Prize for Pungency

Every year
the San Francisco Chronicle has a crayon drawing contest for
youngsters. Top prize is $25. Among this year's entrants was a bold,
impressionist drawing of a pig delivering the Chronicle to a farmhouse,
sent in by Roselita Gomez, 11, of Elk, Cal. It didn't win.

A few days after the winners were announced the contest editor received
a letter from Roselita stating bitterly, "You work and work and work
and all you get is a kick in the pants." (She used another word.)

It was the feeling of the staff that no one had ever said it better and
they chipped in and raised $35 — $10 more than first prize — and sent
it to Roselita.

Now when a discouraging word is heard in the Chronicle city room, the
complainant is warned he better be careful or he'll develop a "Gomez
complex."

ONLY IN L.A. — A girls' group planned a hayride and one of
them called Information and asked if there were any horse stables in
the area. "How do you spell the last name?" the operator asked … A
downtown editor received a printed invitation requesting "the pleasure
of your attention" to a TV program — with an RSVP. If this is living
modern he doesn't know if he can stand it.

::

SPRING IS FOR THE BIRDS

— Guy Mullen

::

THE PHONE RANG at William Adams'
home the other night and a recorded voice told him he had won a set of
carving knives sponsored by a vacuum cleaner company and asked when he
and his wife would be home for a demonstration.

Fascinated by such salesmanship, he phoned
the number given in the message and reported that he was unmarried.
This disqualified him, he was told. "We only give out knives when there
is a demonstration to both husband and wife," the lady said severely.

The remark haunts him.

::

PITY THE poor, confused writer in an era like this.

Weekly Variety has this item: "It's an
open secret that Hollywood is giving originals the brush." In an
adjoining column, this: "After a period of decline the original screen
story is coming back to Hollywood."

::

THERE'S A STORY going around about a boy
who unaccountably stopped talking. His parents took him to one
psychiatrist after another but he failed to respond. Then, one night at
dinner, he exclaimed, "My bread is not buttered!"

The parents excitedly called in the neighbors. Everyone waited to hear his next words. Despite coaxing, he remained silent.

"Johnny," his mother soothed, "We know you
can talk. But why in the world when you started talking again did you
say such an unimportant thing as 'My bread is not buttered'?"

"Well," he replied, "up to now everything has been all right."

::

AT RANDOM — A man pushing a market
shopping cart on Imperial Highway in Downey was waving a red kerchief
to ward off motorists, who honked anyway … Some City Hall saboteur is
sending out disparaging comments about Norrie [Mayor Norris Poulson — lrh] on office memo
stationary … Ivan Nemo hasn't quite recovered from a sign on Highway
395 between Riverside and Escondido, "Eat and Gas 500 Feet"… Radio
people are talking about the interruption on a religious program last
Sunday on KHJ. As the minister said, " And God said…" the announcer
broke in with, "This is a SigAlert bulletin!"