasting the living Jesus out of China. All in the name of love. 

King of England hath arrived in this continent to gaze al his broad acres and loyal subjects. The mere fact that we took this country away from the Indians (for a song and dance) doesn’t make the royal pair blush. 
But we should not criticize too severely —paper is not conscious of the woolly yarns the printing press imparts, and the news itself is drawn and quartered. So I would opine that when a ruling house goes on an excursion or visiting in the midst of a crisis, the crisis is a fake. 
Our own generals have been pounding their cheats pretty heavy and we have been stampeded into dishing up a few truck-loads of “what it takes.” A top-heavy society and Caesars are all dead. 
Dorothy Thompson (God bless her) has . . . “a time of grave international danger,” darn the luck, gravestones costing what they do, and the European paupers are simply determined to fight—they’ve got fightamins ABCD and X, and love apples are costing 19 cents a pound. 

. . . ‘N’ USA is building (according to press reports) warships to protect all lands in Western Hemisphere from Patagonia to Hudson Bay—against what? Against delusion —a miracle—for in the extent that one poorhouse gains ascendency, the others combine and the merry war continues indefinitely. Beware. 
Foreign trade amounts to small peanuts (not counting old business and hysteria over it is not worthy object—the whole thing doesn’t affect over 500,000 men out of 15,000,000 unemployed. What difference does it make whether 14½ million suffer or 15 million suffer? 
War in Europe on a gran scale is a long way off and may not materialize at all (the drive may go stale or a thousand things may intervene to denecessitate.) 
Britain’s far-flung investments that put Britons on a dole are at long last coming home to roost and rolled-oats, the well-known substitute for boiled-beef, is just around the corner. Same holds true to our industrial kings and their investments abroad— they are untenable even so as home investments were untenable under the then popular percentage of distribution of profits. Reference to this can be found in the Bible: “There shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.” (Not many have teeth but all have wails). 
‘Tis an economic war—and getting more familiar every day. Chain store empires are outlawed by law of limitations. 

Ho, hum. It is my opinion that even as the “communist threat” (which General Moseley was to demolish was a straw man: so, too Moseley’s “threat” was straw of purest ray serene. Biscuits hang high and Dies committee itself runs heavily to great Americas grandstand—brass band —but all is well along the Potomac and only 15,000,000 are allee samee unemployed.