A Protest for Today

Let's sit down and talk this thing over. Call in the men from the Garden and the courts, from Hemenway and Soldiers Field. God knows they'll be glad enough to rest a moment! There they come, bandaged, on crutches, gashed and bruised.

Men, the Lampoon's little flare was all right.

But it wasn't inclusive enough. They got no further than slinging a futile wrench into the academic machinery.

Why didn't they expose the horrors of the PLAYING FIELD? Is the Press subsidized? Are there two H. A. A. Newses?

Well, we're going to drag this thing out in the open.

So here goes.

Tyrants Bloody-Sceptr'd

Once there were only a few men fools enough to suffer. Then came this Athletics-for-All Policy. Where one man hobbled over the Bridge with his limbs red with Mercurochrome, now there are ten. Where one man went mad learning signals, there are dozens.

Now they're gibbering for money for a new Gymnasium.

DON'T BE DECEIVED!

Whatever name they use, it's just a dungeon better equipped--to torture you!

--to drive splinters into your aching feet!

--to make you Freshmen gasp louder when the Body-Mechanics-Killer yelps his One--Two! One--Two!

Men! Wreck the steam shovels! And while you're at it, raze Hemenway and choke the subway with its bricks!