I've seen Cartoosh play that game many a time. These town pups remind me
powerfully of small editurs prowlin' around for news. In my opinyun they
is the inventors of the interview bisness.
INTERVIEWERS
If it ain't a doggish sort of bisnes I'm mistaken in my idees of the
proprietes of life. When a man gits into trubble, these sub editurs go
fur him right strait, and they force their curosity away down into his
heart strings, and bore into his buzzom with an augur as hard and as
cold as chilld iron. Then away they go to skatter his feelins and
sekrets to the wide, wide world. You see the poor feller can't help
himself, for if he won't talk they'll go off and slander him, and make
the publik beleeve he's dun sumthing mean, and is ashamed to own it.
I've knowd em to go into a dungeon and interview a man who dident have
two hours to live. Dot rot em. I wish one of em would try to interview
me. If he didn't catch leather under his coat tail it would be bekaus he
retired prematurely--that's all. But I like editurs sorter--especially
sum. I like them that is the guardeens of sleepin' liberty, and good
morals, and publik welfare, and sich like; but there's sum kinds I don't
like. Them what makes sensation a bizness; feedin' the peepul on
skandal, and crime, and gossip, and private quarrels, and them what
levies black mail on polytiks, and won't go for a man who won't pay em,
and will go for a man that will.
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