Missile Nonsense

Don Dwiggins, this paper's aviation editor, has ferreted out a deep, dark Air Force secret — the planning behind Project Musmusculus.

One day, apropos of nothing, a Pentagon general asked his secretary, "Say, why don't we put a mouse into orbit?"

"Why not?" she said cautiously.

Suddenly inspired, he called Canaveral. "We're too busy trying to get a few things off the ground," was the reply. "Try Vandenberg."

At Vandenberg they were too busy trying to get a few things into the ground. "Try Randolph," they said.

The general called Randolph AFB and asked, "Got any mice down there we can put into orbit?"

"Must be something wrong with this phone," Randolph said. "I thought you said mice."

SO THEY GOT some
mice which had never been higher than a church steeply and gave them IQ
tests and aptitude tests and analogy tests. All but seven eventually
flunked out and these were fed special diets of space cheese, checked
for subversive traits and briefed on escape and evasion in the event
they came down inside Russia. Then they were shipped to a big missile
base, put inside a nose cone and the countdown began.

The general, teeth clenched nervously on a cold cigar butt, glanced at his watch, then at the clock on the wall.

As
the clock struck 1 the general snapped to attention and saluted the
brave mice. Suddenly the smart mice got the picture and scampered down
and out of the missile. As they took off into the sunset they said,
"Hickorydickory dock to you, Dad!"

::

PEOPLE WHO DRINK too much can be awful nuisances. On the other hand they sometimes come up with unforgettably picturesque prose.

There
was the fellow who woke up with a terrible hangover, looked around, and
realized he'd spent the night on a sofa in a pal's apartment. When he
groaned the pal asked, "What's the matter?"

"I got the woo-wows," he said shakily.

"Is that bad?"

"Bad? Listen, if you ever get the woo-wows and the wonderlies together you're a goner!"

::

IT WAS NO USE trying to stop North Young from telling the harrowing tale of his dear friend Odessa Ittybit Moore, prominent socialite and gourmet.

Odessa had stuffed a large haddock with spiced Syrian bumblebees and was baking it at her Malibu beach house.
Peering into the oven, Odessa was horrified to find the fish splitting
from end to end and bumblebees rolling out onto the baking sheet.
Somehow she got most of the stuffing back in, but when she saw that
toothpicks were not going to be strong enough to hold the big fish
together she dashed to the phone and dialed what she believed was her
butcher shop.

Unfortunately, in her excitement, she had dialed a
pharmacy and when a man answered she cried, "What's the best skewer for
a splitting haddock?"

"Aspirin," the druggist replied, and poor, hungry, frustrated Odessa gave up and opened a can of California sardines.

::

MR. GERTER

The 'h' sound not being in their language, the Russians call Secretary of State Herler "Mr. Gerter." — News item.

Gellow to Mr. Gerter, Ge's
Inspired this gunk of verse.
Ge should be very Gappy that
The Russ don't call gim worse.

-RICHARD ARMOUR

::

AT RANDOM — Tony
Curtis, who suffered a split Achilles' tendon, received this telegram
from Kirk Douglas, who appears with him in the film "Spartacus":
"You're a fine Roman gladiator, splitting a Greek tendon!"