﻿Mere Wishing Won’t Free Us From Slavery 
By T-BONE SLIM 
 
Ah me! 
Vitimin G may be all right but auto manufacturers seem to prefer vitimins COB and FOB. 
Damsel in distress . . . 
“Polish woman tennis star, Jadwiga Jedrzejowska has been compelled to turn waitress because of poverty.” 
Itsn’t it hell! 
“She is now working in a Wasaw restaurant where her fellow workers include Ignacy Tloczinski, a Davis cup player, and Janusz Kuscocinski, distance runner.” News. 
Dammit, if this isn’t precisely what happened to the American Beauty Rose in our marble-topped goulash joints. 
However if the Wall Street boys were not so heavy of foot the tennis stars and distance runners would soon get real competition slinging hash. It’s no disgrace—why it’s a catastrophe to lay down one racket only to pick up another one. I pretend to see Hitler’s ruthless hand in this, and part of the elbow. 
And I know, if I were Chamberlain, I would definitely shake an umbrella at him and bring him back to his senses and fear of God. 

Short weight and overcharging keeps a couple hundred New York City butchers out of immediate poorhouse—mebbe. 
They were fined 2—5—10 dollars despite the faet they had very ingenious excuses. 
“Glasses were all steamed up so naturally the scales showed up two ounces short.” 
One godfearing butcher tried to leave the impression his scale works like a seismograph and he has to keep an 8-ounce piece of lead wrapped in paper so as to steady the scale’s nerves.” 
Honest men all, and honest mistakes. 
Thanksgiving to Christmas 
The assumption was that the American freeholder can’t get a turkey in 25 days. Low-rating our illustrious American, ingenuity and enterprise that-a-way should not be countenanced —why, dammit, if I didn’t have water on the knee , . . It’ll still cost him the election, sure. As I was going to say, in that time I’d guarantee to barbecue an ostrich and dig the pit myself. 

Patriotism was returned to the United States, but what the hell is it going to live no? 

No lost time in the late Chrysler strike. It isn’t a year-around job. Dealers had not sold out all the pre-strike cars. The strike served as a lay-off to good purpose. 
Cease your tears, my dears. 

Hitler was kind enough to withdraw all claim to the front page on the fatal day of Russian jitters, November 30; the day when the disintegration of communist distatorship over Russian workers began. 
Japan, of course, was too big o f a contract for Russia’s 180,000,000 people to handle so she had to select “some one her size”—Finland, with a population of 3,600,000. 
The bluff is still strong and Russia believes on the strength of a few American cream separators she will be able to over-run Europe. 
I smoked just one pipeful of Prince Albert and, you know, my B. O. disappeared as if by magic. (I hope I didn’t get the advertisements in the comic sheet mixed—heluva note if I had smoked a pipe of Life Bouy soap.) 
Anyhow, I stink less, 

Keep the boys on the payroll and keep ‘em out of mischief. Torrent of words sometimes corners even ye astute senator. Sayeth Vandenberg; “Sound public credit is the greatest defense necessity of all.” 
There are at least two greater: 
Gash in the public pocket and porkchops on the unemployed table. 
Porkless unemployed make poor patriots and cashless public surrenders without a struggle. Then we are in the hole $40,000,000,000 plus; engineered by business and industrial management. 
Not that an empty stomach isn’t worth defending. 

By way of meaning no harm, St. Petersburg (Leningrad) and much of the surrounding territory onec belonged to Finland. Even today Finns call it “Pietari”; as they do Finland “Suomi.” Petersburg was built on “made” ground before the days of the “fresno.” 
The history of that neck of the woods isn’t so hot. 
Finland is probably the most scenic outing resort in the world—”land o’ thousand lakes.” Sibelius is its prophet. 

My lords want other people’s land because they are “afraid” (it’s their say-so) “if we don’t take it, some one else will.” 
How familiar that sounds. Our exploiters have the same attitude: “Labor is in the hands of a low of thieves and I may as well rob him as the next; and, if I don’t, some one has the jump on me and puts me in a poorhouse.” 
They’re afraid —lost their nerve completely — that’s why they skin us. 
How well they know one another! 
But isn’t it a bit uncomfortable to belong to a party of thieves without honor—pals you cannot trust, even as they eannot trust you? Mebbe your system has a serious defect? Who can say? 
Labor, of course, expects a square deal from those birds—carfare home. Let us not build hopes on the early demise of this system. It will last a long, long time. No victories whatsoever on the battle fields can alter it but for the worse. 
It will last until you, Mr. Labor, signify in no uncertain terms that you are sick and tired of it.