Juniors Chisel On Reserved Tradition In Beardy Battle; Hair Tonic Sales Soaring

By DALE JONES

A few days ago Ethiopia snuck across the border and smeared Italy for a slight loss. Mussolini got an injured pride and a headache out of the whole affair. But that doesn't bother us.

Years and years ago Washington pulled a honey. One Christmas night he slithered across some dinky creek, and captured a whole gang of Hessians who were indulging in a bit of a holiday splurge. Washington injured their pride—the Hessions supplied their own headaches the morning after. Nothing much for us to worry about there, either.

But out of these small affairs pregnant ideas are born—born to wander aimlessly about looking for a place to light. And now it's time to worry.

Last week just such an idea found fertile soil in the itching beard of an ingenuous junior. Conspiracy followed, and one fine morn the senior class awoke to find that their place as "masters of the beard" had been disregarded, molested, and almost usurped. The juniors were going to hold a mustach growing contest. Holy horrors! (Enter the injured pride and the headaches[.])

Chairmen Pull Hair

Senior Jim McGuire and Junior Ferron Losee, rival chairmen in the coming whisker - mustache marathons, got together to pull each others beard, and the smoke of battle hung lower than an ant's instep

["]Infidel!" shouted McGuire[.] "You can't do that. Beard contests are sacred Senior traditions."

Losee flicked a stray speck of powder off McGuire's lapel[.] (It was the only blow struck) In eloquent silence he massaged his upper lip with hair tonic. The conference was a flop.

. . .