The FoolKiller
MONTHLY 25 CENTS A YEAR. IN CLUBS OF FIVE OR MORE AT ONE TIME, 15 CENTS A'.YEAR
Vol. XIII.
Pores Knob, North Carolina, September, 1925.
No. 9.
TRUTH TABLETS
Engrave this on a cabbage leaf
And wear it on your boilj
The man who runs and hollers
"Thief !"
, Has maybe got the spoil.
The man who tells thefevenue
About somebody's still,
Is maybe running one or two
Back there beneath the hill.
The. man who whispers in your ear
That someone is a crook, ,
Is just the guy you need to fear
Put that down in your book.
The man who slanders me to you .
Will slander . you to me;
And this is what we'd better do
Just, let that fellow be.
The man who makes Wmself " Big 1"
And dthers "little y&u
Is none too- good "to tell a lie
To put his projects through.
The Sunday saint, with pious face,
Who prays tne loudesfc prayer,
Is oftentimes the toughest case
. In jfarty counties square.
The guy who totes a loaded gun
And brags how he would fight,
jfcapt to be the-first to run
When danger comes in sight.
The, girl who we'ars the thickest coat
Of powder on her skin,
May be as ugly as a goat,
And quarrelsome as sin.
If you've no boil to give you cramp,
Or where no cabbage grows,
Engrave this on a postage stamp
And wear it on your nose. .'
; James Larkin Pearson.
unless something is done for you.
Now come right along to the
mourner's bench and let's see
how wet you can cry
ONE MORE PAIN EASED
I clip the following wad of
HOLY BONES!
T
NONE OV YER SASS
Now blame-take your blither
ing bat-eyed picture, don't you
say nary Word against this-here
;fool stuff , or Til bat you over the
bean with a broom-straw and
kill about half of your fall crap
of cooties.
Mere i ve been aor nearly a
whole year just breaking my
hamestring to give yau some
good sober gospel with no flies
in it, and thar you sot like a dead
frog in a post-hole and never
grunted. .
Well, if you didn't like what
have been feeding you on, how
do you like this, you sorry sinner
you ? Ill make you .grunt tuth
er side of yourself the next thing
you know. If I can't wake you
up with my sweet literary music,
Til politely bust a few left-handed
chicken coops over your bil
liard ball and see how that
works.
web-footed wisdom from a Ten
nesee paper Tennessee mind
you, where they are all supposed
to believe that the earth was
mad4 in six days and just six
thousand years ,go by a goose
berry watch. But read:
"Science can't be sure about the ex
act age of the earth, but it knows
that it is at least l,000,000,000years
old. And the crust of the earth as it
stands now may be as much as 10,
000,000,000 years old. Think of ten
thousand millions of years, compared
with the 12,000 years that have pass
ed since the end of the late , Stone
Age. Then remember that science
guarantees to this earth several hund
red million years more of existence
with plenty of warmth and sunlight."
Goddy ! Now We knovr more
about it. The age of the earth
is either one billion or ten billion
years, and that isn't much of a
margin to play on. A mere nine
billion years is-nothing. If them
can get that closetQ the truth,
it looks like they might throw a
rope over its horns and hold
till we all get there. Then we
could hog-tie it and ham-string
it and never let it get loose any
more.
And it has been twelve thous
and years since the end of the
Stone Age. Glad to know ft.
Moses ought to have told us a
bout that. Adam, was a regular
Fifth Avenue dude, and Eve was
a modern flapper. No doubt they
pitied those okhpoke-easys back
in the Stone Age, long before
fig leaves and excuses were in
vented. s
But the best and most com
forting part of the story is that
science guarantees this earth
several hundred million years
more of existence, with plenty of
warmth- and sunlight. That cer
tainly is reat news. It gives
me solicl chunks of joy as big as
an elephant's foot. It causes a
deep peace to settle down over
my turbulent breast like pouring
soggum molasses over a hot flap
jack. I had been told that the earth
couldn't last but ten million
years longer, and J didn't know
what in the world I would do a
bout running The Fool-Killer af
ter that. But now it's all right.
