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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 4, Issue 4 (August 1, 1929)

Bushels and Bombshells

Bushels and Bombshells.

You will recollect, intelligent reader, that man was adjured not so long ago, to “hide not his light under a bushel,” an injunction which has since proved to be a superfluity of advice; for history does not disclose that man has ever been in danger of snuffing his illumination with a bushel, or even a ton. In fact hundreds of tons of reinforced concrete, arranged in tiers and provided with sound-proof doors, have proved insufficient to keep within bounds his egoistic emanations. You may inter him in an ornamental sarcophagus of stone and steel, and still he booms—in truth, the larger the tomb the louder the boom. Booming, however, is one of the necessities of emancipated existence.

The man who is not a boomer is a “bloomer.” On this cosmic battlefield of boomers, no individual who has anything to sell, say, or even give away, can afford to emulate the dumbwaiter, for he who is dumb awaits in vain the falling of the fruits of silence—silence is no longer golden.

Booming, commonly known as advertising, is the art of titillating the subconscious unconsciousness of the many-headed with torrents of terminalogical tintinnabulations, or (to use the vernacular of the Excited States), “slinging the blobs an earful.”

“Allegations about Alligators.”

“Allegations about Alligators.”

“Tying ring adversaries in Lover's Knots.”

“Tying ring adversaries in Lover's Knots.”