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Variant, v. 1, issue 3, September 1947
Page 22
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I guess I can't blame anyone but myself fot this; I asked for " Amusing anecdotes of club members." Abreviated bathing suits indeed! It wasn't! THE MODEST LADY (A Peculiarly Feminine Variation on Our Human and Universal Illogicality) She lay upon her stomach, her head rising sphinx-like above the crest of the dune. We lolled about in the hollow between the dunes, out of the brisk sea-wind. The lady wore a yellow blouse and white-striped, black dirndl skirt. Head, shoulders, and forearms alone were visible to us below, so I could not know that the pagan sea-wind played immoderately (or at least so the lady must have though) with the hem of the black dirndl skirt. At length I rose and strolled about, coming eventually to the crest of the dune. Now the full length of the lady, down to shoeless feet, lay within range of vision. And upon the instant strange contortions developed: the lady twisted, writhed, scrabbled with toes, made swimming motions with her arms. I stopped, amazed [[?]]. Illness? Ptomaine? Had she been poisoned? Were these convulsions? Or had some hereditary nervous defect, long recessive, suddenly emerged in this poor writhing child? And then suddenly I saw and knew. The sea-wind whipped; the hem of the dirndl skirt rose a full inch (maybe three quarters) from t he back of sandy knees; and the scrabbling was violently intensified. The lady was trying to grip the fickle hem between her knees, hold it in its appointed place, and preserve her modesty. The relentless struggle brought her to her knees, and finally to her feet, and the licentious sea-wind was abashed and vanquished. I drew a long, proud breath, as when a new champion is made. So long as the coming generations were in such hands as these American Wonemhood was safe. Chastity need never tremble, nor Convention bow its lofty head. And Our Civilization, could forever Point with Pride. And then moments later the ladies returned, having withdrawn to don appropriate dress for surf-bathing, and the Modest Lady presented herself attired in something not unlike a knapkin and a gee-string! Was her knee exposed! Her entire thigh gleamed in the sea-shore sun! Did she scrabble to pull the gee-string down to cover this endless nakedness? She did not (thank all gods of Propriety!!) Was she embarrassed, ill-at-ease? She was as natural as a child, and as dignified as a Dean at Commencement! I fell back on the sand and expired, offering my last breath to the Forsaken Gods of Logic, and now, translated to a higher plane, I let them weep on my shoulder daily, between the hours of ten and twelve. Alexander M. Phillip[[?]] [[illustration texts]] Direction of Seawind Exhibit "A" Direction of expiration Exhibit "B"
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I guess I can't blame anyone but myself fot this; I asked for " Amusing anecdotes of club members." Abreviated bathing suits indeed! It wasn't! THE MODEST LADY (A Peculiarly Feminine Variation on Our Human and Universal Illogicality) She lay upon her stomach, her head rising sphinx-like above the crest of the dune. We lolled about in the hollow between the dunes, out of the brisk sea-wind. The lady wore a yellow blouse and white-striped, black dirndl skirt. Head, shoulders, and forearms alone were visible to us below, so I could not know that the pagan sea-wind played immoderately (or at least so the lady must have though) with the hem of the black dirndl skirt. At length I rose and strolled about, coming eventually to the crest of the dune. Now the full length of the lady, down to shoeless feet, lay within range of vision. And upon the instant strange contortions developed: the lady twisted, writhed, scrabbled with toes, made swimming motions with her arms. I stopped, amazed [[?]]. Illness? Ptomaine? Had she been poisoned? Were these convulsions? Or had some hereditary nervous defect, long recessive, suddenly emerged in this poor writhing child? And then suddenly I saw and knew. The sea-wind whipped; the hem of the dirndl skirt rose a full inch (maybe three quarters) from t he back of sandy knees; and the scrabbling was violently intensified. The lady was trying to grip the fickle hem between her knees, hold it in its appointed place, and preserve her modesty. The relentless struggle brought her to her knees, and finally to her feet, and the licentious sea-wind was abashed and vanquished. I drew a long, proud breath, as when a new champion is made. So long as the coming generations were in such hands as these American Wonemhood was safe. Chastity need never tremble, nor Convention bow its lofty head. And Our Civilization, could forever Point with Pride. And then moments later the ladies returned, having withdrawn to don appropriate dress for surf-bathing, and the Modest Lady presented herself attired in something not unlike a knapkin and a gee-string! Was her knee exposed! Her entire thigh gleamed in the sea-shore sun! Did she scrabble to pull the gee-string down to cover this endless nakedness? She did not (thank all gods of Propriety!!) Was she embarrassed, ill-at-ease? She was as natural as a child, and as dignified as a Dean at Commencement! I fell back on the sand and expired, offering my last breath to the Forsaken Gods of Logic, and now, translated to a higher plane, I let them weep on my shoulder daily, between the hours of ten and twelve. Alexander M. Phillip[[?]] [[illustration texts]] Direction of Seawind Exhibit "A" Direction of expiration Exhibit "B"
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