The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

"Oh,  That's Not So," Hugh Exclaimed. "Girls Don't Go As Far As Fellows."

Ferguson Smiled Pleasantly At Hugh And Drawled; "Shut Up,  Innocent; You

Don't Know Anything About It. I Tell You The Old Double Standard Has

Gone All To Hell."

"You're Exaggerating,  Don,  Just To Get Hugh Excited," Ross Said In His

Quiet Way. "There Are Plenty Of Decent Girls. Just Because A Lot Of Them

Pet On All Occasions Isn't Any Reason To Say That They Aren't Straight.

I'm Older Than You Fellows,  And I Guess I've Had A Lot More Experience

Than Most Of You. I've Had To Make My Own Way Since I Was A Kid,  And

I've Bumped Up Against A Lot Of Rough Customers. I Worked In A Lumber

Camp For A Year,  And After You've Been With A Gang Like That For A

While,  You'll Understand The Difference Between Them And College

Fellows. Those Boys Are Bad Eggs. They Just Haven't Any Morals,  That's

All. They Turn Into Beasts Every Pay Night; And Bad As Some Of Our

College Parties Are,  They Aren't A Circumstance To A Lumber Town On Pay

Night."

"That's No Argument," George Winsor Said Excitedly,  Taking His Pipe Out

Of His Mouth And Gesticulating With It. "Just Because A Lumberjack Is A

Beast Is No Reason That A College Man Is All Right Because He's Less Of

A Beast. I Tell You I Get Sick Of My Own Thoughts,  And I Get Sick Of The

College When I Hear About Some Things That Are Done. I Keep Straight,

And I Don't Know Why I Do,  I Despise About Half The Fellows That Chase

Around With Rats,  And Sometimes I Envy Them Like Hell. Well,  What's The

Sense In Me Keeping Straight? What's The Sense In Anybody Keeping

Straight? Fellows That Don't Seem To Get Along Just As Well As Those

That Do. What Do You Think,  Mel? You've Been Reading Havelock Ellis And

A Lot Of Ducks Like That."

Burbank Tossed A Cigarette Butt Into The Fire And Gazed Into The Flames

For A Minute Before Speaking,  His Homely Face Serious And Troubled. "I

Don't Know What To Think," He Replied Slowly. "Ellis Tells About Some

Things That Make You Fairly Sick. So Does Forel. The Human Race Can Be

Awfully Rotten. I've Been Thinking About It A Lot,  And I'm All Mixed Up.

Sometimes Life Just Doesn't Seem Worth Living To Me,  What With The Filth

And The Slums And The Greed And Everything. I've Been Taking A Course

In Sociology,  And Some Of The Things That Prof Davis Has Been Telling Us

Make You Wonder Why The World Goes On At All. Some Poet Has A Line

Somewhere About Man's Inhumanity To Man,  And I Find Myself Thinking

About That All The Time. The World's Rotten As Hell,  And I Don't See How

Anything Can Be Done About It. I Don't Think Sometimes That It's Worth

Living In. I Can Understand Why People Commit Suicide." He Spoke Softly,

Gazing Into The Fire.

Hugh Had Given Him Rapt Attention. Suddenly He Spoke Up,  Forgetting His

Resolve Not To Say Anything More After Ferguson Had Called Him

"Innocent." "I Think You're Wrong,  Mel," He Said Positively. "I Was

Reading A Book The Other Day Called 'Lavengro.' It's All About Gipsies.

Well,  This Fellow Lavengro Was All Busted Up And Depressed; He's Just

About Made Up His Mind To Commit Suicide When He Meets A Friend Of His,

A Gipsy. He Tells The Gipsy That He's Going To Bump Himself Off,  That He

Doesn't See Anything In Life To Live For. Then The Gipsy Answers Him.

Gee,  It Hit Me Square In The Eye,  And I Memorized It On The Spot. I

Think I Can Say It. He Says: 'There's Night And Day,  Brother,  Both Sweet

Things; Sun,  Moon,  And Stars,  Brother,  All Sweet Things; There's

Likewise A Wind On The Heath. Life Is Very Sweet,  Brother; Who Would

Wish To Die?' I Think That's Beautiful," He Added Simply,  "And I Think

It's True,  Too."

