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EVERY-DAY MAGIC
Chairs that flop into beds . . . bags that suck up dirt. . .
tiny ticking things that count all day long for you. Day.
light any night just by pushing a button. A stream that
never stops till you turn off a faucet. Any voice you
want, talking to you from a cage on your desk or wall.
Actions of yesterday, of people miles away, going on on a
curtain before you. Stilled throats singing to you from
discs; distant throats singing to you from nothing!
Uucanny, daily magic—this, due to national advertising.
Advertisements have given you flashlights, telephones,
typewriters, automobiles, cold creams, motion pictures.
They have given you new eyes, new ears, new hands, new
feet new faces, new emotions. They have urged such
wide, use, so lowered prices, that almost wishes are autos,
almost beggars can ride. Through advertisements you’ve
laid down the shovel and the hoe. You can buy a whole
harvest ready-to-eat in cans. You’ve hung up the fiddle
and the bow, for a radio. There’s little old-time work lest
in this age of amazing short-cuts.
Read the Avertisments. They keep you
to the fore of Life
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