New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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Fy0'fDG'WO0V5GWQfbCNwlDGNOVbGWOVb3'OfbGWQfDCWOf5CNMl5jK gi The Future Inferno XQJWNDQJWKDQIWKDQIWNDQJWKDQJONDQAWNBQJQNDQJWNDCJWA AM not mad I tell you. Don't stare at me that way. ft7s no mere disease of the brain. I have seen it--that awful eruption-the fires of death-the shrieking furies. That spectacle is no delusion-I could see- feel it-it haunts me-does not leave me. You see I'm not an idiot-not crazy -it was the promise of the future-the Future Inferno. It was quite warm, and a holiday besides, and naturally the parks and streets were crowded. Having shed my topcoat, I strolled along and finally sat down on an unoccupied bench in a little park. The soft, green foliage overhead hid the burning sun. The little children, rosy-cheeked and happy, gamboled and frolicked on the grass at my feet. I felt gloomy, morose and out of sorts. The bright sunshine, the happy children, the happy world- all this jarred on my nerves. I picked up a newspaper. I noticed an article Written by an eminent scientist concerning the Solar System's rapid aproach to the nebulae-the End had come. Thump, thump, thump-and lifeless bodies dropped to the ground. The hordes were all traveling-none standing still. But there was no escape-all were doomed-rich man, poor man, beggar, em- peror. Fire, Hell's fires had broken out-all the world was burning-a huge funeral pyre. And then the wind. The fear lessened, became less oppressive-but the wind, was no mere wind-it was a wall-no it was not a wall-it was a universe tumbling into eternity. My heart was bursting-the influx of air was too great for it. I tried to shout, to scream-The Calamity had happened- all was lost in the turmoil-the death struggle of a gigantic world with a nat- ural force. I was being torn apart, asunder. I was going-going-going. Witli a shriek I awoke. I'm not mad, it was true. It was no idle fancy, I lived, it was true, too true, the inevitable truth-The Future Inferno. it if I TALK TO YOU All day long, and sometimes far into the night, I talk to people-endless streams of them, XVQ talk of this and that . . . and sometimes of that and this D , And yet-I tell them nothing of myself. Then for a brief space of time, A snatched moment fraught with sullen fear, I talk to you . . . But-I say so much, So much of what is me- That oft I fear, someday, There will be nothing left to say. . . Sixteen

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tithe Qlumet A the bilge rat? I'll show him, an' he swings the wrench over his head H1141 with a mighty crash brings it downin exactly the same spot where he hit be- fore. IVell, there's a big explosion, and we both get knocked out cool. IVhen I open my eyes, all I can see is the blue sky, an, 1'CII1CI11bCI'l117 where I was last, I think I'm dead, until Driscoll pokes his face into mine. VVell, I get up off the deck where 1,111 layin' and find out that Ilm on the old Snooty Rose-but on top of the ocean instead of under it! IIow'd it happen? I asks the looey. IVell, he says, if it wasn,t for the way your friend MeOool has of throwin' wrenches we'd be down there yet. VVhen he hit that wheel before, he fixed it so we couldn't empty the tanks. But when he slammed it the second time, he snapped the handle off, and blew every drop of water out of those same damned tanks ! 'Goofyj -they call him H 'Lucky' that's what I'd say. ...,.1gy.945-4... The Eternal Play Jaques. All the wor1d's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exists and their entrances ...................... AS YOU LIKE IT CAct II Sc. VIIJ A vast setting! A great east! The act keeps going, no one7s the last. A player drops out, another appears. This play does not end, after so many years. The setting is never discarded for new, Though the changes, time makes, are not very few. How many spectators watch this great show? There is only one of Whom I know. The Audience, Producer, and Oritic is One, He 's managed the players since Time has begun. To enter or leave, one waits for his cues. One can not decide to accord or refuse. Both comedies and tragedies together appear On this wonderful stage, year after year. Fifteen

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.1-fd ,f .H fills ne passeront pas, translated to 'tThey shall not pass . There is now a controversy as to who said this-General Joffre-or the New Utrecht faculty. Police Commissioner Xllhalen lnvades New Utrecht! A police booth has been planted at the far side of our field. Step a little faster, you Service Squaddersl HAH right, welll play with a half deck then ln This is just another session of our Bridge Club, which holds meetings every Thursday in the Girl's Lunchroom after the 7th and Sth. The officers are:-David Cohn, President, Sylvia Sennet, Vice-President, and Herbert Glasser, Secretary. If it isn't one, it's the other. Madison beat us at football and then bas- ketball, but our Tongue Team beat them in a thrilling debate! Vtlhatis the matter? We ask you! He holds the gun in his hand, a look of sincere determination crossing his flushed countenance. His body is rigid and tense. He contemplates for a moment-then quickly he raises the pistol-slowly, steadily he draws the trig- ger. His body relaxes. Barney Hyman resumes his seat. The 100 yard dash had begun! There is the crunch of hard, tough bodies colliding ..,. Edgar plunges through-surges forward .... Yes, we were at the Senior Prom, and have come to the conclusion that Edgar is an excellent football player. The Latin Pony is fast fading. A translation of the poems of Robert Browning is much more fashionable-not to say usefull Ask for a Brownie. 9? ii: A history student 's dreams come true! In one of the review sheets is- sued by Mr. L-v-ne lately, one of the mimcographed questions read as follows: cuss the Federal Reserve Systemf' VVe wonder if the students gave vent to their feelings. Seventeen, mtg