I'm Leaving My Fortune to That Lad On the Wireless RadioCommentary • ISSUE 30•04 • Sep 4, 1996 By T. Herman Zweibel, Publisher Emeritus (photo circa 1911) Did you know I was once Governor of our fair state? Yes, from 1914 to 1920. I was known as the "Strip-Mining Governor" for my historic ceding of over 27 million square acres of state-owned land to the boron mining interests. Unfortunately, not a trace of boron was found, thousands of farmers and miners starved to death, and I was voted out of office after only one term. Damn those fickle voter bastards! So you might say that politics has always been of great interest to me. But the politicians of today are spineless! No taste for graft, no stomach for vice. The only one who talks sense these days is the lad on the wireless radio. Nurse, who's that fellow who talks upon the wireless radio? What are you doing? I didn't ask for a bath, you ruminant! Anyway, I've decided to leave my entire fortune to him, and not that idiot son of mine. He spent most of his trust fund on the dog track, painted ladies, and bingo. Screw him! But this boy on the wireless radio, he makes a lot of sense. It's evident he's a fine young Christian with an even temperament and steady tongue, a bright soul who fights the good fight and always prevails. How he reminds me of myself as a lad! And he knows how to sum up his point in a few words with no gobbledygook or claptrap! What are some of the things he says? Let me think... ah yes! "Schweiner's yeast helps your breads achieve new heights." And, "Diaper rash? Pinkie Medicated Powder has all the power of talcum—and then some!" See, this boy just gets to the point right off, with no hassle or delay. We could use someone like him in Washington! Hopefully, my fortune will assist him in achieving that lofty goal. My attorney is balking, however. He advises that I shouldn't change my will until I find out this young man's name and refuses to help me. Bastard! I don't pay him $200 an hour so he can play my nursemaid! Of course, he's yet another one after my fortune. Drop dead, the whole stinking lot of you!