When I wrote myself barren, I went down to the presses to see if I could not find further inspiration to fill out the final four inches of the column. Fumbling nervously around the presses I was thrown into violent contact with this appropriate block-head "On the Rack." The odds are three to one that you have never seen this before but I swear on my word of honor it is supposed to be a regular column of the CRIMSON.
In years past, it has surmounted brilliant discussions of the month's leading periodicals. I would gladly discuss any magazine that I could find. The only one that I have at hand, however, is Esquire. If you think that I am going to give President Conant the chance to padlock our door so that we have to crawl in the window you are mistaken.
If you like this column and would like it to appear at regular intervals, I wish you would let us know by letter or in person at our building, 14 Plympton Street. 176 words, I think that does the trick.
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The Crime
