Volume 2 — Whiz Bang Bunk
Reading edition
As you show so shall we peep.
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A shimmy dancer has to struggle for a living.
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Many a rough neck is hidden by a silk collar.
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Be it ever so homely there’s no face like your own.
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You can’t feather your nest running after chickens.
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Keeping whisky in your home is no crime—it’s an art.
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Never slap children on the face; Nature provides a more suitable place.
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Close the saloon and save the boys; close the garage and save the girls.
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Sign in dry goods store: “Our woolen underwear will tickle you to death.”
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A Shorthorn Bull
A man called for hair restorer at the drug store. The new clerk gave him something to apply. In the course of time the man returned with a complaint. He declared the stuff powerful enough for some purpose but not to grow hair. His head was as bald as ever but he was getting two big lumps like cocoanuts on the top. The clerk looked at the empty bottle and turned ghastly pale as he exclaimed “My Gawd, man, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I gave you bust developer.”
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Gosh All Hemlocks!
Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of a bucket of beer; Up the street and down the line, I’ve got the bucket; who’s got the dime?
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“What’s Sauce for the Goose”
A colored woman and her husband were conversing together when the latter happened to express curiosity as to the meaning of the word “propaganda” which he was constantly running across in the newspapers.
“Well,” said his wife, “ah is not sure, but ah thinks ah know what propaganda is. F’r instance, wif mah fust husband ah had one chile, and two wif mah second. You’re mah third husband an’ we hain’t got none at all. Now, I’m the propah goose, but you ain’t the propahganda.”