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Show DEDICATIONAs the twilight shadows sink slowly about us, as the soft evening breezes play quietly on their zithers, and as we muse pensively over the results of the past year, we pause to smile slyly as we pull another unwary canary from old Fred Nink's ear. It really had been fun. We almost hated to do it. And yet it was our only chance to give our bird. We came out of our transom, closed the blinds, rolled up the doors, and went to work. We therefore dedicate this section to the fad wearing worn-out galoshes for neckties, to the smell in the gymnasium, to ourselves, to both of the funny people in the school, to the Ides of March, to the long-to-be-remembered name of Bud Poulton, or-even better- to the people who do not know Bud Poulton, to the members of the faculty, to the members of the faculty that know their subjects, to those who think student government is honest, to the cigarette container in the rear of the Park Building, to the snipes thrown in the can, to Al Cheney and his Rover Boys, to Tabitha Harness and her Rover Girls, to Al Cheney and Tabitha Harness and their Rover Boys and Girls, to everything good, to everything bad, to everything, to ... . (Exhaustion.)330 |