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MSA Bulletin, v. 2, issue 4, May 1940
Page 6
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Page Six MSA BULLETIN May 1940 "Now that you make me think of it," said Ginsberg, "I do remember it because it was stranger than usual, the bird what bought it. I had three copies and this little guy bought 'em all and wanted to know if I didn't have any more." "Bought three copies, eh?" I said. "Now that is strange." The next thing I knew Ginsberg was kicking me on the shins and making 'psst--psst' noises out of the side of his mouth. In such situations I can't think very fast so I just stood and watched. A little, old fellow was approaching us, blushing profuslly, and smiling, and beaming as if her were well pleased with something. "Ah,--Mr. Ginsberg--" he spoke rather timidly. "Do you have any more copies of--ah--that magazine I bought the other day?" Rising anger followed the dawn of comrehension. Disregarding any respect due Joe's customers, I was on my feet an dhad a badly frightened little man by the coat lapel. "You thieving little runt!" I shouted down at him. "Just what in the blue blazes are you up to anyway? Trying to hog all the magazines in the country! I ought to shake you 'til your false teeth rattle like castinets." "W-w--Oh, please wait. "Just one moment," he implored in terror. "You stole my magazine," I accused him. "You stole magazines from everybody in the country! YOU'VE bought or stolen that issue from every dealer that had it. Tell me the truth about this, or by-----" "Heavens, have I really done wrong?" he wailed. "I was only trying to---." "Well, what were you trying to do--corner the market?" "Oh, no. No. You see, I--I--. well, Editor Grumble of Confounding Science Mixtures printed a letter of mine in that issue, and I was so---." "So pleased," I interrupted with sudden understanding, "that you set out to grab up every issue printed. Of all the little conceited /%#x?%%!." And thus was the mystery of Volume XXVIX, No. 58 of Counfounding Science Mixtures finally brought to an end. Threatened with the wrath of a true fan, the little magazine pirate immediately promised to return all the magazine he had stolen, and to offer for sale the vast surpluses he had bought. Moral: It's all right when a fellow has a letter printed if he buys up ten or so copies, but when a guy tries to get them all--why, by George, that's down-right egoism! ********* Van Onlooker Says: Upon completing "The Roaring Trumpet" in the May UNKNOWN, I was so darned impressed that I practically ran (not walked) to my nearest public library and got their entire stock of Norse legends. Imagine my surprise in learning that the entire 60,000 words of the "Trumpet" were condensed into about right small pages of large type entitled "Thor's Wonderful Journey" and recounted event for event every major incident except for the horn-drinking episode which may possibly have been cut at the S&S office. I for one would have liked to see how de Camp and Pratt would have handled this. Since reading the legend, I've often wished the horn hadn't been destroyed during the Ragnorak. Imagine having that fastened to the business end of a bock brewery!
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Page Six MSA BULLETIN May 1940 "Now that you make me think of it," said Ginsberg, "I do remember it because it was stranger than usual, the bird what bought it. I had three copies and this little guy bought 'em all and wanted to know if I didn't have any more." "Bought three copies, eh?" I said. "Now that is strange." The next thing I knew Ginsberg was kicking me on the shins and making 'psst--psst' noises out of the side of his mouth. In such situations I can't think very fast so I just stood and watched. A little, old fellow was approaching us, blushing profuslly, and smiling, and beaming as if her were well pleased with something. "Ah,--Mr. Ginsberg--" he spoke rather timidly. "Do you have any more copies of--ah--that magazine I bought the other day?" Rising anger followed the dawn of comrehension. Disregarding any respect due Joe's customers, I was on my feet an dhad a badly frightened little man by the coat lapel. "You thieving little runt!" I shouted down at him. "Just what in the blue blazes are you up to anyway? Trying to hog all the magazines in the country! I ought to shake you 'til your false teeth rattle like castinets." "W-w--Oh, please wait. "Just one moment," he implored in terror. "You stole my magazine," I accused him. "You stole magazines from everybody in the country! YOU'VE bought or stolen that issue from every dealer that had it. Tell me the truth about this, or by-----" "Heavens, have I really done wrong?" he wailed. "I was only trying to---." "Well, what were you trying to do--corner the market?" "Oh, no. No. You see, I--I--. well, Editor Grumble of Confounding Science Mixtures printed a letter of mine in that issue, and I was so---." "So pleased," I interrupted with sudden understanding, "that you set out to grab up every issue printed. Of all the little conceited /%#x?%%!." And thus was the mystery of Volume XXVIX, No. 58 of Counfounding Science Mixtures finally brought to an end. Threatened with the wrath of a true fan, the little magazine pirate immediately promised to return all the magazine he had stolen, and to offer for sale the vast surpluses he had bought. Moral: It's all right when a fellow has a letter printed if he buys up ten or so copies, but when a guy tries to get them all--why, by George, that's down-right egoism! ********* Van Onlooker Says: Upon completing "The Roaring Trumpet" in the May UNKNOWN, I was so darned impressed that I practically ran (not walked) to my nearest public library and got their entire stock of Norse legends. Imagine my surprise in learning that the entire 60,000 words of the "Trumpet" were condensed into about right small pages of large type entitled "Thor's Wonderful Journey" and recounted event for event every major incident except for the horn-drinking episode which may possibly have been cut at the S&S office. I for one would have liked to see how de Camp and Pratt would have handled this. Since reading the legend, I've often wished the horn hadn't been destroyed during the Ragnorak. Imagine having that fastened to the business end of a bock brewery!
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