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THEMS OUR SENTYMENTSWe, the Editors of the GOTHIC, feel this way about it. If youlike the Annual, read it; if you dontlike it, dont read it. We have yourjack, what do we care? We are unable to unearth criticism which willjustify the abrogation of our undertakings.Another thing. In past years, ashort foreword has been rammedinto the very throat of the Annualgraduate organ to this effect: Ifwe have given you, dear reader, onehour of pure enjoyment, we feel asif our reward were of the noblestand highest order of compensationfor our efforts in behalf of the SeniorGraduate Class of the BloomingtonHigh School of Bloomington, Indiana.May it be most remote from ourhearts to criticize our predecessors.They did the best they knew how,but they were ignorant. Their motive was w^rong, and they were woefully lacking in producing that indefinable something which we havenick-named the school annual.Now we dont feel that way aboutthat hour of pure enjoyment at all.We know the first thing youll rushfor will be your picture. We knowthat your ultimate joy will be infinding that your picture has turnedout well. If your likeness is good,then you praise the annual. But ifit does not exactly flatter you the annual is a complete failure. We know,because thats the way we feel aboutit ourselves.And dont cry about it, LizzieSmith, if Sadie Jones has her picturein more times than you! In thewords of Mark Twain, the only timewe are not self-conscious is at breakfast time, and many a tear has beenshed into the grape-fruit when thejuice squirted into the eye at thepsycologically wrong moment.A Hebrew gentleman went alonga road to a place where the road anda railroad crossed on a downgrade.He saw symptoms of an automobile lying about. Lie saw some inert human forms draped and festooned around over the landscape.He noted one form less inert andmore intact than the others and heknelt beside it and intelligentlyasked:Wass dere a excident?The man inquired of was toonearly dead to give the sort of answer that sort of foolish question sorichly deserves, so he patientlywhispered:Yes.Did der logomotif hit der auto-mopeel ?Yes, the other whispered.Did der enchineer plow his vis-sle?No.Has de claim achent peen alongyet?No.Let me lie down peside you.Charlie Gerhart—I wish we hadBolshevism in this high school. Lookat what it did for Russia.Bill Ramsey—What did it do overthere?Chas.—Why, it did away with allclasses.Mrs. Hepburn—Keith, bring mea stick of wood.Keith—Maam ?Mr. Hepburn—Transport fromthat recumbent collection of combustible matter on the threshold ofthis edifice a curtailed excresence ofa defunct tree.Page eighty-five |
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http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloom/id/2457 |
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Bloomington High School |
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