Mishmash of Muse

When she appeared at the state employment office for her weekly dole, a lady I know reported she’d sold an article for $15.

The clerk looked at her file and frowned, "You do free-lance writing? It isn’t documented."

The
jobless lady, accustomed to being flayed for not having found a job,
thought the clerk wanted to see the check. She reached into her purse.

"No, I mean your records here," she said. "There’s nothing about free-lance writing."

The
lady on the dole explained she didn’t think it was necessary as she
wrote only in her spare time. This, she said, was the biggest sale
she’d made.

"Well, I’ll have to report this to the supervisor
and it may disqualify you," she was told. "After all, how do we know
you aren’t writing when you should be out looking for work?"

IT WAS A mistake, clearly, to encourage him but here’s North Young, Malibu artist, with another unlikely story.

It’s about his good friend, Neon Chandelier, who embarked from Paradise Cove recently in an 8-ft. rowboat, The Bardot, bound for Paris with a message of goodwill from the Malibu Sheriff’s Station to Inspector Maigret.

He
had intended to record his boat’s progress every evening but strong
headwinds necessitated his rowing continuously. Exhausted by the end of
the third day, Neon shipped his oars and fell asleep. Next morning the
oars were gone, presumably stolen by pirates.

Neon picked up the Bardot’s
neglected log and began making entries. Suddenly a helicopter passed
overhead and its pilot leaned out and asked what he was doing.

Chandelier, suffering from a bad head cold, looked up and said nasally (and ungrammatically), "I’m logging the Bardot after the oars is stolen."

PROBLEM
Peanuts, fried chicken, or a lovely girl-
How can one leave such an item
When continuing urge sends the senses awhirl
To stay with them ad infinitum?
— J.R. McCARTHY

THREE LADIES
came into a North Hollywood restaurant, were promptly seated at a table
and handed menus. Two of them barely glanced at them, gave their orders
to the waitress and resumed their chatting.

The third couldn’t
make up her mind. She studied the bill of fare, selected one entree,
then changed her mind and settled on another. Still undecided, she
asked the others what they were having.

"What is this," one friend demanded, "the last supper?"

QUOTE & UNQUOTE — Fragment
overheard by Bill Morgan in a South Pasadena restaurant: "It’s
certainly flattering that Freud went to so much trouble just for me!" .
. . Paddy, Hill Street cafe society character, advised George, barkeep
at the Rainbow, "I’m boozogenic." It meant he wanted a drink . . . Lisa Samuels
, 3 1/2, brought home a picture of Abe Lincoln from nursery school last
week and her mother, just for fun, asked, "Who’s that?" Lisa replied,
"I think he goes to my school — we’re having a birthday party for him
tomorrow."

AROUND TOWN — Two
weeks ago an attempt was made at Armed Forces Radio Service to
re-establish its blood bank. It didn’t get off the ground. They could
not raise the 20-pint minimum. But the other day when the staff learned
of a baby who will undergo open heart surgery March 4 at UCLA Medical
Center the 22 pints were quickly volunteered . . . Today’s What’s in a
Name feature explains Oneonta Park, out Huntington Drive way. In his research John Cornell uncovered another Oneonta
, a boom town site 13 miles south of San Diego whose promoters
advertised it in 1888, "No saloons, fist or bullfights." It disappeared
too . . . Now it’s Don Nardizzi’s turn to name some towns: Praisebe, Ala.; Proand, Conn.; Apples, Ida.; En, Mass.; Pig, Penn.; and Brain, Wash.