"Good For You,  Hugh," Ross Said Quietly.

Hugh Blushed With Pleasure,  But He Was Taken Back By Nutter's Vigorous

Rejoinder. "Bunk!" He Exclaimed. "Hooey! The Sun,  Moon,  And Stars,  And

All That Stuff Sounds Pretty,  But It Isn't Life. Life's Earning A

Living,  And Working Like Hell,  And Women,  And Pleasure. The 'Rubaiyat'

'S The Only Poem--If You're Going To Quote Poetry. That's The Only Poem

I Ever Saw That Had Any Sense To It.

          "Come,  Beloved,  Fill The Cup That Clears

           To-Day Of Past Regrets And Future Fears.

           To-Morrow? Why,  To-Morrow I May Be

           Myself With Yesterday's Seven Thousand Years.

You Bet. You Never Can Tell When You're Going To Be Bumped Off,  And So

You Might Just As Well Have A Good Time While You Can. You Damn Well

Don't Know What's Coming After You Kick The Bucket."

"Good Stuff,  The 'Rubaiyat,'" Said Ferguson Lazily. He Was Lying On His

Back Staring At The Ceiling. "I Bet I've Read It A Hundred Times. When

They Turn Down An Empty Glass For Me,  It's Going To Be _Empty_. I Don't

Know What I'm Here For Or Where I'm Going Or Why. 'Into This World And

Why Not Knowing,' And So On. My Folks Sent Me To Sunday-School And

Brought Me Up To Be A Good Little Boy. I Believed Just About Everything

They Told Me Until I Came To College. Now I Know They Told Me A Lot Of

Damned Lies. And I've Talked With A Lot Of Fellows Who've Had The Same

Experience.... Anybody Got A Butt?"

Burbank,  Who Was Nearest To Him,  Passed Him A Package Of Cigarettes.

Ferguson Extracted One,  Lighted It,  Blew Smoke At The Ceiling,  And Then

Quietly Continued,  Drawling Lazily: "Most Fellows Don't Tell Their Folks

Anything,  And There's No Reason Why They Should,  Either. Our Folks Lie

To Us From The Time We Are Babies. They Lie To Us About Birth And God

And Life. My Folks Never Told Me The Truth About Anything. When I Came

To College I Wasn't Very Innocent About Women,  But I Was About

Everything Else. I Believed That God Made The World In Six Days The Way

The Bible Says,  And That Some Day The World Was Coming To An End And

That We'd All Be Pulled Up To Heaven Where Christ Would Give Us The

Once-Over. Then He'd Ship Some Of Us To Hell And Give The Good Ones

Harps. Well,  Since I've Found Out That All That's Hooey I Don't Believe

In Much Of Anything."

"I Suppose You Are Talking About Evolution," Said Ross. "Well,  Prof

Humbert Says That Evolutions Hasn't Anything To Do With The Bible--He

Says That Science Is Science And That Religion Is Religion And That The

Two Don't Mix. He Says That He Holds By Evolution But That That Doesn't

Make Christ's Philosophy Bad."

"No," Burbank Agreed,  "It Doesn't Make It Bad; But That Isn't The Point.

I've Read The Bible,  Which I Bet Is More Than The Rest Of You Can Say,

And I've Read The Sermon On The Mount A Dozen Times. It's Darn Good

Sense,  But What Good Does It Do? The World Will Never Practice Christ's

Philosophy. The Bible Says,  'Man Is Born To Trouble As The Sparks Fly

Upward,' And,  Believe Me,  That's Damn True. If People Would Be Pure And

Good,  Then Christ's Philosophy Would Work,  But They Aren't Pure And

Good; They Aren't Made Pure And Good,  They're Made Selfish,  And Bad:

They're Made,  Mind You,  Made Full Of Evil And Lust. I Tell You It's All

Wrong. I've Been Reading And Reading,  And The More I Read The More I'm

Convinced That We're All Rotten--And That If There Is A God He Made Us

Rotten."

