i
I'
m
-
i
I
VOL. I.
MORAVIAN FALLS, NORTH CAROLINA, SEPTEMBER, 1910.
NO. "8.
DID YOU EVER?
Did -you ever stop to notice
In the battles you have won,
That the dub who hollers loudest
Is "the first galoot to run?
Did you ever stop to notice,
When you're sizing up mankind,
That the guy who thinks he's wisest
Hasn't hardly any mind?
Did you ever stop to notice
That the loafer and the drone
Who knows how to run your business,
Has no business of his own?
Did you ever stop to notice
That the scamp who loves to tell
Vicious slanders on another
Is himself as black as hell?
HOWDY, FOLKS, HOWDY.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, here
1 am again. I managed to live
through that period of "bachelor
hood",, that I told you about last
month, and now the other half of the
firm is here with me again, ready
to do the cooking whenever I can
Kcare up something to cook.
When my wife read that article
"On Being a Bachelor," in the Au
gust Fool-Killer, she grabbed her
suitcase, hired a Pullman flying ma
chine, and came flopping home at the
, rate of two miles a minute, expect
ing to find me stretched out on the
floor indulging in all the artistic con
vulsions of a dying horse. She was
afraid I had either perished to death
or comnfFtted suicide by eating my
own cooking.
But she was mistaken on both
counts. When her flying-machine
lit in the yard I was standing in the
door with a dishrag in one hand and
a newspaper in the other, and was
dictating an editorial to the cat.
And now, friends, since my house
1 keeper and private , secretary has
come back to help me I am going to
make The Fool-Killer better than
ever. I will be fed better, of course,
and I will also have more time to
write the immortal hot truck to put
in the paper. I am going to make
it so doggon sizzling hot that the
postmasters will have to handle it
with tongs. And I want every one
of my readers to take a keen person
al interest in the success of the
paper. Tell all your neighbors and
friends about The Fool-Killer' and
read them a few chapters from it.
They will all want it when they learn
that there is such a paper. ,
I am going to stick to this pro
position as long as there is life in
- my body, and I am going to succeed
in spite of the world, the flesh and
the devil. I believe I have at least
one thousand good friends scattered
throughout the United States who
have been reading The Fool-Killer
for the past several months, and I
believe you people understand me
better than my own neighbors. Dear
unseen friends, I am trusting you to
help me and believe you are going to
Glub
la Clubs of Five, 15c a Year.
The price of single subscriptions to The Fool-Killer is 25 cents
a year, but if you will get several of your friends to go in with you
and send in a club of five or more at one time, you can all , get the
paper at 15 cents a year. The Fool-Killer is creating great excite
ment wherever it is introduced, and it now goes into every State
in the Union. Join the army of club-raisers! Do it now! Address:
THE FOOL KILLER, MORAVIAN FALLS, N. C.
do it. I made a special appeal last
month and the response was very
gratifying, but I want it to be still
better this month. It will require
only a few minutes of your time to
get up a club of a dozen or so, and
if every one of you will do that much
it will make things hum at this end
of the line.
Now, friends, I am going to look
for a regular shower of letters. Get
busy and send in a big club. Take
a fine sight at some of those premiums
I am offering and see if you can't
bring them tumbling to your feet.
RETURNED WITH THANKS.
God sent a Poet and a Dreamer into
the World.
The World put on its glasses and
looked at the Poet and Dreamer and
shook its head.
Then it picked up a golden pen and
wrote:
"Dear Lord God: We thank Thee
for submitting this Poet and Dreamer
for our-examination, .but regret that
he is not suited to our need. We
therefore beg to return him to Thee
with our kindest regards. Our re
fusal does not necessarily imply lack
of merit. We are always in the
market for Lawyers and Liars, Doc
tors and Dudes, Soldiers and Snobs,
Financiers and Fools ; but Poets and
Dreamers are entirely out of our
line.
(Signed) THE WORLD.
GO TO THE FAIR
Just about now the festive- popu
lation is hunting up its glad rags
counting out its small change and
making other necessery arrangements
for attending the Fair- the County
Fair, the State Fair, and a dozen
other kinds of Fairs. Everybody
will go, and they will go to spend
their money, and there is not a better
place on earth to get subscriptions to
The Fool-Killer than at the Fairs.
