Word: vag
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Fire, Fire! Catastrophe!" The clang of a muffled bell fang out through the night. Vag, wandering down Holyoke Street, stopped short in his tracks. Screams of women and shouts of men could be heard coming from the innermost recesses of the Big Tree Swimming Pool. A man of action, Vag sprang to the rescue, dashed down a side alley, and burst through a small door at the rear of the Big Tree. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils. But undaunted, he staggered on through a dark corridor shouting, "Everybody keep calm. Walk, don't run, to the nearest exit...
...room, he opened the envelope cautiously. Out fell a two-page typewritten letter and a lot of enclosures from the Jane Fuller Club announcing that it could "secure just the kind of wife you want in a very short time." The letter ended with the command that Vag "act today! Why besitate? Satisfaction guaranteed...
...space below describe the kind of a lady you desire for a life companion and we will attend to the matter at once." Just like that! But who was this Jane Fuller, this dictator of the laws of nature? Should Vag, the cream of something or other, entrust his marital happiness to some unknown goddess in Milwaukee? No! And as he strode about the room in blustering defiance, a Great Idea came to him. The Government, that great paternal being, that impartial regulator of everything it can get its hands on, the Government should decide whom he should marry...
...idea grew. No more would he have to worry about the red-head from Smith. They'd take care of her down at Washington. Perhaps red-heads weren't anthropologically compatible with brunettes like Vag. Washington would know! No more worry about that little Radcliffe wench he'd met in Fine Arts class, either. A Senate Investigation Committee would probably submit a report showing how many Radcliffe-married Harvard men had thrown their wives out of windows in the last sixteen and a half years...
Nope, no more brooding on the Sex Question! When the time came, when Washington considered the Vag was prepared, he would receive, all cellophane-wrapped, his financially, psychologically, anthropologically, and philosophically compatible mate, and would settle down to a life of blissful contentment. With the fiery gusto of one who is consumed with a Burning Cause, Vag sat down at his typewriter and began a letter, "Dear President Roosevelt...