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Established by a shrewd village elder as insane and therefore a sacred oracle, Blettsworthy eagerly assumed the role which preserved him from the dinner-pot. It was an easy part, for everything he said sounded mad enough, concerning as it did another, and therefore impossible world. The elder, interpreting these mad oracular utterances as convenient, found his Sacred Lunatic a useful alternative for the tribal totems, miniature sloths, to whose whispered advices all unpopular policies were attributed. These wriggly, but sacred, little animals were distantly related to the race of Great Ground Sloths, evil-smelling Megatheria, who persisted though they...
...fair target for the critic of Coolidge Prosperity. Nominee Smith cited the average wage of textile workers, $17.30 per week, and contrasted it with an advertisement published in Boston by the G. O. P. The advertisement advertised that the G. O. P. had put "a chicken in every pot," had "filled the workingman's dinner pail and his gasoline tank besides and placed the whole nation in the silk-stocking class." Said Nominee Smith: "Now, just draw on your imagination for a moment and see if you can in your mind's eye picture a man at $17.30 a week...
...Hooverizer Hughes's remark last week in Chicago, that "the Democrats, to take Smith's tariff plan, will have to eat more crow than the Democratic stomach can stand," the Smith retort was: ''What a delicious pot of crow the Governor [Hughes] is compelled to witness his party eating on the Federal Reserve Bank system.'' Then he announced that all Democratic members of and candidates for Congress had been telegraphed and asked if they would stand by the Smith tariff declaration. Four-fifths of these Democrats had replied in the affirmative, "the other 20% being away on campaign tours." Then...
Bessie Cudlip facilitated his courtship of Miss Fosdick by dying (on the same day as Miss Spragg), and leaving him her money. For she, a hearty wench from the "Pot and Pie," had picked up Mr. Winnery, Sr., in Brighton, honeymooned with him in Paris, that glorified Brighton, and lavished money since his death on church-sociables and Sunday School picnics...
With the ascendancy of the Medicis, Nicolo lost his job, was accused of plotting against the new rulers, banished to his poverty-stricken country villa. Here he was reduced to the boorish society of the pot-house-backgammon and trie trac with butcher and furnace-makers replaced learned converse with the intellectuals of Florence. Though he filled much of his time with wine, women, and oaths, he was forced out of sheer boredom to pore long hours over his beloved Latin-history, comedy, philosophy (translated from the Greek)-and set down his own political philosophy (The Prince, The Discourses...