Parade

Parade

How to cure male moochers

June 8 1957
Parade

Parade

How to cure male moochers

June 8 1957

Parade

How to cure male moochers

When the spring suiffles struck a Saskatoon steno she set a box of tissues within reach on the corner of her desk, but it turned out to be within reach of every man in the office as they passed by and everybody else had the sniffles, too. After she got tired saying, “Be my guest,” to everyone from the boss to the office boy, and after the box dwindled to nothing in

two days, she went right out and bought herself a fresh box—but this time she bought the colored ones, in a pale pink. The fellows wouldn't touch them.

ÚO AHEAP ypv^LL

* * *

As some kind of a footnote to the report of the Fowler commission on broadcasting and the endless companion debate on the state of Canadian culture, comes this dispatch from the B. C. interior. Local radio stations (independents) never carry the Saturday afternoon opera performances that originate in New York, but Okanagan opera lovers are a determined sort. At least, two of them are—a fellow and his wife who all opera season packed a lunch every Saturday and drove their panel truck twenty-six miles to Oliver where there is a booster station for C'BUT Vancouver. Even the booster doesn’t penetrate the mountain baffles from Oliver to Penticton, but if you park in the peace and quiet of the deserted Oliver ball park, practically within sight of the station, it comes in fine while you sit back and munch your sandwiches and enjoy grand opera in complete relaxation—in the front of a panel truck.

* * *

It was somewhere between London, Ont., and Toronto that a provincial policeman stopped a string of half a dozen cars and waved them to the side of the road for a routine check of lights, brakes and general running condition. When he asked the young woman driving alone in the first car for her name, she told him, then stammered and corrected herself and explained she’d just been married. “My husband’s back there,” she gasped in some confusion, pointing over her shoulder. The policeman peered curiously into the back seat, saw nothing but a large cedar chest wedged across the rear cushions, shook his head and peered again. “No, no, no!” exclaimed the bride in consternation as the officer

studied the cedar chest with deepening suspicion. “I mean back there in the next car.” And there he was, waiting patiently in line behind his bride, with another load of wedding loot which the two of them were driving in their two cars to their new apartment in Toronto.

* * *

If you have a question that needs answering and you live in Toronto, the information desk at the central reference library is glad to help you anytime —just drop in or telephone. The information girls always cite their authority before giving the desired facts, and the other day when a woman telephoned to clarify a point of etiquette the librarian looked it up and then said, “This is Emily Post, and ...”

"Why, Mrs. Post, I had no idea you were in Toronto!” exclaimed the questioner. “Isn’t this wonderful being able to find out directly from you!”

* * *

"Who was Susie Cannel?”

The puzzling question seeped up from the children’s department in the basement of the Gosling Memorial Library in St. John’s, Newfoundland. On the main floor it spread like a fog from desk to catalogue to reference as the child who had started it all repeated the fiat demand: "Teacher wants a book about Susie Cannel.” And she stood there as

pat as Signal Hill, regardless of the fog thickening about her. At last the first assistant librarian emerged from her office, blasting the befuddlement that had all the other experts in its grip. "Susie Cannel indeed! Try the Suez Canal.”

* * *

A government can’t be too careful in an election year. A lot of those new fivecent stamps showing a hunter aiming his gun at whatever his pointer is pointing at are being cautiously over-printed with a cancellation stamp that says “Conserve Canada’s wildlife.”

Parade pays $5 (o $10 for true, humorous anecdotes reflecting the current Canadian scene. No contributions can be returned. Address Parade, c/o Maclean s Magazine, 481 University Ave., Toronto.