"Buck Byrd rides again," cracked Washington newshawks. Down the warpath, sure enough, padded Economizer Harry Byrd of Virginia, his apple cheeks stained winesap-red with indignation. He was still after the scalp of OCD; and he was hot on the trail. He had discovered that OCD had still stranger captives in its tepee than Dancer Mayris Chancy (resigned).

OCD, it seemed, had appointed 62 "coordinators" in its Physical Fitness Division—coordinators for such physically fitting sports as Ping-pong, Codeball,* archery, paddle tennis, marbles, canoeing, horseshoe pitching.

Acidly Senator Byrd remarked the fact that Chicago's Jack...

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