Matt Weinstock

March 11, 1958

Committees have been formed, speeches are being made and posters and slogans are everywhere to discourage that abomination of society, the litterbug.

It is clear that in the scale of villainy he is barely one notch below the wife beater, the monster who puts slugs in telephones and the fellow who gets drunk and disorderly.

At his worst he is hopelessly bugged on the subject of litter. Come what may, he throws it from his car.

Well, this corner today offers a cataclysmic idea that may help pull the plug on this enemy of society. Perhaps it could be integrated into the campaign propaganda.

IT'S UTTERLY simple. Advise potential litterbugs to remove the contents of their so-called glove compartments--the broken comb, the torn map of Northern California, the rusty pliers, the flashlight with the dead batteries, the unused instruction manual -- and use the space to stuff the stuff ordinarily tossed out the window.

Those who have formed a strong affinity for this potpourri could stow it under the turtle back or, if a late-model car, the deck.

Of course, those who actually use the glove compartment for gloves can just skip the whole thing.

A LADY I KNOW was banging on an heirloom radio which had suddenly stopped working when the phone rang and a voice asked pleasantly if she were listening to a certain TV program.

She said no, she didn't approve of television although her husband did, particularly westerns. The caller said she should try it oftener and perhaps she'd find things she liked.

Just then the radio, as if fearing competition and anxious to get back in her good graces, began working again.

THE CHILDREN have the floor again.

Colleen Clement, 7, came home from school after being absent several days because of the flu and announced, "I think I'm getting adjusted." When her parents laughed she thought she'd used the wrong word so she corrected, "I think I'm getting group oriented."

Of course, Colleen is the same little number who, while in a supermarket, asked in awe, "Do people eat lion?" Her mother saw the sign on the meat counter and corrected, "That's loin."

And then there's Laurel Phinney, 7, whose grandmother was telling her how God created heaven and earth and the animals and plants and the air and water. Laurel thought this over briefly, then inquired, "Then who made the devil?" Grandma is still stumped.

AS THE public address announcer at International Airport called the arrival of a flight from Chicago, a young-looking woman remarked, "Here comes the end of my freedom."

"Why," asked a devilish fellow waiting alongside, "is your husband coming home?"

"No," she squelched, "my three grandchildren."

LOOSE ENDS -- On his return from a trip to the Caribbean, Hatton Hulett was accosted by a friend who kept calling him Cookie. He finally asked why and the friend triumphantly explained--because he'd been a wafer a while. H.H. promises not to let it happen again ... Dan Pursuit, director of the Delinquency Control Institute at SC, is on the traffic safety congress program March 17. If anyone can catch those elusive youngsters, he can ... Noel Coward is appearing in his own plays at the Huntington Hartford Theater, recalling that classic remark attributed to an anonymous Frenchman, "I'm brave the rest of the year, but I'm a Noel Coward" ... No snarling, please. This is National Smile Week.