"You're Wrong!" They All Turned Toward Winsor,  Who Was Still Standing By

The Fireplace; Even Ferguson Rolled Over And Looked At The Excited Boy.

"You're Wrong," He Repeated,  "All Wrong. I Admit All That's Been Said

About Parents. They Do Cheat Us Just As Don Said. I Never Tell My Folks

Anything That Really Matters,  And I Don't Know Any Other Fellows That

Do,  Either. I Suppose There Are Some,  But I Don't Know Them. And I Admit

That There Is Sin And Vice,  But I Don't Admit That Christ's Philosophy

Is Useless. I've Read The Sermon On The Mount,  Too. That's About All Of

The Bible That I Have Read,  But I've Read That; And I Tell You You're

All Wrong. There Is Enough Good In Man To Make That Philosophy

Practical. Why,  There Is More Kindness And Goodness Around Than We Know

About. We See The Evil,  And We Know We Have Lusts And--And Things,  But

We Do Good,  Too. And Hugh Was Right When He Talked A While Ago About The

Beauty In The World. There's Lots Of It,  Lots And Lots Of It. There's

Beautiful Poetry And Beautiful Music And Beautiful Scenery; And There

Are People Who Appreciate All Of It. I Tell You That In Spite Of

Everything Life Is Worth Living. And I Believe In Christ's Philosophy,

Too. I Don't Know Whether He Is The Son Of God Or Not--I Think That He

Must Be--But That Doesn't Make Any Difference. Look At The Wonderful

Influence He Has Had."

"Rot," Said Burbank Calmly,  "Absolute Rot. There Has Never Been A Good

Deed Done In His Name; Just The Inquisition And The What-Do-You-Call-'Ems

In Russia. Oh,  Yes,  Pogroms--And Wars And Robbing People. Christianity

Is Just A Name; There Isn't Any Such Thing. And Most Of The Professional

Christians That I've Seen Are Damn Fools. I Tell You,  George,  It's All

Wrong. We're All In The Dark,  And I Don't Believe The Profs Know Any More

About It Than We Do."

"Oh,  Yes,  They Do," Hugh Exclaimed; "They Must. Think Of All The

Studying They've Done."

"Bah." Burbank Was Contemptuous. "They've Read A Lot Of Books,  That's

All. Most Of Them Never Had An Idea In Their Lives. Oh,  I Know That

Some Of Them Think; If They Didn't,  I'd Leave College To-Morrow. It's

Men Like Davis And Maxwell And Henley And Jimpson Who Keep Me Here. But

Most Of The Profs Can't Do Anything More Than Spout A Few Facts That

They've Got Out Of Books. No,  They Don't Know Any More About It Than We

Do. We Don't Know Why We're Here Or Where We're Going Or What We Ought

To Do While We Are Here. And We Get Into Groups And Tell Smutty Stories

And Talk About Women And Religion,  And We Don't Know Any More Than When

We Started. Think Of All The Talk That Goes On Around This College About

Sex. There's No End To It. Some Of The Fellows Say Positively There's No

Sense In Staying Straight; And A Few,  Damn Few,  Admit That They Think A

Fellow Ought To Leave Women Alone,  But Most Of Them Are In A Muddle."

He Rose And Stretched. "I've Got To Be Going--Philosophy Quiz

To-Morrow." He Smiled. "I Don't Agree With Nutter,  And I Don't Agree

With George,  And I Don't Agree With You,  Don; And The Worst Of It Is

That I Don't Agree With Myself. You Fellows Can Bull About This Some

More If You Want To; I've Got To Study."

"No,  They Can't," Said Ross. "Not Here,  Anyway. I've Got To Study,  Too.

The Whole Of You'll Have To Get Out."

The Boys Rose And Stretched. Ferguson Rolled Lazily Off The Couch.

"Well," He Said With A Yawn,  "This Has Been Very Edifying. I've Heard

It All Before In A Hundred Bull Sessions,  And I Suppose I'll Hear It All

Again. I Don't Know Why I've Hung Around. There's A Little Dame That

I've Got To Write A Letter To,  And,  Believe Me,  She's A Damn Sight More

Interesting Than All Your Bull." Pertext Form.  However,  If You Provide Access To Or

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