Now, boys, if you want to have the
most fun you ever had and at the
same time earn some valuable prem
iums for yourself, you should send
for a bundle of Fool-Killers and make
tracks for the nearest fair. Just
try it a pop.
Rates!
'-
WHAT I BELIEVE.
5 1 believe in a God who knows his
business, and a devil who is not as
bfg a fool as some folks. -
I believe the Bible is a great deal
nearer right than the smart guys who
assail and denounce it.
I believe God made the world,' but
the devil has been running it for a
good' many years.
r I believe the so-called Church of
God is so sound asleep that Gabriel
will have a hard time waking it.
. I believe the belly and the pocket-
book call more preachers than God
does.
I believe that if every church-mem-
ber had a praying-machine, - lots of
them would forget to wind .it.
I believe that cold water, hard
work, fresh air and sunshine are the
four best remedies known to man.
I believe marriages were originally
manufactured in heaven, but since the
patent ran out the devil has put lots
of substitutes on the market.
I believe the man who isn't as virtu
ous as he expects his wife to be ought
to be hung.
I believe when a girl is kicked out
of society and her destroyer sent to
Congress, there is something wrong
with the "system." -
I believe if no liars can go to
heaven, then God and George Wash
ington will have it all to themselves.
I believe if all hypocrites were dead,
there wouldn't be enough people left
to bury them.
I believe the world likes to knock
a man down and stomp his innards
out just for the luxury of crying at
his funeral.
I believe, to sum it all up, that the
world contains more fools and big
ger fools today than ever before.
I believe, therefore, that The Fool
Killer is needed, and that it will "fill
a long-felt want." .
If nothing serous happens to inter
fere with my plans, I am "going to
give you a double-geared Joe-darter
of a FoolKiller for October. I am
planning to have an engraved head
ing made for the paper, which will
be funny enough to make a blind
horse climb a church steeple and
sing, "I Feel Like I Look Like I
Feel Like I Look."
LOOK OUT FOR BILL JIM.
His name was Bill Jim.
But they called him William James
for short.
I guess I had better call him "Pro
fessor," also.
Well, then, Prof. Bill Jim was one
of them Harvard fellers.
He was a brother of Henry Jim,
an English liar of some note.
And Bill was some iiar himself.
If he had ever been afflicted with
the disease known as common sense,
he had lived at Harvard so long
that he had gotten entirely well of
He believed in spooks and spirits,
hants and hobgoblins, and all that
sort of stuff.
Prof. Bill Jim was a great hand to
study spirits. He kept a cage full
of familiar . spirits in his room and
studied them every day. He also
kept some in a bottle. r A liberal use
of the bottled variety enabled him 'S
to see anything he was looking for .
in the spirit line.
It was one of Bill Jim's pet theo
ries that the river of death could
be crossed in . both directions. He'
claimed that this world and the next -were
connected in some way and that
if a man could go over he could cer
tainly come back.
And so in the course of time Bill
Jim promised his friends that when
he died he was going to come back
and tell them how. it looked on the
other side of Jordan. -
Well, Bill Jim died the other day.
There is no mistake about it
he has certainly,, kicked the bucket,
passed in his checks, and paddled his
own canoe across the dark river.
And now his friends are wondering
whether he will keep his promise. '
They are keeping their eyes and ears
skinned for some sign of his return
to this work-a-day world.
One fool fellow swears he has al
ready got a wireless postcard from
Bill Jim, and he is looking for a '
registered telepathogram in the next
mail.
I don't know what train they are
looking for Bill Jim to arrive on, but
they are certain he is coming back.
And they are going to kill a rooster,
put the big pot in the little one, and
have a feast of wisdom and a flow
of soul at old Harvard once more.
In the meantime, if you see any
spirit that looks like Bill Jim loaf
ing around, just-drop me card.
Turn J to that Premium , List and
read it. Then get a double-quick,
stem-winding hustle on yourself.
Some of my kind-hearted neigh-'
bors have been so thoughtful as to
inform the rest of my kind-hearted
neighbors that the first fool the
Fool-Killer would kill would be the
editor of The Fool-Killer. When
fools get fooled and think they are
wise they go to popping off a volley
of lies.
I
I
It,
91'
5
1