Jan. 28, 1958

T.J. Flournoy,
who makes pianos look and sound like they’re supposed to, went to a
customer’s home for a tune-up job and found him busily putting his
record collection in order by discarding unwanted platters.

The
householder is a former disc jockey who was recently displaced at an
L.A. radio station because he was not sufficiently in sympathy with the
new policy of strict rock-and-roll music.

He was fiercely
building tall piles of records he had amassed while a deejay when, with
sudden inspiration, he asked, "Hey do you want these things? I’m
getting rid of them."

FLOURNOY SAID NO,
he didn’t but he belonged to a service organization which could find
use for them. So he and the householder started carrying them out to Flournoy’s car an armload at a time, for there were about 2,000 of them.

Just
then the combustible rubbish truck came by on its weekly mission and
the young man who does the lifting asked what all the records were. The
householder said they were just a bunch of Presley-type stuff he was
getting rid of. Then he asked, "Do you want some of them?"

The young man inspected a few and remarked, "No, thanks. I’ve got better garbage than that on the truck."

Perhaps the madness is abating. [Note: I can hear the groans among you vintage record collectors–I know, I know–lrh]

ONLY IN L.A.–A woman phoned the smog control office yesterday and reported a dead cat in the street on Redondo Boulevard. She was told this was a matter for the city, not the Air Pollution Control District.

"Well, it’s pollutin‘ the air!" she said triumphantly.

Recognizing defeat, the smog man himself called the number–MI 5211, Station 751–and reported it.

IN SPITE OF Santa Anita, Hollywood Park and Agua Caliente, not everyone is as horse-minded as you might think.

Take
the case of the police officer who, after eight years on the Central
Auto Theft Detail, was transferred recently to the West Valley
Detective Bureau.

Last week he landed his first stolen horse
report. The owner described the missing steed as a "gelded palomino,
standing about 15 hands." The officer, a whiz at recovering stolen
cars, asked its color and height. The owner patiently explained about a
palomino’s color. He explained a horse’s height was measured in
"hands"–4 inches per hand.

Then the detective asked THE question–was the gelding a male or a female?

A
pained expression came over the owner’s face and he explained the facts
of horse life to the city-bred guardian of the law. He’ll know better
next time. Meanwhile, his mates are making his life miserable.

A NEIGHBOR phoned a lady named Nell, renowned for her fine martinis and asked, "How much do your martini glasses hold?"

"Hold
on, I’ll go and measure," she replied. She came back on the line a
moment later and said, with unintended naivete, "Gosh I don’t
know–we’re out of gin."

AT RANDOM–An
ad in a suburban newspaper offering for sale shares of stock in a
business enterprise had a coupon attached with an embarrassing typo.
Persons wishing additional information were asked to send in their
name, address and phone–with was spelled "Phonee" … Steve Alexrod
[Axlerod?–lrh] got an F in English on his report card and told his
teacher he didn’t think he deserved it. The teacher agreed but said
there was nothing lower … The bulletin board at Crossroads Market in
Pomona had a card stuck in it stating a Doug Robinson wished to buy
"Female, 18-21, blond, 5-6, 35-23-35." My, my, those brash boys in
Pomona … Jerry Hoffman wonders if the trend in movies and TV toward
romantic involvement of Americans and Asiatics will affect insurance
rates in Japan. So many Orientals meeting Occidents, he means. Oh,
well, yesterday was blue Monday.