we're skirtin' the largest copper State, and Knockout says he always thought the largest coppers come from Ireland. And when we hissed through Yaggy, Kansas, this dumb-bell claims that they ain't no place in the world actually had a handle like that, but that's prob'ly the name the town fights under.
This guy win the cement hairbrush, hey?
When we fin'ly docked at the Land of Flowers and Sunshine, Sweet Mamma, how the rain was comin' down! We swum out to a taxi and Knockout Burns points out the cloudburst to the guy at the wheel, askin' him if this was a sample of the delicious climate which all the Californians raves about when they come East for a slummin' trip. The chauffeur shakes six gallons of rain out of his hat and looks up at the sky whilst the drops bounce off his face. "Hump!" he remarks. "Darned if we ain't havin' a high fog!"
Bloodshed was avoided by throwin' Knockout into the back of the cab and slammin' the door.
But it was all different the followin' morn, and as we rolled out to Hollywood in the beautiful warm sunshine and the comely tourin' car the movie company sent to the hotel after us, passin' through rows of shelterin' palms, bloomin' flowers, dumfounded tourists which has never been nowheres, but which repeats over and over: "I never seen nothin' like this in Europe!" and dazzlin' movie queens which looks even better off the screen—well, even the hard-boiled Knockout Burns leans back in the cushions and gasps: "Say, this slab's a dude of a burg, hey?"
Fin'ly we get to the studio, and they is a good-sized
