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Phantagraph, v. 6, issue 5, September 1937
Page 2
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The Phantagraph Donald A. Wollheim, 801 West End Ave., New York City Editor and Publisher ---Affiliated with the Amateur Press Groups--- L'Apres Midi D'un Sap by John B. Michel What a mood! Heavens above! WHAT a mood! You sort of trilled along on it; it was like a misty rainbow crashing up through a mass of cirrus clouds--it could have been cumulus if you knew your meteorology better. But if you didn't it was cirrus and the sun kept on shining through anyway! Yes, and it was just like rolling around in a neat metal car in a perfectly flat field of butter, nothing oozy, you understand, but good solid, bourgeois butter. They say that people with moods like that are among the insane two percent or more in our population. That's half-way frightening. Conjuring up a metal car on a field of butter, particularly a NEAT metal car on LEVELLED butter probably meant that your Aunt Susie once blew your eardrums out because you persisted in wailing for a glass of water one poker night at your father's house when she was trying to fill an inside straight and your crying upset her and instead of the queen she got a 6 of clubs. This made you a Type C9-27 neurotic, in consequence of which you have a deadly fear of five story buildings and waitresses in beaneries who don't take baths.
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The Phantagraph Donald A. Wollheim, 801 West End Ave., New York City Editor and Publisher ---Affiliated with the Amateur Press Groups--- L'Apres Midi D'un Sap by John B. Michel What a mood! Heavens above! WHAT a mood! You sort of trilled along on it; it was like a misty rainbow crashing up through a mass of cirrus clouds--it could have been cumulus if you knew your meteorology better. But if you didn't it was cirrus and the sun kept on shining through anyway! Yes, and it was just like rolling around in a neat metal car in a perfectly flat field of butter, nothing oozy, you understand, but good solid, bourgeois butter. They say that people with moods like that are among the insane two percent or more in our population. That's half-way frightening. Conjuring up a metal car on a field of butter, particularly a NEAT metal car on LEVELLED butter probably meant that your Aunt Susie once blew your eardrums out because you persisted in wailing for a glass of water one poker night at your father's house when she was trying to fill an inside straight and your crying upset her and instead of the queen she got a 6 of clubs. This made you a Type C9-27 neurotic, in consequence of which you have a deadly fear of five story buildings and waitresses in beaneries who don't take baths.
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