THE CRIME

THE DIARY OF A DANGEROUS MAN

After two weeks struggle against the oppression of the capitalist authorities of an acquisitive Society, it is possible to publish the second brief installment of a journal which bids fair to rip the stagnant weeds of conservatism from the face of humanity. For obvious reasons the author still prefers to remain anonymous.

Oct. 4. The American idea of education is all wrong, as I and Upton Sinclair have believed from the first. Not being a tame conformist, I have arrived two weeks behind the herd to prove my theory at this university of monuments and mudholes here in Cambridge.

Oct. 5. My application accepted, after payment of a fee, (so utterly mercenary) and the filing of a bond (callously faithless). More capitalist propaganda! The mere futility of getting anything out of this place appalls me.

Oct. 8. An interview with the Khan of men at University Hall. I was perfectly frank with him. I do not intend to be bound by examinations and tests. This whole scheme of sampling information is preposterous. A man's knowledge is his own property and it is outrageous to expect him to spill it out in blue books for the benefit of any dolt-headed instructor. And besides, I am not going to leave any data here to help these hirelings of the Boston bankers, as Upton Sinclair so well puts it, start another Boston police strike.

The great trouble with this place is that it is all talk, talk; nobody is willing to listen. No sooner had I finished giving the Dean my beliefs than he attempted to answer them. Of course, the only dignified thing for me to do was to walk out of the room, which I did, leaving him quite dumbfounded.

Oct. 11. Here in Cambridge they are afraid of ideas. I met the President walking through the campus this morning and as he failed to see me, I had the satisfaction of cutting him.

IN SIMPLEST TERMS

I'm a poet, you're a poet, he's a poet,--so

Let's all write verse together

And then publish it for show.

More and Most, and Worst and Less,--

Octuplicated Mobs,--

The Square is drenched with poesy

In fat, resounding globs.

I will scribble, you will scribble, he will scribble too.

And, when all of us have scribbled.

Then will we all be through?

Now that a way has been found to make synthetic eyes as good as real, and dozens of factories are running full time turning out artificial limbs, and monkey glands are being used regularly to renew youth; all we need for a prizewinner at next year's New York show is the foundation of an assembling plant for human parts.

And the slogan for 1924 will be:

"TRADE IN YOUR OLD BODY AND KEEP YOUR UPKEEP DOWN." R. SIMULANT.