Monday, November 07, 2016

The Indiana Sage and The Donald

Didja ever hear of George Ade? I thought not.

I'd first heard of him late one night with my crystal radio that was clipped to the bedframe and operated without batteries. I was listening to Shep on WOR, which had a transmitter of such god awful power you could get it through the fillings in your teeth.

George Ade was a loyal son of Kentland, Indiana and a Purdue Boilermaker who wrote for the Chicago papers and many of his stories are couched as  "fables" wherein he poked gentle fun at a lot of issues of the day.

One of his Fables in Slang is remarkable for its prescience today on this election eve, and it is called

The Fable Of The Caddy Who Hurt His Head While Thinking.

Herewith is the entire document complete in all its parts.

ONE day a Caddy sat in the Long Grass near  the Ninth Hole and wondered if he had a Soul. His number was 27 and he had almost forgotten his Real Name.

As he sat and Meditated two Players passed him. They were going the Long Round, and the Frenzy was upon them.

They followed the Gutta-Percha Balls with the intent swiftness of trained Bird-Dogs and eachtalked feverishly of Brassy Lies, and getting past the Bunker, and Lofting to the Green, and Slicing into the Bramble-each telling hos own Game to the Ambient Air, and ignoring what the other Fellow had to say.

As they did the St. Andrews Full Swing for eighty Yards apiece and then Followed Through with the usual Explanations of how it Happened, the Caddy looked t\at them and Reflected that they were much inferior to his Father.

His Father was too Serious a Man to get out in Mardi Gras Clothes and hammer a bBall from one Red flag to another.

His Father worked in a Lumber Yard.

He was an Earnest Citizen who seldom Smiled, and he knew all about the Silver Question and how J. Pierpont Morgan done up a Free People on the Bond Issue.

The Caddy wondered why it was that his Father, a really Great Man, had to shove lumber all day and could seldom get one Dollar to rub against another  while these superficial Johnnies who played Golf all the time had Money to Throw at the Birds. The more he Thought, the more his Head ached.

MORAL: Don't try to account for anything.
























 

 


 




 

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