The artists' models at Rome's Academy of Fine Arts... sent their negotiator, Anna di Vetta, out onto the streets to press their claims. In girdle, bra, and high heels, Anna paraded through the city with a sign promising complete exposure of her 40½-31-40½ figure if her union's demands were not met. Instead of bravely meeting the challenge, the combined ministries of Labor and Public Instruction crumbled. They promised a fixed salary of $150 a month and fringe benefits—but only, reported a triumphant Anna, "if I promised not to take off all my clothes."
I live by the code of the parking chair. Someone (the writer didn't even know that the magnificent parking chair had a name, let alone all that it stands for) fired off a letter to my local paper today vilifying the practice, and it had me outraged. I've since submitted a rebuttal. In the course of research for the letter, I found the following recent story from The Morning Call in Allentown, PA detailing what can happen when you don't respect the parking chair. The police may have assured the man he did nothing wrong by moving the chair, but I bet he doesn't do it again. And if you believe in the chair like I do, you can always show it!
The Mgt. of WU--Alex, Chuck and Paul-- would like to apologize to our readers for foisting an overly political and jejune and tendentious post on you, even by proxy. You'll note that it's been deleted--although the comments formerly attached to it remain behind, so as to archive the wise and tasteful responses of our loyal readers.
Please forgive us, and continue reading as before.