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Snide, issue 2, February 1941
Page 31
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Odds & Ends Here we present three items left knocking around from last issue. First, two contributions to an author's dept. which never materialized; and on the following page, a bit of Ackermanese verse. I am always crowded. You must see my desk. Better yet, you must see me seated at my desk. It is quite an impressive operation to properly seat myself to type: I place the chair three feet in front of the desk. I sit down. I 'scrooch' forward over the floor, guiding my long legs into the rat-hole the designer conveniently left to place one's knees in. Lo: I am in -- sometimes. I very seldom feel comfortable. Frequently my feet stick out the other side into the path of whoever happens to be tripping ..and I do mean tripping... by. The slide the type-writer rests on is so low it in turn rests on my lap. I have one hell of a time. Pick out your own desk next time you decide to get one. Don't let a woman do it for you. They in for looks and the salesman's dark-streak-on-upper-lip. Which practically explains how and why Pong wrote that essay. He didn't write it... he lived it! -BobTucker My father is English, my mother Swiss. I was born in Roumania, and live in Canada, which, believe it or not makes me an Englishman. My hobbies are so numerous I have lost count. One of them is writing science-fiction stories nobody wants to read. I have, however, managed to sell several quiz-pages. The idea for 'Nothing' came when I was writing a letter to a friend. I had nothing to tell him, yet I had to fill the page somehow 'Nothing' is the result. -Fred Hurt 31
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Odds & Ends Here we present three items left knocking around from last issue. First, two contributions to an author's dept. which never materialized; and on the following page, a bit of Ackermanese verse. I am always crowded. You must see my desk. Better yet, you must see me seated at my desk. It is quite an impressive operation to properly seat myself to type: I place the chair three feet in front of the desk. I sit down. I 'scrooch' forward over the floor, guiding my long legs into the rat-hole the designer conveniently left to place one's knees in. Lo: I am in -- sometimes. I very seldom feel comfortable. Frequently my feet stick out the other side into the path of whoever happens to be tripping ..and I do mean tripping... by. The slide the type-writer rests on is so low it in turn rests on my lap. I have one hell of a time. Pick out your own desk next time you decide to get one. Don't let a woman do it for you. They in for looks and the salesman's dark-streak-on-upper-lip. Which practically explains how and why Pong wrote that essay. He didn't write it... he lived it! -BobTucker My father is English, my mother Swiss. I was born in Roumania, and live in Canada, which, believe it or not makes me an Englishman. My hobbies are so numerous I have lost count. One of them is writing science-fiction stories nobody wants to read. I have, however, managed to sell several quiz-pages. The idea for 'Nothing' came when I was writing a letter to a friend. I had nothing to tell him, yet I had to fill the page somehow 'Nothing' is the result. -Fred Hurt 31
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