Therd is plenty of time, and you
T 1 .
can an go aneaa ana sow your
One more big bow-legged boo
by prize captured by this land
of the Rubg and the home of
the Boob! ;
What?
Why, JiotfSy-bunch, I am au
thorized to pour into 'your pink
ear the official news that the
Pappy of Rome has deprived
himself of " one more box of iiqly
bones in order that America
might be properly boned.
America has enough and to
spae of the common garden va
riety of domestic bonehead, but
it seems that these are not
"holy" enough" to meet the re
quirements of No. 666 who rules
on the Tiber. And he therefore
xips ana senas us a two-noss
wheel-barrow load of boly hones
Imean holy bones that have
been thoroughly tested and
found to be genuine-frauds.
These newly - acquired holy
bones, which the Pappy has sent
to the Cathedral of Cleveland,
are said to be the original bone
rack on which Saint Christina,
the Virgin, once hungjier store-
bought complexion.
Maybe so.
Arid then again, they may be
tlfe bones of some old Roman
cow that was killea for beef by
Julius Caesar about six years
ago
nYou never, can tell. These
Pappycrats are jgreat deajers in
bones, and I guess they could
work their hoodooHbusiness with
a cow's fist as well as anything
else.
Yes, my darling Melissa- Mar
hulda Jane, I have tried this
here trotting after a forty-dollar
suit on a five-cent man till I am
sick and tired of it. About the'
ime I get linlbered HP in one di
rection, here he goes lickity-split
some other way, and before I can
get turned around he is all Outof
sight but one hmd foot and five
joints of his reputation.
And so hereafter I shall tote
my own skillet and run my own
show. Anybody that don't like
it can have it anyhow.
Wham!
Flam!
But don't gimme none of your
lip about not liking this sort of .turnip patches. After all, there
meuicm. x uur case is sorter . may yet De a cnance ior tne nv
flke the old worhern that had the ; omentalists and the Fundahw
itch-you can't live till you dietionists to reach an agreement.
HE-HAW! HE-HAW!
When I look at the men. it
seems entirefy possible that they
might have evoluted from mon
keys; but when I looK at' the
purty galsJ-I think God must
have bought them iiT a candy
store.
HOWDY AGIN!
Wow!
Stand at attention!
Shut up that gap in your face
and open them holes in the side
of your head.
Lissen !
Some "folks have got a notion
roosting in their cobwebby gar
rets that I ought to grab some
leather-lunged "leader" by his
flowing shirUtail and trot after
him like a pet chicken after the
feed-pan. .
Great spoons!
Why, "con sider your cross
eyed conscience, I am a leather
lunged "leader" myself, and I
can kick up just as much dust
to the square inch as anybody
else can. Sort propose from now
on to roost on my own limb and
drink buttermilk out of my own
trough. And if any of you other
bow-legged bantams want to
drink with me, just trot up here
and souse in your snouts and go
to work. It won't cost you any
thing but the price, and you
wont miss that in a hundred
years. -
All right, honey!
Here is your Fool Killer again,
MigKty doggon glad to see you
all once more.
Well, we don't need any intro
duction. You all know me as
well asold Pide knows herfeed
box, and I know most of you and
will soon get acquainted with
fthe rest.
I have been hammering away
pr the doggon fools for about 15
I years, and have got enough bides
tacked up on the gable end of
the barn to start a tannery. Have
had lots of fun, and severaLkinds
of tribulation mixed along with
it. I have furnished amusement
for millions of people, all the
way from Phihmayork to Frog
Level, and from China to the
North Pole. If all the laughs
that have been caused by reading:
The Fool-Killer could be rolled
up into one big laugh and turned1
loose all at once, it would sound
like the seven thunders pulling
their chariots acrossvthe pave
ments of heaven.
Of course you don't want to
miss anything that The Fool
Killer says from now on, and
j6u don't want to let any of
your friends miss it, either.
So get4 busy, quick.
Totethis fool paper in your
pocket wherever you go to the
mill, to the store to the place
Where you work and get every
body rounded ur and placed on
The Fool-Killer's mailing list.
You do that mtich, and old Pear
son will do the rest.
Now let's go.
s