March 11, 1958

Committees have been formed, speeches are being made and posters and
slogans are everywhere to discourage that abomination of society, the
litterbug.

It is clear that in the scale of villainy he is barely one notch below
the wife beater, the monster who puts slugs in telephones and the
fellow who gets drunk and disorderly.

At his worst he is hopelessly bugged on the subject of litter. Come what may, he throws it from his car.

Well, this corner today offers a cataclysmic idea that may help pull
the plug on this enemy of society. Perhaps it could be integrated into
the campaign propaganda.

IT’S UTTERLY simple.
Advise potential litterbugs to remove the contents of their so-called
glove compartments–the broken comb, the torn map of Northern
California, the rusty pliers, the flashlight with the dead batteries,
the unused instruction manual — and use the space to stuff the stuff
ordinarily tossed out the window.

Those who have formed a strong affinity for this potpourri could stow
it under the turtle back or, if a late-model car, the deck.

Of course, those who actually use the glove compartment for gloves can just skip the whole thing.

A LADY I KNOW was
banging on an heirloom radio which had suddenly stopped working when
the phone rang and a voice asked pleasantly if she were listening to a
certain TV program.

She said no, she didn’t approve of television although her husband did,
particularly westerns. The caller said she should try it oftener and
perhaps she’d find things she liked.

Just then the radio, as if fearing competition and anxious to get back in her good graces, began working again.

THE CHILDREN have the floor again.

Colleen Clement, 7, came home from school after being absent several
days because of the flu and announced, "I think I’m getting adjusted."
When her parents laughed she thought she’d used the wrong word so she
corrected, "I think I’m getting group oriented."

Of course, Colleen is the same little number who, while in a
supermarket, asked in awe, "Do people eat lion?" Her mother saw the
sign on the meat counter and corrected, "That’s loin."

And then there’s Laurel Phinney, 7, whose grandmother was telling her
how God created heaven and earth and the animals and plants and the air
and water. Laurel thought this over briefly, then inquired, "Then who
made the devil?" Grandma is still stumped.

AS THE public
address announcer at International Airport called the arrival of a
flight from Chicago, a young-looking woman remarked, "Here comes the
end of my freedom."

"Why," asked a devilish fellow waiting alongside, "is your husband coming home?"

"No," she squelched, "my three grandchildren."

LOOSE ENDS — On
his return from a trip to the Caribbean, Hatton Hulett was accosted by
a friend who kept calling him Cookie. He finally asked why and the
friend triumphantly explained–because he’d been a wafer a while. H.H.
promises not to let it happen again … Dan Pursuit, director of the
Delinquency Control Institute at SC, is on the traffic safety congress
program March 17. If anyone can catch those elusive youngsters, he can
… Noel Coward is appearing in his own plays at the Huntington
Hartford Theater, recalling that classic remark attributed to an
anonymous Frenchman, "I’m brave the rest of the year, but I’m a Noel
Coward" … No snarling, please. This is National Smile Week.