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Sun Spots, v. 7, issue 1, whole no. 27, Spring 1946
Page 5
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Spring, 1946 SUN SPOTS Page 5 ************************************** GRAPH By Stanley G. Weinbaum "You're on the mend again," said Dr. Felix Kurtius, tossing his black case carelessly on the desk. "Let's see how permanent it is this time!" Isaac Levinson -- mail-order Levinson -- rolled down his sleeve and stared sardonically at the doctor. "Thanks," he growled. "I've heard that before." "You're feeling better, aren't you?" The merchandise king nodded reluctantly, staring about his elaborate office. "Sure," he said. "But for how long? And anyway why don't you do something? Is this the new medical practice -- to let a patient get well by himself? For that I don't need a doctor!" "I gave you my suggestions," retorted Kurtius. "Three and a half years ago -- when you first called me -- I told you what to do. Don't blame me because you refused to follow my advise." "Vacations!" sneered Levinson. "Rest -- changes -- travel -- retire! Could I leave my business with conditions like they were?" "You certainly could! What's a little more money to you -- or a little less?" "Money -- bah! It's my business that needs me." "Same thing." "No," said Levinson abruptly. "Not the same thing! My stockholders, my employees, I have obligations to them. The business must be run right, or the one loses money and the other jobs. Could I let some schlemiehl make a botch of things while I was telling how the biggest taroon got away from me? Oser!" "Just excuses," observed Kurtius. "What you mean is that you didn't want to leave." "Couldn't is what I said." "Wouldn't is what you mean." The doctor gestured at the fittings of his patient's office. "You mean to tell me you're so busy that you haven't time to walk two blocks to my office, do you? -- instead of having me call here to examine you?" Levinson silently indicated the welter of papers on his desk. "And that's what you're wedded to!" scoffed Kurtius. "Charts, summaries, statistics. Any clerk could tabulate them for you."
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Spring, 1946 SUN SPOTS Page 5 ************************************** GRAPH By Stanley G. Weinbaum "You're on the mend again," said Dr. Felix Kurtius, tossing his black case carelessly on the desk. "Let's see how permanent it is this time!" Isaac Levinson -- mail-order Levinson -- rolled down his sleeve and stared sardonically at the doctor. "Thanks," he growled. "I've heard that before." "You're feeling better, aren't you?" The merchandise king nodded reluctantly, staring about his elaborate office. "Sure," he said. "But for how long? And anyway why don't you do something? Is this the new medical practice -- to let a patient get well by himself? For that I don't need a doctor!" "I gave you my suggestions," retorted Kurtius. "Three and a half years ago -- when you first called me -- I told you what to do. Don't blame me because you refused to follow my advise." "Vacations!" sneered Levinson. "Rest -- changes -- travel -- retire! Could I leave my business with conditions like they were?" "You certainly could! What's a little more money to you -- or a little less?" "Money -- bah! It's my business that needs me." "Same thing." "No," said Levinson abruptly. "Not the same thing! My stockholders, my employees, I have obligations to them. The business must be run right, or the one loses money and the other jobs. Could I let some schlemiehl make a botch of things while I was telling how the biggest taroon got away from me? Oser!" "Just excuses," observed Kurtius. "What you mean is that you didn't want to leave." "Couldn't is what I said." "Wouldn't is what you mean." The doctor gestured at the fittings of his patient's office. "You mean to tell me you're so busy that you haven't time to walk two blocks to my office, do you? -- instead of having me call here to examine you?" Levinson silently indicated the welter of papers on his desk. "And that's what you're wedded to!" scoffed Kurtius. "Charts, summaries, statistics. Any clerk could tabulate them for you."
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