Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 51 “What do you think of these nifty two-for-a-quarter cigars?” ‘‘You must have gotten the twenty cent one.” Rural Autoist: “I want some tires.” Automobile Salesman: ‘‘Balloon tirek?” R.A.: “No, automobile tires.” % Our idea of a tactful hostess is a lady who, when a guest knocks b over a salt ce llar, kicks the legs from under the table and jerks the chandelier out of the ceiling to keep the offender from feeling em¬ barrassed. - Modern Surgeon: “How’s the patient with the mule gland opera¬ tion this morning?” Nurse: “Not so well, sir; he kicked himself unconscious last night.” ' She: “But I thought this place was always crowded.” He: “It usually is, between seven and eight, but I believe in coming late to avoid the rush that comes early to avoid the rush.” “Well, come down tomorrow morning and I’ll put you to work.” “Tomorrow? I couldn’t possibly come until the day after,” “Why?” “Why, tomorrow I must take part in the great demonstration of protest of the unemployed.” Judge: “What’s the charge against this man, officer?” Cop: “Arson, Your Honor; burning up the road.” He sold his brain to a research laboratory, but he fooled them; he didn’t have any brain. • • • “I have a breaking out all over my face.” “Rash?” “No, beard.” • Mendicant: “I am really an author—I once wrote a book called the “One Hundred Ways to Earn Money.” Gentleman: “Then why are you begging?” Mendicant: “That’s one of the hundred ways. ” “Three weeks ago I couldn’t play a note.” “Well?” “Now I can play one note.”

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50 D. M. C. I. BREEZES’ Mussolini has at last established the truth of an old saying—the king can do no wrong. (He hasn’t got a chance.) An arm protruding from the side of a machine ahead signfies any one of the following things: The motorist is (1) knocking ashes off his cigarette, (2) going to turn to the left, (3) warning a small boy to shut up, (4) going to turn to the right, (5) pointing to the scenery, (6) going to back up, (7) feeling for rain, (8) telling the wife he is sure the front door is locked, (9) going to stop, (10) hailing a friend in a passing car. Oxford: “The Prince of Wales has a new horse—‘Dandruff.’ ” Cambridge: “Why do they call (7) -77 9 7 him Dandruff?” o(ja ujLC [(VC, Oxford: “Because he makes the heir fall.” Mr. Murphy: “Use the name ‘Lon Chaney’ in a sentence.” Snusher: “As I’m not particular where I eat, I ’ll Lon Chaney where you want.” A woman’s aim is usually at her husband. If the late Mr. Burbank had tried crossing the cabbage and the asparagus, he might have evolved a ready-made cigar. A northern railway contractor recently advertised for 250 sleep¬ ers. A very fed-up clergyman of¬ fered his entire congregation at a knockout price. “My boy, think of the future.” “I can’t; it’s my girl’s birthday and I must think of the present.” i Saw one man speeding to get the latest model home before it became obsolete. Man in elevator: “Fourth floor, please.” Operator: “Here you are, son.” Man in elevator: “How dare you call me son? You’re not my father.” Operator: “Well, I brought you up, didn’t I?” ’ ' » “I bought a new model loud speaker yesterday.” “Yell. What hoarse power?”

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52 D. M. C. r. BREEZES “You may be a boon to your mother, but you look like a baboon to me.” Summer Boarder: “But why are those trees bending over so far?” Farmer: “You would bend over too, miss, if you was as full of green apples as those trees are.” Null: “I started out on the theory that the world had an opening for me.” Void: “And you found it?” Null: “Well, rather. I’m in the hole now.” Farmer: “If I were as lazy as you, I’d go and hang myself in my barn.” Hobo: “No, you wouldn’t. If you were as lazy as I you wouldn’t have any barn.” Wife: “I took this recipe for this cake out of the cook book.” Husband: “You did perfectly right. It should never have been put in.” Authorities rule that the child of two Canadians born in China is Chinese. From this is might be argued that a youngster born on an ocean liner is a row-boat. But the impression hitherto has been that a baby born at sea is either a gull or a buoy. Dumbelle: “Can I have some talcum powder?” Ditto: “Mennen’s?” Dumbelle: “No, vimmen’s.” Ditto: “Scented?” Dumbelle: “No, I vill take it mit me.” The French revolution was won violently, not by “freedom slowly broadening down from President to President,” as Tennyson wrote. Goodbye! The words echo with a dull finality in our ears. Grad¬ uation is here, our school days are over. Was it not only yesterday we entered these halls, quaking primaries, infants they called us? But no! across the pages of memory three years have been written. Three years! One-twentieth of a lifetime! Have we profited by them? Who can say? The future hugs the secret to its breast, Can you not see us? Poor little ones that we were, entering the school boldly yet timidly, obeying the laws of the institution. Then juniors, more confident, yet not daring too much. And now? Seniors they say. In lessons, perhaps, but what of the school of life? Once more we are but unconfident infants. Shall we ever become seniors? Only the deep, dark, immense ocean of time can tell. —Isabel Craig, Room 53, S.C.