Judge, 1892-09-17 · page 6 of 16
Judge — September 17, 1892 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains multiple satirical vignettes typical of late 19th-century American humor: **"A Modern Libretto"** mocks the therapeutic practice of having asylum patients write daily. A visitor suggests turning their writings into a comic opera—satire on both psychiatry's trendy methods and the commercialization of human suffering. **"A Good Job"** shows a Black man (Slimms) who's been posing as a model for a "medicine artist"—likely advertising patent medicines. The joke plays on exploitation of poor laborers. **"A Prevalent Disorder"** jokes about a newspaper editor complaining that a young writer hired to write promotional "puffs" (advertisements) was too inexperienced—satirizing both puff journalism and editorial incompetence. **"You May"** is a sentimental fable about a proud gray cat wearing a blue ribbon, rejected by a white cat, who then dies watching the white cat with a black cat. The moral warns against social snobbery based on status symbols. The remaining sections use ethnic humor and class-based jokes typical of the era. Overall, the page satirizes contemporary institutions (asylums, medicine, journalism) and social pretension.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A MODERN LIBRETTO. Superintendent of asylum—"\ have a remarkable lot of stuff there.”* Visitor— Seems to be a collection of manuscripts.” Superintendent—" Yes; 1 require all the patients to write what is uppermost in their minds every day.” Visitor —Do you want to make some money out of it?” Superintendent—" Yes, if it can be done.” Visitor—"All right. I'l write the music to it and we'll put it on the road as a comic opera.” ay ones, A GOOD JoB. Gry WALLAC ay, Slimms, where did yer g as—'* Oh, big luck. I'se been posin’ fer a medicine artist as * before : — . GOOD CAUSE FOR COMPLAINT. A PREVALENT DISORDER. Epior (to man with complaint)—"* Well, what is the trouble?" ‘i ‘4 wae veaGell ji it MaNn—"‘About the young man you sent to write a puff for me. The paper SP OWNEY didn’t seem to get along very well in the editing of the. MAY TUADNE OS JOON Ea Fenton's goods will.ever use auy other magazine. What was the trouble? Eprror—" Well, what's the trouble with that?" “Thave heard it said that his gray matter was too green.” Max—" Trouble enough. I am an undertaker.” OU, WHAT A DIFFERENCE! THRIFT, THRIFT, HORATIO. Ss\VE LAID dher gorner-sdone ohf dher synagogue de odher day, Moses.” “Not us, Moses. Ve put in cheques insteadt ohf coins.” IT AFFECTED BOTH ALIK Miss Bleecker—* We have had such a long walk. 1 almost gave out.” Miss Emerson (of Boston)— I too approached the verge of making an external presentation.” —and afterwards at the concert. YOU MAY. HERE was once a little kitten with a coat so soft and gray, and a prouder little kitten I've not met in many a day. Nowa lady loved this kitten, and it was her whim to deck with a lovely azure rib- bon this little kitten’s neck. In the next-door neighbor's garden almost any sunny day you could see a snow-white kitten among the flowers play. Now the gray cat loved the white cat, but he said with con- scious pride, “ Until she too wears a ribbon she ne'er can be my bride; so upon the fence I'll perch me, that this kitten fair may see how my lovely azure ribbon makes me more select than she.” He climbed the fence so lightly—alas, how sad the tale !—for he fell, the azure ribbon catching fast upon a nail. ‘Then the heartless snow-white kitten called a lover black as night, and they sat and laughed together at the gray t's sorry plight. The gray cat hung there choking, and while cold death dimmed his sight he saw the black and white cats making love with all their might. There's a moral to this story, as you can plainly see, and the per son it applies to may be either you or me. Whene’er you think your neighbors are not good enough for you you may share the fate of pussy with his ribbon fine and blue; and while, dying, you are thinking how the world will miss your face you may see some poor piebeian NOT THAT KIND OF BOOK. = dl *Manpy—"* Say, Jacob, John's doin’ well. He’s in the book-bindin’ business.” who is filling well your place Jacon—"* Fer tiie land sakes! what do he say? JEANIE B, Lock Woon, "MAnpy—" Why, he says thet he’s been book-makin’ at Brighton all summer.” comicbooks.com