• Author: Unknown
• Editor: B-6591
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 2
• Page Number:
• Date: 6 25 1913
• Tags:
• joke
• racist
• inside joke
• gossip

SAID TO BE FUNNY Let us be thankful for occasional visits from the man who sees the funny side of things. A typical Southern darkey, making his first venture into the life of a "hobo," approached the front door of a splendid country mansion, in which was standing the master of the house, and his little four year-old boy, and pitifully asked for something to eat. "What?" thundered the old gentleman as he reached for his shot gun. "Hold on Pop,'' said the little fellow, "You done killed six niggers, lemme kill this one." The negro fled. When Jingles was a cub reporter, one of the first principles instilled in him was obedience to instructions, for which he must always wait, before taking his own initiative. This he did invariably. One night there was a fire and no experienced man in the office to cover it, so Jingles had his chance, and was hustled off to report the blaze. Several hours elapsed; the paper was waiting to go to press, and not a word from Jingles about the fire. Finally the phone rang and was answered by the City Editor. It was Jingles, crying, "I'm waitin' for instructions; what'll I do about the fire?" "Do,'' yelled the maddened Editor, "do" why, find the hottest part of it, and jump in.'' Jingles did so, and that fire has left its crimson impress upon his head to this day, to prove the verity of the story. George, the exercise runner, says that these summer mornings are the real thing, but, they get up too early. Watermelons are quoted at 80c to $1 each. This information was gathered for our subscribers on the first Block. There is absolutely no truth in the rumor that the managership of the Library team, was sold for a half-pound and three gravy rolls. "Wouldn't it be nice, if you had a cow here, so that the men could have good fresh milk every day,'' said a lady visitor last week ‘‘Fine,'' said Mr. B., ‘if-we only had a burglarproof safe to keep her in.'' 0952 started out one day last week, with a package of chicklets and a barrel of gall. In an hour he returned with half-pound ‘‘shorts,'' five tins of Sen a picture frame, an alarm clock and the gall. No wonder society is clamoring for protection. "I just blew two-bits for a toot'brush,'' boasted Blink. ‘‘Gimme yer old 'un,'' said Wink. "Naw, I'm gonna use dat fer a shoe brush."Stout Lady: Would you mind opening the window? It is rather close. Gentleman: Certainly not (complies.) Thin Lady (After a few moments) : Beg pardon, but would you mind closing that window. It is cooling us off rather rapidly. Gentleman : Certainly not (closes window.) Stout Lady (after a few more moments): Sorry to trouble you again, sir, but really it is stifling here. Thin Lady: You'll oblige me by not opening that window. Stout Lady (turning to thin lady): You do not like air? Thin Lady: I am, on the contrary, fond of air. Fresh air is necessary. But I cannot endure sudden changes. Gentleman (to thin lady): Here is my coat, madam. You might wrap it around you while we open the window. Thin Lady (drawing herself up stiffly): Thank you, no! Stout Lady: I shall die without air. I am beginning to feel faint. You must open that window. Thin Lady: You must not open it. Gentleman: Will you permit me to open that window for just a moment, madam? (to thin lady). Thin Lady (her voice growing higher); And after that, what? Gentleman: After that you can settle the question between yourselves. I am only going to jump out of it. —Life. Joseph Evergreen Ryan, of Chicago, has a friend in the priesthood who has a keen sense of humor. The priest told Ryan about a christening at which he officiated a short time ago. The christening party consisted of a proud father, the baby—a girl—the grandfather and the rest of the folks. The grandfather stood nearest to the priest during the ceremony. "What's the child's name?" asked the priest of the grandfather at the appropriate moment. "I dunno,'' the grandfather replied. And he turned to the father and whispered hoarsely: ‘‘What's its name?" "Hazel," replied the father. "What?" asked the grandfather. "Hazel," repeated the father. The grandfather threw up his hands in disgust. "What d'ye think av that?'' he asked the priest. ‘‘With the calendar av the saints full av gur-rl names—an' him namin' his after a nut"'