Judge, 1908-01-18 · page 6 of 16
Judge — January 18, 1908 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**"A Necessary Qualification Lacking"** satirizes corporate hypocrisy about workplace violence. A job applicant lists ideal qualifications—penmanship, punctuality, typing—but the employer dismisses him upon learning he won't fight. The boss admits he wants a boy who can "thrash" a competitor's office boy in a physical scrap, revealing that corporate culture valued street-fighting ability alongside clerical skills. The satire mocks employers who publicly demand professionalism while privately rewarding pugilism. **"Trimmed by a Tune"** jokes about a bad operetta that succeeded only because audiences rioted and the show had to keep running to avoid being shut down mid-performance—an ironic "success." The remaining items are brief humor snippets about Southern Bourbon drinkers, a wife's excessive pet-like affection, and a musical fantasy where a hunter defeats a bear by loading his gun with bass notes, killing it through sheer musical discord.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A NECESSARY QUALIFICATION LACKING. a O YOU have called in answer to my adver- \/ tisement for an office-boy, eh ?” asked the ( head of the firm. z9 4 «Yes, sir,” replied the youth. You will find me a neat penman, sir.” « That's what we wa ad * And good at figures.” * And always on time.” “And always willing to work.” “Yes.” “And a rapid messenger, as 1 know around the city.” my wa) And I'm pretty fair at typewriti in case your stenographer gets sick.” : you handy with your «Splendid, my boy—splendid ! fists in a fight? in a fight, sir?” “Yes, Can you put it all over a boy your size if necessary 2" “1D never fight, sir.” + But you look like a chap who could give a ood account of him- self ina scrimmage, [don’t want you to yo around looking for trou- ble, you understand; but if it comes along, can you take care ol yourself?” * “I’s—it's wicked to fight, sir.” “Hum! Well, we need talk no further, E guess,” said the head You see, Smith, down of the firm with a sigh of disappointment the hall, is continually bragging about the fighting qualities of his red-headed office and Tin going to get one this time who can thrash that lado bright young fellow, Sure you weren't fooling of his boots, Sorry, son, as you seem to be a #Veyes, sir.” + Well, it’s too bad ; but Lean’t have that old pudding-head blow- all the time about the scrapper he has. Take look at his boy as you go out, and if you think you can best him ina scrap come back and the job is yours.” Lut the youth never returned AL unser TRIMMED BY A TUNE ae, FROM THE CONFESSIONS OF A LIERETTIST. | wrote an operetta once—a tuneful Spanish one And all my friends predicted it would have a lengthy run And they were right, The audience rose up in such a rage ‘The operetta had to run, or die there on the stage LT haven't seen it sin ht, this operatic pet: But if it has a bit of sense I guess it’s running yet. BOURBON BREATH. Georgia citizen—“Cunnel Bluecork says when the south went tdry’ it took his breath away." Al priding, himself on that breath for the past twenty years.” POOR FELLOW! He“ Did you know Brown's wife was treating: him like a dog ?” She “Why, no. What does she do?” He —» She does nothing but pet him all the time.” wma citizen —" Wt did, suh; and Cunnel Bluecork had been A MUSICAL FANTASY. / 1. Old Silas Scrub was hunting, and had shot off all his slugs, When a bear came rushing at him, a bunch of claws and hugs. 3. A lucky thought. He grabs a bunch of bass-notes, hard and round, And drops ‘om in his blunderbuss and rams ‘em good and sound. 2. And Silas said, ** It don’t look like my time on earth wuz long. Might jest ez well die happy.”” So he burst out into song. 4. Bang! Bruin drope, his thinker full of bullet-notes. He's stain! The thing that reafly killed him, friends, was rag-tinre on the brain, comicbooks.com