The State’s Survey

By Harry R. E. Hampton

A moratorium, we take it, means that a cuntry needn’t settle up until it settles down. – Bob Gonzales (1888-1916) in THE STATE’S SURVEY.

By now, no doubt, all bets on whether the Carolina stadium would be finished in time for Tech have been paid off.

Since the Highway Department is paving every pig track in its spider web of roads, why can’t they use another dolar of the taxpayers’ money for a sign board showing the wandering taxpayers where he’s going?

What we’d like to know is what all these ants that swarm over the woods and fields everywhere live on when picnickers aren’t feeding them.

What the housewife needs is a stove that will go out under the pots when the telephone rings.

Now that Elgin has left it holding the sack, why doesn’t Blaney take its name back?

A question, “Aren’t you Eddie Finlay?” brought the reply, “No. Harry Hampton. Down the other Creek.”

The death of J. L. (Junnie Weeks, S. C. E. & G. safety engineer and informal entertainer supreme, recalls this one for the book.

Meeting a young bride he asked her where she was from. She said, “Bowman.”

“I never saw anyone from Boman,” said Mr. Weeks, “whether they were driving a Cadillac, riding a mule, or walking barefoot in the road, who wasn’t named Shuler. What was your name, honey?”

“It was Shuler.”

Perhaps they don’t print maps on more substantial paper because the roads are changed as fast as the maps wear out.

September 12, 1971  State (published as The State)  
Columbia, South Carolina
Page 24

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